WeTried Translations
Translator: [IncomeElastic]
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◈ I Became a Blacksmith the Rankers Are Obsessed With ◈
Chapter 050
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You Mean It's Armor?!
* * *
Wait, why bring that out?!
Looking at it again, it's mortifying. I have eyes now, and I can see exactly how lacking my past self really was.
Kind of like rereading a paper I'd edited a year ago.
Every sentence I passed made the amateurishness hit fresh all over again.
On top of that, there was a sheet of paper lying beneath the gear.
I'd seen one like that before, at the Imperial Palace.
That's an appraisal certificate.
Since he's a Sun Dwarf, a Sage Artisan among Heirs of Flame, of course the appraisal would be top-tier too.
"These are the marks of your trail. You've made an awful lot in such a short time."
But the dwarf before me murmured that, then swept his gaze slowly over them with a solemn expression.
- Tap.
He gave the grease-slicked glove a light tap, then,
"... About as ideal a first step as one could hope for."
He let out a short laugh and read the appraisal certificate lying beneath it.
I hurried over to it, flustered.
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【You can't fill your stomach with the first spoonful.】
『Toss it, toss it. No wait. Give it to Eric. Eric.』
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"True enough, you can't fill your stomach with the first spoonful. I don't know who this Eric is, but pass along my congratulations, it's rare to see something ruined this honestly."
"......."
The ancestor's verdict came down scathing.
Sorry, Eric. I'll see you again someday.
I'd always carried a nagging sense of guilt about it.
Next up, the Apprentice Blacksmith's Warming Gloves.
"Warming gloves are about as fitting a place to start as any. To think you made something like this after just one failure. Impressive."
He skimmed the appraisal certificate beneath the gloves and let out a short laugh.
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『Because I made it with care, thinking of Dolores…』
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"Thinking of Dolores, hm... A lover, perhaps?"
He asked while looking straight at me, but I fidgeted and looked away.
"......."
She's not my lover, though.
She's my Maman.
"Well, it's not a size a thirteen-year-old could fit into, so I suppose 'lover' doesn't quite fit after all. Whoever she is, she must have been delighted."
He gave a faint smile and hurried toward the next piece of gear.
It didn't quite suit his somewhat rough-hewn appearance, but he did seem genuinely excited.
No Sun Dwarf had woken him in ninety-one years, so I supposed he'd been itching for this for a long while.
Next was the Apprentice Blacksmith's Warming Footwraps.
It was born out of an attempt to make stockings for Dolores.
"... The idea was good. The skill behind it, too."
"......."
"But the material choice wasn't up to par, so it must have turned out stiff and heavy."
He said that, then looked at the appraisal certificate.
- Flinch.
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『If the shoes turned out like this, how am I supposed to make underwear?』
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Oh, fuck.
"U-underwear?"
"Ha ha...."
"W-well, that's not really a blacksmith's domain, I suppose. But your foresight is exceptional."
Anyone could tell that praise had been squeezed out under duress.
Soon enough, before long, the next piece of gear appeared.
It was Spring Without Frost.
My masterpiece, my most ambitious work.
"Huh...?"
The dwarf glanced at it and his eyes went wide.
Then he looked back at the footwraps he'd just seen, and turned his gaze again to Spring Without Frost.
The footwraps.
Spring Without Frost.
The footwraps again.
"T-this came right after just one failure?"
He reached out without thinking, and,
Wait.
I instinctively blocked him.
"I'm sorry, but this is something a woman wears."
Dolores's, to be precise.
A copy, sure, but I wasn't thrilled about someone else touching it.
"... I, I understand. I wasn't planning to wear it."
When I blocked his hand with a face that allowed absolutely no compromise,
he looked a little flustered, and without touching it, brought his eyes right up close to the stocking instead.
"Where on earth did this fabric come from? Does a material like this even exist in this world? It's not Heir-of-Flame craftsmanship...."
"... Ahem."
Well, see, the thing is.
"It's...."
I explained it to him slowly.
Heir-of-Flame craftsmanship was a bit "old-school."
And as it happened, I had Elf knowledge sitting right beside me. Literally right beside me.
So I'd borrowed their Thermal Shock Delamination method and spun the fabric out of that.
"It's a kind of... well, a collaboration, I guess."
"......."
Lionel's Illegal Collab. Something like that.
Hearing that, his eyes slowly widened.
"... Huh."
- Flop.
He sank straight down into the chair in front of the sorting table.
"Are you all right?"
"......."
The Sage Artisan gave no answer.
Not smiling, not angry either.
With an expression I couldn't put a name to, he just stared down at Spring Without Frost in silence.
"... Four hundred and twenty years ago."
"Excuse me?"
"There was a war between floors, between the Elves and the Sun Dwarves."
An impromptu history lecture on the Tower, out of nowhere.
"On paper, it was to seize each other's techniques."
He looked down at his own hand.
"Each side coveted the other's hands and crossed floors for them."
"......."
"For years, many died, many craftsmen died, and many hands were severed besides. And do you know what came of it?"
"... I don't know."
"Nothing. Neither they nor we managed to bring back so much as a handful of the other's knowledge."
He raised his head.
"And yet."
"......."
"You brought it back without spilling a drop of blood."
- Whoosh....
The forge, which had been quietly burning, flared shallowly for a moment.
"... It's not that I still hold any ill will toward the Elves, not at this point...."
"......."
"It's just a shame my people had declined so far by the time their technique finally found its way to us."
Having said that, he rose to his feet and looked at the appraisal certificate lying beneath Spring Without Frost.
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『Do not doubt the path you walk, but don't grow drunk on the path you've already walked, either.
- That, is the first pride of one who deals in fire.』
- To Certified Blacksmith L, a tribute sent by the sun -
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"Ha... my word, in all my years-"
He stood there like that for a long while, then,
"This is also the first time I've seen the sun send a tribute to a mere Certified Blacksmith."
His hand started to reach for the paper, then he shook his head.
"Even I didn't receive one of these until I reached Elite."
Elite?
Probably the rank above Certified Blacksmith, I guessed.
So there was something above that after all.
"Overall assessment: aesthetics, material, performance, all of it excellent."
- Tap, tap.
He tapped the stars on the appraisal certificate.
"If there's anything hard to believe here, it's this two-star rating."
Then he moved on to the next piece of gear.
The next piece was....
The long-awaited last one.
- Hum....
It was the Cradle of the Earth.
I supposed the Divine Bell, since it received messages straight from the gods rather than counting as "equipment," hadn't been placed on the sorting table.
He looked at the earrings glowing faintly green, then,
"... A divine implement?"
he murmured quietly.
The dwarf immediately looked at the appraisal certificate.
[Divine Implement (神具)] [Target God: Gaia]
- Flinch.
"Gaia...? W-wait, what about Ignia? What happened, that your first divine implement went to Gaia over her...."
He put a hand to his forehead, seeming to mull something over.
"... Since you used Elf techniques too, choosing Gaia isn't incomprehensible. But as an Heir of Flame, you'd naturally be expected to give it to Ignia...."
"It's all right, really."
I gripped his hand tightly.
I knew exactly what he was worried about.
Honestly, I'd only found out about it myself afterward.
That as a Sun Dwarf Heir of Flame, I was supposed to make Ignia's divine implement first.
But what could I do about it now? The water was already spilled.
I'd just make her something great later and apologize for it.
"Besides, I'm the only one who can make divine implements anyway."
If she's angry, there's not much to be done about it.
If she wants a divine implement, she'll find a way to swallow her anger.
This is the downside of a monopoly. If it bothers you, go make one yourself.
He studied me carefully for a moment, then,
"... They say even the gods stopped visiting here long ago. Whoever you choose, I suppose there's not much room to complain now."
he said, wearing a bitter expression, and turned his eyes back to the earrings.
- Slide.
This time, he didn't reach out.
These weren't Dolores's earrings but the Princess's, so it would've been fine to touch them.
Still, without picking them up, he tilted his head instead, shifting the angle the light hit them from.
"Even I feel cautious giving this a detailed assessment."
"Excuse me?"
"There's peak-tier gem craftsmanship woven into it."
Elf gem-cutting and Sun Dwarf metallurgy, blended together.
"Honestly, neither technique is fully matured here."
A slightly painful verdict.
Though he wasn't wrong.
"But."
He added slowly.
"Simply trying to merge the two into one is something nobody managed in the last thousand years. That alone is enough."
"......."
"In other words, this is an excellent divine implement no one else in the world could have made. And the aesthetic side of it... is this simply natural talent? Gaia must have been delighted."
She really had loved it, enough to send a whole long letter of praise.
He finally looked away from the Cradle of the Earth.
With every piece of gear now assessed,
he slowly walked toward the end of the sorting table.
- Footsteps.
On the sorting table, my trail laid out in a row,
starting from the greasy gloves, through the warming gloves, the footwraps, Spring Without Frost, all the way to the Cradle of the Earth.
And at the very end,
"... Heir."
there was one empty space left, with nothing on it.
He set his hand on it.
"How does it feel, facing your own trail like this?"
"......."
Honestly, at first it was mortifying.
Half of it felt like a fresh wave of nostalgia,
and the other half... made me think I'd done better than I'd given myself credit for.
"It wasn't bad."
"......."
He nodded.
"Good."
A smile spread beneath his beard.
"That's enough, then."
He slowly pressed down harder with the hand resting on the empty spot.
"It's about time, now."
"Time for what?"
"Heir."
Flames began slowly rippling behind the dwarf's back.
"I declare this in the name of Hareungar, the 11th-Generation Sage Artisan."
The 11th-Generation Sage Artisan, Hareungar.
That was the name of the ancestor standing before me.
"Ask me anything."
"......."
- Thud....
A sound of fire roaring up rang out from the crucible furnace and the forge at once.
"What is the next piece of gear you intend to make?"
Hearing that,
I couldn't help but agonize over it inside.
This was bad.
"A sword? A shield? Or perhaps, a hammer?"
He bared his teeth in a broad, beaming grin.
Wow. This was really, genuinely bad.
Because the piece of gear I actually wanted to make next was....
Something that would fit Dolores's body with zero margin of error,
aesthetically flawless, something I'd want to see her wearing every single day,
breathable enough not to trap sweat, with excellent magical performance besides.
That kind of thing.
"If not those, then, Heir! You mean it's armor?!"
"......."
Because it was underwear.
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