Quest for trash

Despite being quite bothered by the blood of the mole-rabbits and his own sweat, Viria ended up not going for the freely available bathhouse to clean up.

The free one was completely packed full at that hour and without the private room like in the bathland of respite, Viria was too nervous about making a blunder and revealing that he was in possession of multiple monster cores – including the one from the rare spawn.

Thankfully the place he was going to did not have a dress code, although Viria would surely lose a lot of bills just to make everything look natural.

"...you don't look so good, inmate..."

The guard straight from the uncanny valley greeted Viria in such way once the young man approached the run-down smithy where the fallen blacksmith was drowning himself in alcohol each day.

"I've done some hunting, and the bathhouse is full. Is it okay for me to come in?"

Viria smiled apologetically spreading his arms in a powerless gesture and asked innocently.

"Go on. Unless you killed someone there's no reason for me to stop you."

The guard shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand dismissively at the young man who didn't say another word and walked towards the door.

"He might have been the best blacksmith in the past, but now he is a drunkard and nothing more. You will waste your money and your time."

"..."

Even though it looked like the skinny guard was done dealing with the young man, the moment that Viria's hand touched the door handle, he spoke up, looking him in the eyes.

Things were going just as the young man hoped for – it was clear that the guard was convinced that he was going to become a student of the fallen blacksmith Hoivra because of his fame and not because of some ulterior motives.

"I am grateful for the head's up, but I still want to try anyway."

Viria gulped down his saliva and said while lowering his head apologetically, not exactly sure how to react to the advice that really did sound completely honest and spoken in good faith.

"Your loss, inmate."

The guard sighed, shaking his head in disbelief, and looked away as if in disappointment.

This time Viria was prepared and when the hot air reeking of booze and sweat hit him in the face he did not flinch and just walked inside the smithy.

"Come tomorrow...! I don't take any orders today!"

"...!"

*SMASH*

The completely drunken man that Viria mistook for a pile of dingy mole-rabbit skin grumbled and threw an empty bottle of alcohol right at the unexpected young man. The thing is, instead of dodging it, Viria's instinct kicked in and he punched it away instead, breaking the glass and sending the sharp shards all across the room.

"Wh-what the hell did you do that for?!"

The blacksmith who sobered up a bit because of the shocking turn of events stood up on his shaky legs and asked while more than just slightly annoyed Vria was pulling out the sharp glass piece from his fist.

"I should be the one asking that, Hoivra. You told me to show up today so that you could start teaching me how to become a blacksmith and this is the welcome I get?! Do you even want the bills or not?!"

The young man wasn't faking it, he really was extremely annoyed – thankfully the wound that got inflicted on his hand after he punched the bottle away wasn't all that serious, but it was infuriating nonetheless to actually get hurt so soon after leaving the clinic.

"Huh...? What the hell do you mean, me teaching you? Who said that?"

Hoivra shook his head and squinted his eyes, staring at Viria in disbelief.

"A yellow bill for you accepting a student – a green bill for each day of training, and a blue bill for every material that I will inevitably turn into the trash, and which I would have to deal with afterward. Your words. Here are the bills, or as you called them, tickets."

Viria declared, pulling out one yellow bill, one green bill, and one blue bill preemptively as he spoke, and reached them out toward the flabbergasted wide-eyed blacksmith.

"I am happy to start with making tin tools or tanning the monster skin – if you do such thing yourself."

The young man declared, holding up the three bills right in front of Hoivra's face.

"Tsk! A moron who thinks he can buy my teachings!"

The blacksmith clicked his tongue and scoffed – but he did indeed took the bills out of Viria's hand and got up, walking towards the shelves behind the foundry.

"Here are the tools and some tin ore – smelt it into an ingot and we will talk."

Hoivra scoffed, throwing some items at Viria's feet and scoffing dismissively.

"You are not going to show me how to do it first?"

The young man asked without even trying to pick them up.

"Don't you know who I am, brat? As the best blacksmith in the -GBUGHEEEELGH – Spirit Empire I refuse to teach anyone without the talent!"

Hoivra scoffed proudly in response – who knows if he didn't pull out a dusty bottle literal trashcan with scraps of rotting mole-rabbit skin stuck to it, downed whatever liquid was inside a second before the speech and belched disgustingly in the middle of it, it might have the effect that he was aiming for.

…

*SMASH*

After not much time managed to pass, the young man left the blacksmith the sound of a bottle smashing against the wall.

"YOU MUST BE KIDDING ME! FORGET ABOUT BEING ANYONE'S DISCIPLE, THE ONLY THING YOU HAVE TALENT FOR IS MAKING TRASH OUT OF PERFECTLY GOOD INGREDIENTS!"

After checking on Viria's progress, the fallen blacksmith got so angry at seeing the young man's attempt at smelting tin that he sobered up completely and was shouting at the top of his lungs.

"I will take care of the trash, wasn't that a part of the deal?"

Viria stopped on the street and looked back over his shoulder with a bitter expression.