In this world where conflict was ever-present, setting out on an adventure without proper equipment was simply out of the question.
At the blacksmith's forge, a burly man was hammering away at a strip of iron with loud, rhythmic clangs. Garrett stood nearby watching for quite some time. Only when the hammering stopped and the smith paused to wipe his brow did he step forward and greet him:
"Hello."
"Good day to you. What can I do for you, stranger?"
"Do you sell weapons here? Or perhaps armor?"
The blacksmith looked up and studied Garrett carefully.
"And you would be?"
"A traveling adventurer."
"So you're not from Bree, then?"
Garrett nodded.
"Then no, I don't. You'd best move along." The smith turned back to his work.
Garrett quickly added, "Wait, I can pay, name your price."
The blacksmith turned back with a weary expression and said firmly, "Doesn't matter what coin you offer. Arms and armor from Bree are only sold to folk of Bree. And even then, not to just anyone. If you're truly set on arming yourself, I suggest trying the farmers' market. Perhaps someone there will sell you a pitchfork."
Garrett stood there for a moment, then understanding dawned on him. Of course, this wasn't some game world where you could walk into any shop and buy a full set of gear. In this age, weapons and armor were considered valuable resources, carefully controlled. There was no way they would be sold casually. Especially not to some self-proclaimed adventurer of unknown origins.
"Then perhaps you could sell me a bit of iron? Just a bit, for... research purposes."
The blacksmith hesitated for a moment and asked, "How much would you need?"
Garrett gestured with his hands to indicate the size.
"Absolutely not." The smith shook his head firmly.
Garrett's expression fell.
If he had access to metal ore, he could actually craft gear himself using his abilities. But ore wasn't something you could just dig up anywhere in the real world. In games, sure, you dig a hole straight down and eventually strike something. If you're lucky, you might even find a cave system and hit the motherlode.
But reality wasn't nearly so generous.
"Excuse me, friend, I couldn't help but overhear. You're looking to purchase that sort of thing?"
Both Garrett and the blacksmith turned to look. A scruffy man with a weathered face and unkempt hair had suddenly emerged from the shadows, grinning at Garrett. Clearly, he'd been lurking there for some time.
"And you are?"
"Get out of here, you mangy peddler! Stay away from my forge!"
Before Garrett could finish his question, the blacksmith slammed his hammer down and barked out a dismissal.
But even after being called a mangy peddler, the man didn't take offense. He just chuckled and said, "Easy there. I was just passing by and happened to overhear someone you can't help, but perhaps I can..."
The blacksmith cut him off, "Don't try your smooth talk here. I'm warning you, mind the laws of Bree."
"Of course, of course! My friend, I always respect local customs," the man said smoothly.
"You have three seconds to get out of my sight," the blacksmith said coldly.
"Three..."
"Two..."
The smith hefted his hammer and rose to his feet.
"Alright, alright, I'm going! No need to get your bellows in a twist!"
The man quickly backed away several steps, glancing at Garrett repeatedly.
Garrett looked between the man and the blacksmith, then chose to follow the stranger.
The blacksmith watched him go, then finally called out from a distance,"I'd advise caution."
Garrett nodded acknowledgment from afar.
It wasn't until they reached a quieter area that he finally spoke, "What should I call you?"
"I'm a trader in... salvaged goods. Just call me Bill, sir."
Salvaged goods?
Now that was an interesting way to put it.
"What exactly do you do?"
Bill shrugged. "Well, according to the respectable merchants, we're nothing but bothersome scavengers stealing their business, buying and selling anything and everything, turning up wherever there's coin to be made."
We?
Before Garrett could dwell on that, Bill continued, "I won't deny I deal in salvage, but who's to say? Perhaps what you need is hidden among my wares."
"You know what I'm looking for?"
"Naturally. Arms and armor for protection, am I right?"
Garrett nodded.
"Follow me then, sir." Bill said confidently, leading Garrett toward a more secluded part of town.
Garrett was somewhat skeptical, but that kind of confidence was hard to fake, so he followed. Bree wasn't a large settlement, it was a hodgepodge of all sorts of folk. Maybe, just maybe, this fellow really did have something worthwhile.
After a short walk, Bill led him to a forgotten corner of the town.
Unlike the bustling main streets, this area had a gloomy, neglected atmosphere. The walls and eaves on both sides of the narrow lane were draped with cobwebs and creeping vines, clearly long abandoned to decay. Still, the buildings showed signs of habitation, someone definitely lived here.
Creak.
A door to one of the houses opened slightly. A rough-looking man with several days' stubble peered out. He glanced at Bill, then fixed his eyes on Garrett, watching intently until they reached the end of the street before withdrawing his gaze.
Click.
The door shut firmly.
---
"These are the weapons and armor you were talking about?" Garrett frowned deeply, glaring at Bill. "Do I look like someone you can mess with? Or someone easily fooled?"
He gestured at the pile of rusted, corroded weapons and armor scattered around the yard, clearly irritated. "This is what you brought me to see?"
Traveling merchant... not a local... Wonder if killing him would lower my reputation?
Sensing the sudden chill in the air, Bill quickly explained, "Please, Master Adventurer, I'm an honest trader who follows all regulations! Whether in Bree or any other realm, arms and armor are strictly controlled! Trading them privately is serious business! Just acquiring this merchandise took considerable effort. And I can assure you, I'm the only one in this entire region who can provide such goods. You won't find anything like this elsewhere."
As he spoke, he picked up a deteriorating longsword and brandished it before Garrett. "Look at this blade. Yes, it has some... character, but it's still serviceable for defense. And anyone who gets cut by this? Well, let's just say infection sets in quickly!"
Character?
Garrett took the corroded longsword, and the moment he grasped it, its properties appeared:
[Corroded Longsword: Attack Power +1]
"..."
He tried to swing it experimentally, and a chunk immediately flaked off.
He instantly understood the quality of this "weapon." If he actually tried to strike someone with it, the sword would probably shatter before inflicting any damage. Even picking up a sturdy branch would be more reliable than this.
He surveyed the yard. From what he could see, everything here was roughly the same quality of refuse. No wonder the authorities in Bree turned a blind eye to this place.
Was there even any point in regulating this junk?
Tch.
With a sound of disgust, he moved to toss the worthless blade aside. But at that moment, a system notification suddenly appeared and stopped him cold.
[New Crafting Recipe Unlocked]
[Salvage Smelting (Advanced)]
[Note: Improved material recovery rate.]
[Input: Corroded Longsword]
[Estimated Output: 50%–80% raw materials]
?!
Suddenly, this piece of refuse in his hand didn't seem quite so worthless after all.