"Then look around yourself. I've got my own work to get back to."
Duncan's honest answer left Gill disappointed, but he didn't shoo him away. Adventurers were, after all, the people who kept him fed—who knew when Duncan might become a customer? Still, business was busy, and Gill didn't have time to waste hovering over Duncan.
"Okay~" Duncan answered.
He didn't mind Gill leaving. Duncan hadn't come intending to "support the shop" anyway, and he'd feel bad taking up someone's time for nothing.
Even though this was a low-tier Familia, it wasn't Orario—where every inch of land cost a fortune—so the shop's floor space was still fairly large. Between a forging god's craft as the foundation and a steady flow of adventurer customers, even a weak Familia could live very comfortably in a place like this.
The display racks held all manner of weapons and gear—each piece a blacksmith's pride. The most expensive item was a massive battle axe. Maybe it was because the materials were lavish and forging something that huge took time and labor, but the price was in the ten-million range—so far above everything else it stood out like a "shop treasure."
Other weapons ranged from a few million down to tens of thousands. Armor was equally complete—full plate sets, shields, all types—but strangely, it was cheaper than weapons, even though armor obviously used far more material.
In this world, adventurers valued offense far more than defense. Gill's explanation was blunt: for upper-tier adventurers, their bodies could sometimes be tougher than armor. Wearing armor could just add weight and slow them down.
It wasn't that high-defense armor didn't exist—just that both the price and the crafting difficulty were on an entirely different level. Materials alone were enough to make many upper-tier adventurers stop in their tracks.
And full-body armor was mostly for heavy frontliners. Duncan had seen Chaldo's equipment: from helmet to boots, it was made of ultra-hard metal and other rare alloys. The weight alone could crush a Level 1 adventurer and make a Level 2 move awkwardly.
Not to mention the price: hundreds of millions of valis.
Outside of a towering wall like Chaldo, most adventurers wouldn't even consider it. Sure, there were outfits like Alfia's—balancing convenience with some protection—but those were expensive too, and their physical defense couldn't compare to real plate armor.
Inside the shop, there were stacks of weapons and armor sold cheaper than the rack items—most in the "a few thousand to just over ten thousand" range. Even a full set of armor might only be a bit over ten thousand. Compared to the display pieces, it was practically a tearful clearance sale.
Those were mostly products made by newly joined smiths in the Familia—less famous, less skilled—so their work got sold here. And the buyers were usually Level 1 adventurers, so the price couldn't be too high.
Duncan headed straight for the spear section without hesitation. As one of the most commonly used adventurer weapons, spears came in plenty of styles and quantities. Even though he'd looked through them several times before, a weapon that kept you alive was never something you got tired of examining.
Most of the truly expensive pieces were locked behind glass. The ones outside were general stock. Some were comparable in overall build to the white spear Duncan had used—yet the spearhead material was clearly inferior.
Just as Duncan was testing the balance of one spear after another, the shop bell rang again. A wave of people filed in, and the previously quiet store instantly became crowded.
"Welcome! Anything I can help you with?"
Gill snapped into sales mode immediately, throwing on a big merchant smile.
"We need to restock some backup weapons," a red-haired woman at the front said after assessing the shop's size and the display. "And some maintenance."
"No problem! This is the best weapon shop in town—services of every kind. Please, take your time and browse!"
Hearing "business," Gill lit up and started enthusiastically introducing their products.
It looked like a Familia that had just returned from an expedition. The dust-covered faces, the bulging packs—everything about them screamed "just got back."
Duncan glanced once and then looked away. In a town packed with adventurers, it wasn't a rare scene. Still, judging by sheer numbers, their Familia seemed pretty capable.
By rough count, there were around twenty adventurers. In Orario that might not be impressive, but for an outside-the-city gathering-focused Familia, that was a solid force. Especially since the red-haired woman up front was clearly an upper-tier adventurer—probably the captain. Whether she was Level 2 or Level 3, Duncan couldn't tell.
The red-haired captain didn't care that Duncan—a child—was selecting weapons. She'd seen young adventurers plenty of times. That kind of thing stopped being surprising a long time ago.
"Captain, I'll take Lanty and go sell the magic stones and materials first."
Sure enough, a woman who looked like a supporter—lugging an enormous pack—made the suggestion.
"Oh, good," the red-haired captain replied. "Take Lia with you too. No point letting those shady merchants cheat you."
"Leave it to me. I'll bring back a price you'll be happy with," the black-haired woman said brightly.
Watching the three walk out, one teammate grinned with open schadenfreude. "I almost feel sorry for the merchant who has to negotiate with Lia."
"That face says you don't," the captain shot back. "And they're all old hands. No way they'll get talked into anything. At most, you squeeze out a bit more money."
Then she paced along the cases, admiring the weapons.
Even after the three left, the remaining dozen-plus made the shop noisy. Their Familia's god apparently didn't like men—or maybe wanted to build a harem—because from captain to supporter, they were all women.
Gill didn't care. As long as he sold weapons, he'd welcome even a monster through the door.
That, he claimed, was a merchant's dignity.
Time passed. After finishing his look, Duncan gave Gill a quick farewell and was about to leave—
When the shop door opened again.
A blue-haired woman walked in.
Her waist-length hair was braided and tied back, with loose strands at her temples swaying with the breeze. On her head sat a laurel circlet crafted from mithril. Her clear emerald eyes were deep and gentle.
A one-handed sword hung at her left waist; a dagger rode at the back of her right hip. Her shoulders and upper back were bare, her top held in place by a purple ribbon at her neck, showing healthy, wheat-white skin. The outfit was undeniably revealing, yet unlike the rough, aggressive feeling of Amazons, she carried something pure—almost sacred.
Gold guards protected her wrists and arms. A white silk skirt-panel draped to the right, partly covering her long right leg. Her boots had a hint of Greek style. The whole look—clean, practical, elegant—made it hard not to be drawn to her the moment you saw her.
....
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