Gauss stepped out of the inn, full and satisfied.
Once again, he confirmed it: the terrible taste of the previous meals really hadn’t been Sophia’s fault.
I mean, seriously—how do you make cheap black bread taste good when you’re working without proper ingredients or seasoning?
Probably only possible with some kind of spell that literally makes food delicious.
…Wait, is that kind of magic even a thing in this world?
Even though others were already calling him a “mage apprentice,” Gauss was still pretty new to all this. He honestly had no clue.
The afternoon heat rolled through the streets of the small town like a dry wave.
Gauss walked close to the sides of the road, carefully avoiding the cargo wagons and mule carts clattering down the main path.
“Widow’s Alley… should be that way, right?”
Despite living in this town for over a year now, there were still plenty of places he hadn’t explored—including this so-called alley. He’d only heard the name in passing.
Following directions and asking locals along the way, he finally found himself standing before a quiet, narrow alleyway.
He stepped across the stone path and over a gently flowing stream running along the street’s edge.
The alley was lined with tight rows of buildings, home to all sorts of odd residents—artists, herbalists, independent craftsmen.
There were dingy little taverns and a few places that clearly catered to… adult clientele.
Women in heavy makeup and revealing clothes stood by doorways, waving at potential customers with soft, pale arms.
Gauss glanced over with curiosity—then quickly averted his eyes when one of them looked his way. He picked up the pace.
He had business today. Serious business.
“Thorn Cottage… Thorn Cottage…”
Right near the end of the alley, he finally spotted it: a shabby little house with moss creeping up its grey-stained walls.
He’d actually passed it earlier without noticing.
Only something about it had felt… off.
So he’d doubled back.
Sure enough, nailed to the outer wall was a weathered wooden sign: Thorn Cottage.
“Is this really the place?”
The brass-belled oak door was thick with dust. It looked abandoned.
He hesitated for a second, then knocked.
His knuckles rapped against the wood with a sharp, clear sound.
He waited, then knocked again.
Don’t tell me it’s been shut down?
Honestly, Gauss wouldn’t be surprised.
Gron hadn’t left the forge much when he worked there—any info from him could be outdated.
He was just about to give up when—
The door groaned open slowly, its rusty hinges screeching like an injured animal.
Gauss blinked, peering into the dark hallway beyond.
That’s when a sharp, clear female voice spoke—from below.
Startled, Gauss looked down… and realized there’d been someone standing there the whole time.
She was just that short.
If he hadn’t glanced down, he wouldn’t have seen her at all.
She looked like a woman in her early twenties—reddish skin, sleek black hair.
Eighty centimeters, tops.
Shorter than a goblin, even.
Honestly, Gauss was worried someone might trip over her head on a crowded street.
A halfling? Or a gnome?
He’d seen a few other non-human races before, but never this close.
Halflings and gnomes were both small-bodied races, but halflings were more like “miniature humans,” with proportional features, agile builds, and smooth movements.
About 90 centimeters tall, 30–35 pounds. Reddish complexion. Straight black hair.
Yup—everything lined up. Definitely a halfling.
“Kid, I get the feeling you’re thinking something rude.”
“So? Who are you, and who sent you?”
Apparently, she didn’t expect random strangers to show up here.
“I’m Gauss,” he replied quickly. “I was sent by Gron—the forge master from Black Anvil Forge. Full name: Gron Bates.”
The halfling raised an eyebrow.
“Gron, huh?” she muttered. “Alright, come in.”
She stepped aside—not that it really made a difference.
Gauss passed through the doorway and into the building.
Despite the dusty, rundown exterior, the inside was shockingly impressive.
Dozens of brass chandeliers glowed from the arched ceiling.
The walls were lined with wooden shelves in a honeycomb pattern.
Every slot was packed with bizarre objects: monster parts, dried herbs, books, statues, strange-looking eggs…
It was a lot. Gauss spun around, wide-eyed.
And then—he saw them.
A neat row of elongated, wand-shaped objects hanging near the wall.
They came in all lengths. The shortest was about the size of a forearm, like the one Daphne used.
But the longest one? It looked huge. Nearly Gauss’s own height—more like a heavy staff than a wand.
It was a deep mahogany color, covered in scaly-looking cracks.
The handle was wrapped in cloth, and at the top sat a glowing, emerald-colored gem the size of a goose egg.
Probably weighed a ton.
Definitely not something a fragile mage could wave around easily.
Shame… they all look like something I can’t afford.
From the intricate carvings to the embedded gems, it was clear—these weren’t cheap.
He reluctantly tore his gaze away.
The halfling woman had already climbed onto a vine-woven lounge chair and laid back, completely ignoring him.
“Name’s Andeni. I’m the shopkeeper.”
“So… how do you know Gron?” she asked, flipping onto her side to look at him.
Gauss explained his short stint working at the forge.
Andeni raised an eyebrow.
“You were just a temp? Only worked there for a few days?”
“I just didn’t think that old bastard had it in him. He used to be a real piece of work—definitely not the helpful, friendly type,” she said, eyes glittering. “Back then? He was the kind of guy who’d kill you without blinking.”
He didn’t say anything.
Whatever Gron used to be didn’t matter—he’d been kind to him, and that was enough.
Andeni noticed the silence and smirked.
“You close with Gron?”
“Not really. But he was decent to me.”
“Hmph. We used to be tight. Part of the same adventuring party, ages ago. Haven’t seen him in years.”
She sighed dramatically, though her face stayed expressionless.
“Same town, and he still ghosts me. Typical.”
Then she glanced over again.
“Still… first time he’s ever sent someone to me. That’s new.”