The setting sun shone through the simple wooden window of the Iron Smithy, filling the air with the scorching scent of metal after it had been forged.
Helos pushed open the creaking wooden door with anticipation, her steps light and brisk, her very heartbeat dancing with excitement.
“Welcome!”
A crisp voice rang out from behind the counter.
Helos looked up to see a human girl with chestnut ponytail standing cheerfully behind the counter, her face beaming with a bright and enthusiastic smile.
She didn’t look that old—probably fourteen or fifteen—dressed in a simple apron, radiating a warmth and friendliness that was impossible to ignore.
“How can I help you, miss?”
The girl’s voice was light and cheerful, carrying a strangely comforting sense of familiarity.
“Ah, I…”
Helos hesitated, careful not to get too close, wary of accidentally hurting her.
She lifted her cloak’s hood slightly, cautiously voicing her purpose for coming.
Lowering her voice, she spoke slowly, as if afraid her request would sound too absurd:
“I have a damaged doll-type Golem. Its shell and joints are badly broken and need replacement and reforging. Ideally, the new parts would be custom-made to fit its rather unique internal structure.”
As she finished, Helos unconsciously gripped the hem of her cloak tighter with her fingertips.
She had already heard too many refusals along the way, each one sowing seeds of unease in her heart.
At this moment, she could almost picture the girl behind the counter showing a troubled expression, or, just like at the previous shops, directly turning her away.
But to her surprise, things unfolded differently.
The girl was briefly stunned, but then her smile faded a little, replaced by an unusual seriousness.
She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes locking intently on Helos.
“Golem parts? Are you serious?”
Helos felt her heart clench for an instant, but she nodded without hesitation.
“Yes.”
“Then, allow me to ask you a few questions.”
Rather than refuse her outright, the girl bent down to fetch paper and pen, taking notes with practiced ease as she questioned Helos, just like an experienced apprentice:
“Golem’s size? Rough height? Which parts are damaged? How stable is the magic circle? Is the internal support structure compromised?”
Her questions fell one after another like raindrops, each point precise, leaving no room for vague answers—it was clear she was not simply going through the motions.
Helos was flustered at first, but soon collected her thoughts, doing her best to describe everything she knew.
She even squatted down, gesturing the Golem’s height and pointing out the damaged areas.
Even when she didn’t know certain things, she admitted it honestly.
The girl, meanwhile, listened intently, her pen scratching rapidly across the paper.
After jotting down each detail, she would look up to confirm, careful not to miss anything.
When Helos had finished saying all she could, the girl finally set the pen down lightly, glanced over her notes, and fell silent, lost in thought.
After a moment, she nodded thoughtfully and spoke in a soft voice:
“Please wait a moment.”
With that, she turned and walked to the back of the Iron Smithy, her figure disappearing behind a heavy curtain.
The air fell silent once more, and Helos could only force herself to wait patiently.
Her small hand tapped the edge of the counter absentmindedly.
Judging by how meticulous this girl seemed, maybe, just maybe, there was hope this time?
Helos sighed softly, praying in her heart that she wouldn’t be disappointed again, like all those times before.
A long while passed before the heavy curtain was finally drawn aside.
But it was not the human girl who emerged, but a tall, cool-looking woman.
Her hair, too, was silver-white, but it was a shade of grey unlike Helos’ soft silvery glow.
The silver seemed tinged with grey, shining with an almost dazzling brilliance alongside her jade-green eyes under the firelight.
Her long, sharp ears left no doubt about her identity, and her dusky purple-gray skin set her completely apart from ordinary Elves.
Her attire stunned Helos even more.
Her tall figure was barely covered by a short, cropped leather vest, shoulders and much of her abdomen exposed, her well-toned curves glistening with sweat in the firelight.
She wore only dark leather shorts on her lower half, a thick tool belt strapped around her waist and packed with pliers, hammers, and polishing tools.
Both her arms and legs were wrapped with protective leather guards to shield her from sparks, but everything not covered was left almost completely bare.
The scent of fire and sweat clung to her, making her seem less like a craftsman hidden among cityfolk and more like a warrior who could step straight from the anvil to the battlefield.
Helos’ eyes widened instantly; she almost instinctively took a step back.
A Dark Elf?!
She looked up at the woman, then glanced down at the sign above the entrance—a sign clearly painted with a big-bearded Dwarf’s face. Her mind went blank, not even able to form words.
That was unmistakably a Dwarf’s head on the sign, wasn’t it?!
How could a Dark Elf be the one to step out?!
Helos stood there, dazed for several seconds, unable to utter a single complete sentence.
But the Dark Elf lady seemed well used to such reactions. She curled her lips into a faint smile and explained:
“Surprised? The big-bearded guy on the sign isn’t just some random drawing.”
Her voice was gentle too, though with a hint of mature charm. “I’m Milda, the owner and blacksmith of this Iron Smithy.”
“My craft was indeed learned from a Dwarf Master. When I was little, I was taken in by a Dwarf blacksmith—he not only raised me, but also taught me the art of forging.”
Helos listened blankly, nodding unconsciously.
“Later, I came to this city on my own. Since I don’t often show myself in public, day-to-day business here is handled by the girl you just met—her name is Mira.”
“As for the sign… Well, since I inherited my craft from the Dwarves, I naturally wanted to remember that legacy. So I painted my Master’s likeness there as a tribute.”
With that, she smiled and removed her gloves, revealing long, callused fingers.
“Well, since you’ve come all this way, let’s call it fate.”
Milda spoke slowly, her voice deep yet gentle, her gaze settling firmly on Helos.
There was pressure in those eyes, but not hostility—more like an intense scrutiny.
“Judging by your age, you must be quite a bit younger than Mira… But what made you want to craft Golem parts?”
She lifted a hand to scratch her cheek, pausing a moment. “That’s not something ordinary people would ever get involved with, you know.”
“Uh… I—I bought it from an Alchemical Workshop.”
Helos felt her nerves prickling under Milda’s stare, and instinctively took another step back to put some distance between them.
Though Milda’s tone wasn’t harsh—if anything, she sounded quite kind—her calm yet powerful presence was overwhelming, unlike anything Helos had encountered.
That pressure made it feel as if she could be driven into a corner at any moment.
She took a deep breath and answered slowly:
“But since it’s just a pile of wreckage, I only wanted to try repairing it. That’s all.”
I really dont get the title,.