FFF-Tier System, SSS-Rank Wife-Chapter 66: Testing the charcoal

There weren’t all that many customers inside of the smithy to begin with.

When Selia filled the whole place with her killing intent, however, not one of them dared to remain and argue just how long they’d waited for the opportunity.

First, she was the town’s Saintess. Second, she clearly knew Greg, to whom the smithy belonged. Third, they all saw the clash between the smith’s owner and one of his suppliers. Fourth, Greg clearly expected them and had some plans regarding their company.

And finally and lastly, fifth, if Greg had any intention to stop Saintess from chasing them away, he would be sure to voice his opinion.

In the end, however, none of the leaving customers appeared to hold any sort of grudge over the lost chance to buy, repair, or order what they needed.

Greg was grumpy, sure, but he was fair. And if he chased them away now, all they had to do was leave and then wait for his business with the Saintess to be completed before they would be surely invited back.

And throughout all of this, Greg didn’t utter a single word of protest. Nor, against all the odds, did he reach for another bottle, either aware that he would end up incurring even bigger costs when he would inevitably smash it...

Or maybe he hoped that maybe, just maybe, my hurried return would allow him to compensate for the huge loss he just took?

"Okay, everyone’s out," Greg muttered once the last of the customers left and one of the smithy’s assistants closed the door behind them, only to then proceed to lock it through three separate locking mechanisms, ranging from a singular sliding pin, through a hefty, iron-reinforced log of wood inserted into special holders that hung both off the inner side of the door and the smithy’s walls itself, all the way to an added grate that locked onto the very same holders as the wooden log, further reinforcing it in place as it anchored itself to the ground.

"That’s one impressive security system you have here," I admitted, watching with my eyes progressively growing wider as the assistant added one safety measure after the other.

"Stop stalling," Greg cut my small talk in a grumpy yet slightly excited voice. "You said it worked, didn’t it?" And then, before even waiting for an answer, "Show me!"

I glanced over at Selia, only to see her sigh and shrug her shoulders before shaking her head a little.

"Well then, since you’ve asked so nicely..."

I allowed the left strap of my backpack to slide off my arm before swinging the entire thing over to my chest.

After quite some time of carrying it around, my arms were justifiably tired, creating a risk that if I tried to just hold the backpack in my hand... it would end up falling directly to the ground.

Sure, nothing bad would happen because of it. At most, the charcoal would shatter into slightly smaller bits.

’But it’s not always about practicality,’ I thought as I drove the zipper around before taking a deep breath and then rapidly twisting the bag around, dumping most of its content directly upon Greg’s counter.

’Sometimes, it’s all about presentation.’

Greg didn’t appear impressed even a tiny little bit. His eyes shone a little at the sight of the black pieces, but as soon as he grabbed hold of one, "What is this?"

Greg’s expression sank while his face grew darker.

"What the hell is this supposed to be?" his voice grew louder as he played around with the piece, moving it between his fingers, testing its strength, even staring at the black marks it left on his hand.

"It’s obviously lighter, much more fragile too..." Greg muttered while I leaned on the counter and observed his quirky behavior with as much patience as I had curiosity.

Despite his harsh tone, however, Greg didn’t stop at just the visual confirmation.

He took a moment to rub his dusty fingers against each other, feeling the texture of the ashen dust left behind by the charcoal pieces. Then he brought it closer to his eyes, inspecting it from much closer... all the way to even going ahead and smelling it out!

"This definitely isn’t coal," Greg finally muttered as he put the piece down, only to then stare at the pile I’d left behind on his counter in disgust. "And with how much lighter it is, I can already see the mountains of mountains we would need of this thing to replace the coals we are using."

Greg’s words were, by no means, encouraging.

He didn’t stop his testing even for a moment, though.

By the time the first few of his guys emerged from the smoky bellows of the smithy, Greg had already grabbed a handful of the coals before tossing them into a recently cleaned-out firebed.

"Umzik, if you would..."

A man emerged from the depths of the workshop, only to get down on one knee over the firebed before turning still.

A second or two later, a bunch of sparks appeared right in front of his open palm, only to turn into a thin ball of fire that instantly descended upon the charcoal.

The ball of fire persisted for just a very short moment. Yet, by the time it vanished, the wooden coals were already perfectly lit up, just the way I could remember them burning back when I myself used charcoal to power not a smithy, but a simple grill with friends.

"It’s burning..." Saintess muttered softly, her face a mix of relief and actual surprise.

’Right, she watched it burn for hours, so she must’ve suspected it couldn’t burn any longer,’ I thought, before turning my attention back to the smiths at hand.

Neither Greg nor any other smiths in the workshop dared to move, though, as they simply locked their eyes onto the flame and... just watched.

"It definitely lights up easier than coals," Umzik, the man who magically started the fire, admitted in a hushed voice. And as if opening up the floodgates of commentary, other voices soon followed.

"Is it an aromatic wood I smell?"

"Is it just me, or isn’t it burning a lot cleaner than the coals?"

Out of everyone, only Greg remained perfectly still and perfectly silent, not turning his eyes or attention away from the charcoal until he was fully satisfied.

Yet, as soon as he moved by straightening up, everyone else in the smithy froze still.

"Put it on the bellows."

This time, Greg didn’t shout, curse, or infuse his voice with as much frustration and anger as he did whenever he interacted with others.

Right now, he was too focused to bother with his little act. Yet, rather than conducting the test himself, he allowed his workers to grab the burning coals with a shovel while someone else cleaned out the mostly used coal from one of the big fire spots within the workshop.

It wasn’t just a simple fireplace but a full-blown forge—one of the four I could see, with more of them likely hidden deeper, where the smoke grew thick enough to properly obscure my view.

The burning charcoal dropped onto the forge’s coal-bed, elevated just high enough above the ground to make it comfortable both for humans and the dwarves to operate it.

"Boss, we will need more! A lot more!"

Greg merely glanced at the pile left on the counter.

"Take as much as you need."

The test soon continued as the burning coals were soon buried underneath a thick layer of the fresh, untouched charcoal pieces.

"Okay," Greg’s eyes grew perfectly still as he rested his hands on the edge of the forge’s frame, locking his sights on the now perfectly dim coal-bed. "Start pumping!"