After much trial and error, I’d finally managed to turn the black-and-lime-green ore into something resembling iron. As it turned out, I needed to combine the black stone with the green metal, rather than extracting it—a discovery that had taken three long, frustrating weeks to make. The method, once I’d figured it out, was frustratingly simple. If I penetrated a chunk of the raw, unseparated ore with my mana, it became as malleable as normal stone did. I’d then kneaded the ore until all the colors were completely mixed, cut off the mana flow, and bam—an ironish bar.
I suppose fictional fantasy worlds do usually have strange minerals and stuff, huh... Makes me kinda excited, actually.
My excitement hadn’t lasted long. I’d eagerly transformed the iron into a frying pan, which promptly shattered on the third day of using it.
I mean, who would have guessed that you can’t just smelt something using magic and call it a day?!
When my coveted frying pan shattered, so did my heart. I sank to the floor, cursing myself and my new world in equal measure. Miraculously, somewhere in the midst of my self-despair, a faint image surfaced in my mind—a hazy memory from some old TV show, where molten iron was poured into a mold. Molten iron, rather than my modelling clay knockoff. I racked my brain, desperate to remember anything I could about the scene in question.
Tempering. Forging. Molten... Heat! It needs heat!
I hastily glued the pieces of my pan back together with magic and hit it with an all-out Heat spell. The pan didn’t melt like I’d half expected but instead produced a sudden cloud of black smoke that scared me half to death. By the time my heart stopped racing, the smoke had cleared, revealing a shiny, pitch-back frying pan. I stared at it, dumbfounded.
It was blackish before, but not like this. It wasn’t shiny either. Could... Could it be?
Trying and failing to curb my excitement, I grabbed the pan and made a beeline for the kitchen.
Somehow or other, it had worked. I’d made a perfect, reliable frying pan. Whatever I cooked, be it meat or vegetable, came out with a flawless sear and exemplary grill marks—neither of which I’d been able to achieve before the pan had broken.
I can’t let myself get too excited, though. If it breaks again, I’m not sure my heart will be able to take it.
I decided to give the pan a week before letting myself get too attached. Seven tense days dragged by, but to my relief, the pan held strong.
I did it! I did it!
The rest of the day passed in a haze of euphoria, as if I’d gotten drunk on the feeling of my own success. It wasn’t until halfway through the next day that I remembered how concerned everyone had been about me, or how worried they’d looked.
I decided to forget about it just as quickly.
Being able to let go of things is an important life skill.
My attempt to make a frying pan—and the dramatic saga it swiftly became—had started as a way to entertain myself whenever I needed a break from the landscaping project. It ended up taking over a month before the collective clay dolls finally declared we were finished—and with the three weeks it had taken me to figure out how to make iron, my frying pan was finished at basically the exact same time.
Although now that I think about it, it was actually a pretty poor choice for a change of pace. All it did was add to my stress. Next time, I’ll pick a slightly more relaxing side project— Hang on, I don’t want any more side projects. And I sure as hell don’t want any more major ones! No more landscaping!
The days were much hotter now compared with when we’d started, and the last few in particular had been a consistently warm—but still bearable—temperature.
Guess summer is here. Well, if this is as hot as it’s gonna get, maybe it won’t be too painful... But I can’t let my guard down just yet.
A smorgasbord of unfamiliar fruits and vegetables obscured the table before me.
I’d gone down for breakfast this morning to find the mountain of produce in front of my usual seat at the dining table and two members of the Farm Brigade standing to attention nearby.
They’re probably waiting for me to taste test them, I think... Can’t it wait till after breakfast?
I turned to the dolls to say something but hurriedly averted my eyes from the glowing, unblinking stares that were fixed on me.
I’m not scared or anything! But on an unrelated note, I’ll test the food now.
It wasn’t exactly the most pleasant way to start the morning. Even less pleasant was biting down on the first of the many new crops, a small, berrylike seed that tasted exactly like a peppercorn. It washed away any of my remaining sleepiness, at least, though the spiciness did just about short-circuit my brain.
The next sample was more enjoyable—grapes, or something close enough. I didn’t even care that they were five times the size of our grapes back home. They tasted just like them, which meant they were possibly similar enough to make—
Wine! I can make wine! Damn, I want a drink.
I wasn’t a heavy drinker, but I did like a bit of alcohol every now and again. Really, I would prefer to have a beer, but I didn’t have the first idea about how brewing worked. Wine, though, was as easy as crushing some grapes and leaving them to ferment—as far as I could remember, anyway—which was surely something I couldn’t screw up too badly.
For now, I’ll ask the Farm Brigade to plant a few more of these “grape” vines and hope I can make it work... And I’ll also ask them to hold off on any future taste tests til after breakfast.