As the sun began to rise, the village of blacksmiths was alive with the crackling of flames in every forge, the rhythmic sound of hammers striking iron echoing through the air. Among them, some craftsmen had been working tirelessly since the previous night, their bodies covered in soot as they dashed about the village, basking in the morning light.
“Good morning, Flora-chan! It must have been noisy last night, huh? Did you manage to sleep?”
“Good morning, Ms. Barbara! Surprisingly, I slept soundly!”
“That’s great to hear!”
Mr. Dolf and the others had been busy since last night, drafting blueprints, compiling lists of necessary items, and experimenting with prototypes, working late into the night. While some people struggle to sleep with the sounds of chatter and clattering, I found myself lulled into a deep slumber by it, as if it were a soothing lullaby.
Even now, the sounds of hammers striking iron, saws cutting wood, the satisfying thud of nails being hammered, and the shouts of those carrying heavy loads filled the air, mingling with laughter. The village was alive with sound, but rather than being bothersome, it felt like a delightful symphony.
Once I washed my face, I set to work preparing breakfast for everyone. I sautéed corn and onions in butter, then blended them into a smooth corn soup base. I added potatoes, vegetables, and barley, simmering it all together, and topped it off with a sprinkle of cheese for a hearty barley porridge. I also prepared plenty of egg dishes alongside herb-roasted chicken.
“I’m starving… I’m done for… I’m going to die from hunger…”
“Hey, don’t you dare die yet! Come on, lumberjack, pull yourself together!”
“Hang in there, big brother lumberjack! Breakfast is just around the corner!”
Mr. Gilbert returned, somehow supported by the village children.
“By the way, listen up, you all! I’ve said it many times, but I’m not a lumberjack! I’m just helping out today! That old man Dolf spread that lie about me becoming a lumberjack, and now it’s stuck!”
Surrounded by the children, Mr. Gilbert slumped his shoulders in defeat, while Mr. Dolf stood behind him, grinning widely.
“What are you talking about? If you work as a lumberjack today, it won’t be a lie anymore, will it?”
Mr. Dolf laughed heartily as usual, and Mr. Gilbert exaggeratedly pretended to cry, drawing comfort from the children.
It seemed Mr. Gilbert had been called out early in the morning to help with cutting wood. Normally, fresh timber requires drying, but thanks to the village’s secret technique, it could naturally dry in just a few hours.
“Ah… this is delicious, it’s revitalizing… Ms. Flora’s cooking is the best…”
Gathered around the table with the children, Mr. Gilbert said with a voice full of warmth, devouring his breakfast with gusto. His happy expression as he ate made me feel delighted as well.
“Sorry, am I eating too much? I hope I’m not finishing everyone’s share.”
“Don’t worry! The Magic Pot is in a good mood this morning, and if we run out, I’ll just make more. It’s so rewarding to see you enjoy it!”
“The soup lady’s food is super tasty!”
As we chatted, I handed Mr. Gilbert his third helping of corn soup barley porridge, and his eyes sparkled with joy. When he was quiet, he had a strikingly handsome face, but for some reason, watching him eat reminded me of a big, happy dog. But that’s a secret between us.
After cleaning up from breakfast, I set to work on the bag for travel supplies that Ms. Barbara had requested.
Using the treadle sewing machine crafted by Mr. Dolf, I stitched together tanned leather. I added a quilted lining with cotton inside, creating a double-layered structure to ensure it wouldn’t tear even when carrying heavy iron pots and tools.
Once it was finished, I eagerly packed it with pots and tools for the journey… but then I noticed something strange.
“…? Ms. Barbara, is this also magic?”
To my surprise, the bag, which looked like it could only hold one pot, already contained three pots and a kettle, with plenty of space still inside. Yet, when I lifted it, it felt surprisingly light.
Ms. Barbara wore a beaming smile, reminiscent of a child who had just succeeded in a prank.
“Correct! But you see, the magic is woven into that sewing machine. And also in the needle and thread.”
Then Ms. Barbara came over to my side, examining the bag that snugly held the pots and kettle, gently stroking the seams.
“Yes, it’s a wonderful creation. Even with the magic, it doesn’t mean just anyone can do the same thing. …I was right to trust you with this, Flora-chan.”
As Ms. Barbara said this, she lovingly caressed the leather tool bag I had made. Perhaps my experience in sewing had paid off. I felt a flutter of joy in my heart at her praise.