Another day, another mess approaches in this peaceful village. The chief of the village probably thought he had a brilliant idea. As soon as Greg heard it, he knew it was a terrible idea already.
The chief, smiling broadly, announced in the town square, "Another day, another peaceful activity we had to do! Hmm... I wonder if there's something fun that we can do."
The chief starts to scratch his hair, and then an idea pops up like a lightbulb on his head, "Oh, I know what we have to do! Let's make a festival!"
"We'll have a real festival to honor Master Greg's amazing work in Ferndale. To make the festival worked we need music, food, games, and a forging demonstration as the main event!"
Greg, who was trying to sneak past to get breakfast at Lylia's restaurant, stopped dead in his tracks pretending not to hear what the chief said. "What's a what now?"
"A festival about demonstration of forging! We'll put your forge right here in the square so that people can see you work." The chief notices his presence.
"It will be fun and educational!" The chief put his hands together.
"We've already sent out invitations to towns close by. This will make Ferndale famous!"
Greg looks confused. "How the hell did you send out the invitation that fast even though you already had that idea of a festival seconds ago...? Maybe that's chief power, I guess... wait... No!"
"Ferndale is already famous enough. Too famous, that's the issue. We don't need any festival that only makes me become even more famous, not to brag here, by the way."
"That's not true! This is a party for peaceful craftsmanship. What could go wrong?"
Greg could think of about sixty-seven things that could go wrong, but before he could write them down, Seraphine showed up with her notebook, which she always has with her. "This could actually be good, having a festival, that is."
"A controlled public demonstration would let me finish my research while also keeping your expectations in check. Furthermore, it might satisfy some of the curiosity that has brought so many people to the village."
"Or it could make things worse, no?" Greg said quietly.
"Come on, Greg! Don't ruin the party! It'll be fun!" Marina said, as if she had come out of nowhere. She had a knack for being there when something interesting was about to happen.
"I've been to forge festivals in the past. They usually have contests where other blacksmiths try to do better than each other. You could totally win this one without even trying."
"I would rather not win, and I would rather not compete in this crap. All I wanted was to make something in peace and then maybe take a hibernation."
But the village had already made up its mind. In three days, Ferndale had changed. There were colorful banners hanging between buildings, food stalls lining the streets, and someone had set up a temporary stage in the square with Greg's forge as the main attraction. It was both amazing and terrifying.
Blacksmiths from nearby towns came, each eager to show off what they could do. Greg knew right away what kind of people they were. They are referred to as the craftsmen who were proud of their work and weren't going to let some upstarts with legendary items take all the credit. He couldn't hold them responsible.
The village chief gave a speech at noon to kick off the festival. The speech transformed Greg from a weary blacksmith yearning for solitude into a legendary hero. Then there was food, music, and finally the event Greg had been dreading.
The chief said, "Welcome to the Forge Showdown!"
"Five blacksmiths will make things based on a theme, and the audience will vote for their favorite!"
"The theme for this round is light. Create something that makes light!"
Greg looked at the other four blacksmiths, who were all already drawing plans and getting materials ready. There was a grizzled dwarf who looked like he'd been smithing since before Greg was born, and there was also a young woman with tools that looked like they were of high quality.
"I guess I can't just give up?" Greg asked in a low voice.
"No way," Lylia said from the front row.
She had closed her restaurant for the festival and was watching with such intensity that Greg was worried. "You're representing Ferndale. Besides, it's just a lamp, anyway."
"How strange could it get?"
Greg chose not to respond to that. He began with a simple oil lamp with a clean design. He tried to keep his mind off of what he was doing as he hit the metal with his hammer. "Just a light, a normal, regular light that wasn't magical and wouldn't do anything weird."
The runes had different plans. They came in gold and silver and spiraled around the base of the lamp in patterns that looked like musical notes. Greg's stomach dropped when he realized what was going on.
"No," he said softly. "Not again."
But the metal had already made up its mind. The lamp looked elegant and simple when he was done. It had a glass chamber for oil and a graceful handle. It also hummed with energy that was barely contained, making the air around it shimmer.
[Crafting Complete!]
[Item Made: Lamp of Happy Light]
[Quality Rank: SSS]
[Special Properties: Can't be broken, makes light without fuel, can change the brightness of the light with thought, and sings opera when lit]
[Achievement: Musical Lighting]
[The gods think this is funny]
"Opera singer," Greg read in a flat voice. "What the fuck are you thinking, making such an abomination?!"
The other blacksmiths were done with their work. The dwarf had built a strong lantern that burned brightly with very little fuel.
The young woman had made a beautiful candelabra with three arms. The other people had made different kinds of useful light sources, and all of them were perfectly normal and respectable.
Greg's turn to light his lamp came next. "Just this once, I'm begging you... don't make anything weird in front of those blacksmith, I don't want anyone to be interested in my stupid and weird work!"
When he turned it on while praying inside his head, the square was filled with bright golden light. It was warm and welcoming, just the kind of light you want on a cold night. And then the lamp started to sing.
It was a beautiful operatic aria that Greg didn't understand the words to, but it somehow got across themes of hope, home, and happiness. The voice was neither male nor female, it was something in between, pure and haunting.
"Please, system... can you not make me stupid things that cost my popularity here?!"
[No]
"Oh, fuck me..."