[ WP ] All attempts to kill the demon lord have thus far failed . But in a small town , a random blacksmith accidentally forges the highest tier armor possible - plot armor . Hilarity ensues .

“ I ’ m telling you, I don ’ t need a new suit of armor, ” cried Rowan. “ I can hardly afford a gauntlet on what you pay me let alone a whole set! ” It was true. Just like everyone else in the kingdom of Haffenhaff, Rowan had fallen on tough times. 
 
 “ You either get one, or you get a new job! ” Hagar replied tersely. “ I ’ ve had it up to here with your antics, ” he said, holding his hand above his head. “ One day it ’ s ‘ I can ’ t come in, a hydra bit my leg off in our last run ’, the next it ’ s ‘ I ’ ve got no money to buy a new suit of armor ’. Get one or get out, this is your last warning, ” he slammed his fist on the table. The drinks and bowl of salted nuts wobbled in response. 
 
 “ I don ’ t need one, that ’ s what I ’ m saying, ” Rowan replied. “ Look, this one still works fine, ” he said, holding up a battered helmet and tapping it for Hagar to inspect. 
 
 “ Yeah I think you ’ re right. This one still works, ” he started. “ So long as everyone avoids this gaping hole. ” He put his fist through a large hole in the dome of the helm to illustrate his point. 
 
 “ Ah that. ” 
 
 “ Rowan, I don ’ t expect a delivery boy like you to understand. I ’ m running a business here. Customers pay for their packages to be delivered on time, ” he paused, holding his hands up as if urging Rowan to see the bigger picture. `` And I can ’ t do that if my delivery boy dies along the way. It ’ s bad business. ” 
 
 “ Then you should pay for the expenses. Armor doesn ’ t come cheap, Hagar, ” Rowan protested. 
 
 “ Hey, it was in the contract you signed. ” 
 
 “ What contract? ” 
 
 “ Never mind. What I ’ m saying is, if I loan you a cart for delivery and you damage it, logically the burden should be on you to pay for the damages. It would ’ ve been your fault after all. ” 
 
 “ I hardly think a cannonball to the head is my fault, ” Rowan said, holding up the damaged helmet again. 
 
 “ It kind of is, ” said Hagar as he shrugged. “ Look, I ’ ll be nice. I ’ ll give you a forward of next month ’ s pay. That should go some distance towards getting you a new suit. ” Hagar tossed Rowan ’ s meager salary onto the table. A paltry sum of 4 gold coins, which Rowan quickly swept up. 
 
 “ Yeah whatever. ” Rowan stood up in a huff, knocking down the wooden stool he was sitting on. 
 
 “ Hey, you ’ d better pick that back up, ” Hagar pointed at the stool. “ Wouldn ’ t want to ruin my reputation here. ” Rowan responded by hastily fastening his helmet and sweeping his hand over the table, knocking over the drinks and the bowl of nuts. 
 
 “ Yeah, I don ’ t think so, ” he replied, fed up of his employer ’ s continued terrible treatment of him. The only reason he still put up with Hagar was that Hagar was his son. “ Say hi to mum, ” he yelled as he walked out of the bar. 
 “ The drinks are coming out of your wages! ” Hagar called after him as Rowan waved him off. 
 
 Rowan was a delivery boy. Well, probably delivery man would be more appropriate. Milklandia had been laid siege to by the unstoppable army of the demon lord Darkjeeling, and more traditional jobs like farming and animal husbandry had become a whole lot less popular. The only jobs Rowan had ever known how to do. He strode among the ashen, barren plains which were once his calling, plains once teeming with goats, cows and overgrown with every kind of grain you could count. He made his way to the marketplace, once a hive of vibrant activity. Now all that remained of the old center for trade was the rickety, wooden stalls. Even the wares were different now. 
 “ Get your food potions here! Half-off duality elixirs! Regrowing spells! Delouser bombs! ” Rowan walked past the vendors plying their trade. So much had changed in the past years. Since the invasion, the skies had been nothing but a parade of dark, acrid clouds. Plants couldn ’ t grow and animals died out. The population was saved though, just barely, by the bright minds in the Wizards and Witches Institute of the Kingdom of Toopersand next door. 
 
 Food potions were all the rage now. Rowan had no idea how they worked, but all you really needed to do was to pour a drop of the stuff on any ashes lying around. Through some wonder of the wizarding world, the ashes would be transformed into edible gruel. The food didn ’ t taste like anything Rowan had particularly eaten before in his lifetime, but it sustained him. And that was all he really needed. 

