"Aren't you going to the celebration?"
Roland asked, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"If you're not going... I'm not going either."
Sean shook his head, casually picking up another Wooden Sword.
"Huh? Don't be like that. I'm not a kid, I don't need you to babysit me..."
"No way!"
Sean cut him off decisively.
"I promised I'd protect you! What if that bastard Marco comes looking for trouble while I'm gone?"
"Heh heh..."
Seeing his best friend's conflicted expression, Roland couldn't help but chuckle.
"What about your Emily, then? You're not going to ask her to dance?"
"Not anymore..."
Sean mumbled, swinging the Wooden Sword listlessly.
"No girl, no matter how pretty, is more important than a brother. Besides..."
His voice trailed off.
"Even if I went, she probably wouldn't choose me as her dance partner..."
That answer made Roland burst out laughing.
Sean's earnest yet wronged expression was just too amusing.
"Damn it! Stop laughing!"
Sean protested, his face flushing red.
"Sometimes I really wonder if you're the same age as me... Instead of a celebration, you'd rather practice tedious Swordsmanship? It's unbelievable..."
"Tedious?"
Roland performed a flourish with his sword.
"I actually find it quite interesting."
The two of them talked as they practiced, and before they knew it, noon had arrived.
It was only then that Peyton emerged from the house, yawning.
"Hmm?"
Peyton grunted, rubbing his drowsy eyes. His gaze refocused on Roland in the courtyard.
'Is it just my imagination? How did this kid's Swordsmanship get so much better overnight... Don't tell me he's actually some kind of genius with the sword?'
"Uncle Peyton!"
Sean waved enthusiastically, having completely forgotten how Peyton had swindled him the day before.
Upon seeing Peyton, Roland also stopped what he was doing and bowed slightly.
"Yo!"
Pushing his doubts aside, Peyton pulled a wineskin from his waist, slowly uncorked it, and said teasingly,
"What's this, Sean? Not out joining the festivities? That's not like you."
"I... After the celebration, I'm planning to report to the recruitment post near the Black Pine Forest, so I need to hurry up and practice my Swordsmanship."
"If I can get noticed by Knight Beckham, I might be able to become a Knight's Attendant and fight side-by-side with an Extraordinary Ability User like a Knight!"
As he spoke, Sean's face was filled with yearning.
But seeing his best friend like this, Roland let out a soft sigh.
'In my opinion, marching on the Black Pine Forest right now is anything but a wise move.'
Even with Knights who wielded Extraordinary Power leading the way, that forest shrouded in Darkness was far too dangerous.
He had tried to persuade Sean many times before, even giving him a detailed analysis of the various dangers in the Black Pine Forest, but each time Sean had brushed him off with a joke.
Over time, Roland stopped insisting.
He knew his best friend all too well.
Beneath that simple and honest exterior was a heart more stubborn than anyone's.
Becoming a Knight's Attendant and fighting alongside a Knight was Sean's childhood dream.
Though they were as close as brothers, some decisions couldn't be changed by a few words from someone else.
Everyone had their own path to walk.
Thinking this, Roland could only offer a silent prayer.
'I Hope that Iron Sword and Heart-Protecting Mirror will see him safely home...'
As for Peyton and Sean's father, Gary, their opinions differed from Roland's.
In Peyton's words, the weak Green Skin mutts in the Black Pine Forest had only managed to succeed by catching the surrounding villages off guard and relying on their superior numbers.
Now that a Knight was personally leading soldiers to crush them, those Green Skin mutts didn't stand a chance.
So it was good for Sean to go and get some experience, better than sitting around at home doing nothing.
Looking at his nephew, who was almost obsessively devoted to Knights, Peyton snorted and found a shady spot to sit down.
He tipped his head back and took a swig of wine before speaking slowly.
"Kid, you like Knights that much?"
"Of course!"
Sean put down his Wooden Sword and nodded vigorously.
"They possess great Power and noble virtues! They punish evil, eliminate wickedness, and maintain peace..."
Sean recounted the tales told by Minstrels, rattling on and on about the virtues of Knights.
"Ha! I can't speak to their noble virtues, but as for great Power... there are plenty of people in this world stronger than Knights..."
Roland, who had been focused on his sword practice, couldn't help but pause and prick up his ears at these words.
"That's impossible!"
Sean couldn't stand hearing anyone blaspheme his idealized image of Knights, and his face instantly turned red.
"Why is it impossible? I once... ah, forget it... Why am I even talking about this stuff with a naive kid like you..."
Peyton seemed to recall some unpleasant memory, and his expression gradually darkened.
He fell silent for a moment before finally letting out a bitter laugh, getting up, and walking away.
Seeing him like this, Roland couldn't help but wonder.
'Could it be... that besides Knights, there are other Extraordinary Professionals in this world?'
But his question would go unanswered, as Peyton didn't return, even after nightfall.
Perhaps the daytime celebration had been too boisterous. Even the tavern, which was usually lively after dark, was now quiet, with only the owner, Lauren, dozing off at the counter.
CREAK—
The sound of the wooden door being pushed open startled the drowsy Lauren.
He rubbed his sleepy eyes and looked up.
A figure stood in the doorway, clad in a hooded cloak, their face wrapped in linen cloth, completely obscuring their features.
Lauren was long used to such sights.
After all, this place wasn't far from the Black Pine Forest, and Mercenaries often passed through.
These characters who lived on the edge of a blade were always a strange lot. Compared to customers covered in tattoos or wearing iron masks, this one with a covered face was relatively normal.
"Good evening, sir."
Lauren yawned.
"What can I get for you?"
Noticing Lauren's probing gaze, Marco subconsciously touched the linen on his face. After confirming that everything was in place, he spoke in a deliberately deep voice.
"I'm looking for someone."
He raised his arm and pointed to the darkest corner of the tavern.
There, at a rickety wooden table, a tall, gaunt figure was sipping ale alone.
The dim candlelight flickered across the man's hollow cheeks, casting him in a gloomy aura.
"Then suit yourself."
Hearing the reply, Lauren responded lazily, then leaned back against the counter and went back to dozing.
The dull thud of leather boots echoed on the floorboards. Marco soon stopped in front of the wooden table in the corner and sized up the man before him.
Tattered Leather Armor, lifeless eyes—the man exuded an air of decay.
'This guy... is he really an experienced mercenary?'
Marco's brow furrowed, a trace of doubt rising in his heart.
But on second thought, most of the Mercenaries in the village had recently gone to the Black Pine Forest to hunt Demons. It was already a stroke of luck to find one willing to take a job.
He sighed, his knuckles tapping unconsciously on the tabletop.
The crisp sound startled the man, whose head had been bowed. He slowly looked up, revealing a weary face.
"Hello, sir. I hear you need some help? By the way, my name is Sam..."
"I'm not interested in your name."
Marco cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand, then pulled a cloth pouch from his coat and slammed it on the table.
Seeing the man's cold attitude, Sam just shrugged indifferently and reached out to untie the pouch.
Inside were two Silver Coins and a portrait with some writing on it.
"When the job is done, I'll pay you one more Silver Coin."
Sam's eyes lit up at the price. He then carefully examined the portrait and the text on it.
"Roland..."
After muttering the name, Sam looked up.
"What do you want me to do?"
"I want him to never be able to pick up a hammer again for the rest of his life!"
Marco suddenly leaned forward, the candlelight dancing in his eyes.
The memory of the approving look Master Hawke had given Roland sent a suffocating wave of jealousy through him.
To become an apprentice under Hawke, he had pulled countless all-nighters practicing his Forging Skills, layering calluses upon calluses on his palms.
If he could just win the assessment two months from now and become Master Hawke's official apprentice, his life would change completely.
Not only would he inherit his father's Blacksmith Shop, but he would also get the chance to serve the nobility.
If his luck was good, he might even be able to get in with Knight Beckham.
He would not, absolutely could not, allow anyone to ruin this perfect plan.
At this thought, Marco squeezed out each word as if through clenched teeth.
"His right hand... I want you to cripple it!"