Chapter 7: Peyton, the Mercenary
“Enough!”
The argument abruptly ceased.
A slightly gaunt figure forcefully pushed open the door and quickly departed with his head down.
“Sam!”
Before Roland could react, another burly man appeared before him.
Upon seeing the man, Sean excitedly waved.
“Pey…”
But the burly man merely glanced at Roland and the other, then chased after the first man, disappearing at the end of the street.
“Uh…”
Sean lowered his raised right hand, awkwardly rubbing his nose.
“The man who just left, that’s my uncle, Peyton.”
“Mm.”
“Let’s just go inside for now.”
After speaking, Sean pulled Roland into the house.
The furnishings inside were somewhat simple, but very clean and tidy.
“Sean, where’s your father?”
“He should be at the shop selling meat right now.”
Sean closed the door, throwing the bundle in his arms onto the wooden table with a thud.
“So…”
He stared at the bundle on the table, slowly speaking.
“What exactly is this thing?”
Roland looked around, confirming that there was no one else in the room, then stretched, slightly raising his chin to indicate.
“Open it and see for yourself.”
“So mysterious…”
Sean mumbled discontentedly, reaching out to unwrap the bundle.
When the wrapping fell away and three iron swords were revealed, his previously puzzled expression instantly froze, then turned to shock.
“Father in Heaven!”
He cried out in surprise, grabbing a sword hilt and raising it high, his wide eyes filled with disbelief.
He stood in a daze for a long time before slowly shifting his blank gaze to Roland.
“B-b-buddy, is this… this is an iron sword?”
His voice trembled slightly from shock.
“I think your eyesight should be fine.”
Roland chuckled, shrugging.
“No, I mean…”
Sean excitedly swung it a few times, the cold metallic touch convincing him that it was all real, then he carefully hugged the iron sword to his chest, asking with a trembling voice.
“Where did you get it?”
“Of course, I forged it myself.”
Sean didn’t doubt Roland’s words, but looking at the other party’s calm expression, a hint of frustration couldn’t help but rise in his heart.
Both of them had learned from Hawke, but he hadn’t even mastered the most basic forging techniques, while Roland could already forge weapons independently!
The gap was simply…
“Tsk, the difference between people is sometimes greater than the difference between people and dogs.”
He muttered softly.
But then he thought, this genius in front of him was his best brother!
This thought immediately made the gloom in Sean’s chest vanish.
He tightly hugged the iron sword, his lips uncontrollably curving into a silly smile, stroking the blade for a while before reluctantly re-wrapping it.
“Are you planning to sell it?”
Sean spoke hesitantly.
“My dad said that it’s illegal to privately sell tools if you’re not part of the Blacksmith Guild…”
“But I can help you inquire at the tavern, maybe there’s another way.”
Hearing these words, a warmth welled up in Roland’s heart.
When he first transmigrated, because his body was too weak, he was often bullied by the other apprentices.
Whenever this happened, it was Sean who stood up for him, and in their subsequent interactions, he had always taken great care of him.
Without Sean, he might not have had the energy to focus on practicing his skills, let alone successfully becoming a Blacksmith Apprentice later and standing out among the many apprentices.
Based on these points alone, Roland felt that giving the other party an iron sword was simply not enough to repay this friendship.
“Why take it back? Isn’t your birthday in a few months?”
Roland’s lips curved upwards.
“This is a gift I specially prepared for you.”
“A gift? For me?”
Sean’s pupils suddenly constricted; he, who was usually so carefree, was now at a loss.
He carefully stroked the sword, his voice becoming a stutter.
“This… this is too valuable. Although I haven’t bought weapons, an iron sword like this must be worth a lot…”
“Alright, alright…”
Roland stepped forward without question, pressing the iron sword into his arms.
“Didn’t you say it? We’re the best brothers.”
“The best brothers…”
Sean murmured, repeating the words, then suddenly nodded heavily, his eyes shining.
“That’s right! We are the best brothers!”
He laughed and gave Roland a bear hug, so strong that the latter’s bones cracked.
“Gentler… gentler…”
Roland struggled to break free from the enthusiastic embrace, cautioning him.
“No matter who asks, even if your father or uncle inquires, don’t reveal that these weapons were forged by me, understand?”
“Yes, sir!”
Sean mimicked a manor guard’s salute, then began to lovingly play with the iron sword in his hand.
After a good while, he noticed another item in the bundle.
“Buddy? What’s this thing?”
“This thing…”
Roland stared at the iron plate with two cloth strips hanging from it that Sean held up, his eyelids twitching involuntarily a few times.
After taking a deep breath, he forced himself to walk forward calmly.
“Look…”
He said, while tying the crudely made breastplate to Sean’s left chest.
“This way, it can at least block a fatal blow aimed at the heart.”
“I see!”
Sean curiously flicked the iron plate on his chest with his finger, producing a crisp “ding” sound, then he vigorously patted Roland’s shoulder.
“Buddy! You’re simply a forging genius!”
“Genius?”
Roland showed a bitter smile, shaking his head helplessly.
“Alright, Sean. Put this… uh… protective gear away for now.”
As soon as the two had put away their things, heavy footsteps sounded outside the door.
Turning to look, they saw Peyton push open the door with a gloomy face.
With the bright sunlight from outside, Roland finally got a clear look at his appearance.
Beneath a prominent aquiline nose, sharp eyes peered from deep-set sockets, and his chiseled face was as resolute as if carved by a knife.
Coupled with his burly physique, his entire being exuded a subtle sense of oppression.
“Uncle Peyton, I’m back!”
Sean shouted excitedly.
“This is Roland, whom I mentioned to you before!”
Peyton grunted without raising his head, casually pulling out a small wooden bucket from under the counter.
As the oak stopper was pulled out, a wine aroma with a hint of fruit acid immediately filled the room.
He tilted his head back and took several large gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow.
The wine trickled down the corners of his mouth, forming droplets that hung on his thick beard.
After casually wiping his chin with his sleeve, Peyton’s lips twisted into a half-smile.
“What is it, Sean? Did the noble lord kick you out because you weren’t skilled enough?”
“Not at all. Tomorrow is the Celebration of the Heavenly Father, and Mr. Hawke gave us a holiday.”
Sean seemed already accustomed to Peyton’s sarcasm.
Thinking of the iron sword he had just received, he said somewhat impatiently.
“Uncle Peyton, please teach us some sword skills!”
“You two?”
Peyton raised an eyebrow, the wine bucket paused in mid-air.
“Yes.”
Sean nodded quickly, first pointing to his own sturdy chest, then patting Roland’s slender shoulder.
“You know, as soon as the celebration is over, Lord Beckham will conscript soldiers to suppress the monsters in Black Fir Forest. I want to enlist, but I only have brute strength.”
He scratched his head sheepishly.
“As for Roland…”
Feeling Peyton’s scrutinizing gaze, Roland appropriately offered a humble smile and said.
“Uncle Peyton, I’m also very interested in sword skills.”
“Hmph hmph…”
Peyton chuckled twice, putting down the wine bucket in his hand.
“Coincidentally, while I’m not skilled with other weapons, I do have some insights into sword techniques. It’s not impossible to teach you, but…”
He narrowed his eyes, revealing a foxy smile.
“What will you use as tuition?”
“Tuition?!”
Sean’s eyes widened.
“Uncle, I’m your own nephew!”
“Don’t give me that!”
Peyton tilted his head back and took another gulp of wine, letting out a satisfied burp.
“Do you know how much those retired veterans at the training ground charge to teach skills?”
He extended a rough finger.
“Ten silver coins a month!”
At this point, Peyton lowered his voice, feigning kindness.
“But since we’re family, I’ll only charge you five silver coins, how about it?”
