The glass in Shun's hand cracked just a little.
A thin line spread across it with a soft tink.
The old man stared at him. Veins popped on his forehead. His smile was gone.
"…35 Klip," he muttered.
"Th—thirty five…" Shun echoed under his breath.
"Pay up."
The old man's voice dropped. No joke this time.
Shun clicked his tongue. "Tch…"
His hand slid into his bag.
Then into the pouch.
He pulled out the coins and placed them on the counter.
"Here…"
The coins clinked softly.
The old man smiled like nothing happened.
"You look more reasonable than the rest, lad…"
BLAG.
A massive axe slammed down behind the counter.
The sound made a few people nearby go quiet for half a second.
Shun's eyes flicked past the old man.
He was holding that… the whole time?
The old man calmly took the cracked glass from Shun's hand.
"Tch. Cheap," he muttered.
He placed a fresh glass in front of him and filled it again.
"Well then," the old man said, leaning on the counter.
"What do you wanna know, kid?"
Shun didn't even hesitate.
"What is this place…"
He took a sip.
"…where the hell are we?"
That took the old man off guard.
He blinked. Once…
"…?"
"So you really aren't joking."
He leaned closer, eyes scanning Shun's face
The old man clicked his tongue.
"We're at the southernmost part of the Kingdom of Verdancyrr," he said slowly.
"The Forgotten Village."
A few nearby patrons went quiet, listening.
"If you head straight that way," he pointed with his chin, "you'll hit the Dark Sea… Cuts the north and south clean apart."
Shun stared into his glass, the water barely shaking.
"I see…" he muttered.
"Is that all?" the old man asked, raising a brow.
Shun opened his mouth, ready to ask another question—
The old man's hand shot out and stopped right in front of his face.
"Thirty-five Klip."
Shun's eyes twitched… Hard.
"…fuck."
He slowly backed away from the counter, clicked his tongue, and turned around. No way in hell he was paying again.
Shun pushed the tavern door open and stepped outside.
"Scamming old bastard…" he muttered, throwing a look over his shoulder as he walked off.
The door shut behind him, the noise inside swallowing the last of his curses.
Shun untied Dumdum and started walking through the village.
Walk.
Walk.
Walk.
That was it.
A few locals passed by. Old folks mostly. Some stared. Some didn't care.
"This place is dead as shit…" Shun muttered.
As the day dragged on, Shun and Dumdum ended up sitting near a tree at the edge of the road. Dumdum chewed on grass. Shun leaned back, staring at the sky, doing nothing.
Then—
Footsteps.
Shun's head snapped up.
An old man stood a few steps away. Different from the tavern geezer. This one looked calm.
Shun straightened up. Hand near his waist.
"…wut."
The old man smiled at Shun.
"It's very rare to see new faces here," the old man said.
"Where did you come from?" the old man asked.
Shun glanced at Dumdum, then back at him.
"The northern side of the kingdom," he replied.
The old man's eyes widened just a little.
"Oh," he said quietly.
Shun noticed something in the old man's hand.
A sickle.
Not a clean one either. Crooked. Old as fug.
The old man waved at Shun, then turned around and went back to work.
At that age.
"…Seriously?" Shun muttered.
The old man stepped into the field and started cutting wild grass.
Swing.
Miss.
Swing again.
"Aigoo…" the old man groaned as the grass barely fell.
Shun stood there, watching.
For some reason, the sight hit him.
Back home… Even though they were nobles, harvest season was still harvest season. His brother would complain nonstop. His father would act strict but still get his hands dirty. Shun remembered cutting crops until his hands hurt, then getting yelled at for doing it wrong.
"…tch."
Shun walked over.
"Yo… geezer," he said. "Lemme help a bit."
The old man paused mid-swing and looked back, surprised.
"Oh?" he said. "You don't have to—"
"Yeah yeah, save it," Shun replied, grabbing the sickle. "You're gonna die before finishing this shit."
The old man stared… then laughed softly.
After finishing the work, Shun and Dumdum rested at the old man's house.
Shun dropped flat onto an old bed. It creaked like it was about to give up. He stared at the ceiling, quiet for once.
Then it hit him.
"…Blacksmith."
He shot up and looked at the old man.
"Oi. Is there an old forge around here?"
The old man grinned a little.
"Every house in this village has at least one."
"…You serious?"
"You can use mine if you want."
Shun's eyes lit up.
He hadn't touched anything related to blacksmithing since he left home.
He rushed into the old man's forge.
It was rough, but usable. A small furnace. Old tools. A few materials lying around—just enough for repairs.
Shun grabbed the crooked sickle and stared at it.
"…Wait."
His mind locked in.
"What if…"
He heated the blade. Hammered it straight. Fixed the chips. Cleaned the edge.
Then he went further.
Stronger balance. Better grip. Sharper curve.
And even added some EXTRA!
"Ouff…" Shun breathed, sweat dripping.
He worked through the night without noticing the time.
When he finally stepped back, the sickle looked… different. Better.
He wiped his hands and smirked.
"What a surprise gift this is… kekek."