"Excuse me," Cain called out as he stepped into the blacksmith's shop, the door creaking slightly as he pushed it open.
"Oh, a customer," the blacksmith said, looking up from his workbench. The shop was warm and filled with the clanging sound of metal and the faint aroma of coal and sweat. "What can I do for you, kid?"
Cain nodded respectfully and approached the array of tools hanging on the wall. "I'm here to see if you can sell me some blacksmithing tools," he said, his fingers lightly tracing the edges of the various implements.
"Tools, and not a sword?" the blacksmith asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "That's a first. What do you need them for?"
"It's a personal request," Cain replied with a vague smile, avoiding further details.
"Hmm, well, alright. What specific tools are you looking for?" the blacksmith asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Just the basics," Cain answered, glancing around at the neatly arranged tools. "Hammer, tongs, anvil, that sort of thing."
"Oh, I think I have a set of those lying around here somewhere," the blacksmith said, turning to rummage through a cluttered shelf. "That'll be 30 coins."
"30 coins, huh? That's a bit steep, but I'll take it," Cain agreed, his tone indicating he was used to negotiating.
"Alright then. Go find a cart and come back to pick them up," the blacksmith instructed.
"You've got it," Cain said with a nod, a satisfied grin on his face. He left the shop, pleased with the deal and eager to complete his errands.
Cain hurried to a nearby stable, where he quickly arranged for a cart to transport the tools and supplies he needed. After securing the cart, he went to pick up the food reserves he had ordered for his journey. With his tasks nearly complete, Cain made his way back to the blacksmith's shop.
As he approached, he noticed a commotion outside. A large crowd had gathered, and the noise of an argument reached his ears. The blacksmith and a mercenary were in the middle of a heated confrontation.
"Damn scoundrel, how dare you cheat me!" the mercenary bellowed, his face flushed with anger. His voice echoed angrily through the narrow street.
"…"
"Speak up, why did you give me such a shoddy sword?" the mercenary demanded, glaring at the blacksmith.
"You asked for a sword and provided me with iron," the blacksmith replied calmly, leaning against his workbench. "It's not my fault the iron was of poor quality."
"What? Stop lying, you third-rate blacksmith! The iron I brought was the best in the region. You must have given me a cheap, disposable piece."
"Ha! Do you think an honorable blacksmith like me would do something like that? My creations are like my children—crafted with love and care. It's not my fault your sword broke because the iron was mediocre," the blacksmith said, a note of disdain in his voice.
"Stop talking and give me my money back!" the mercenary shouted, his patience wearing thin.
Despite the mercenary's aggressive demeanor, he had no weapon, and the blacksmith stood his ground with an air of quiet confidence. Cain observed the scene with a mixture of irritation and amusement, his eyes narrowing at the mercenary's antics.
"Shut up," Cain said, stepping forward into the fray.
"Eh? Who are you, little brat? This is a private dispute between him and me," the mercenary snapped, turning his ire towards Cain.
"That's exactly why you should be quiet!" Cain replied sharply.
"Get out of my way, you filthy brat…"
Cain didn't need to draw his sword or engage in any physical confrontation. He simply waited until the mercenary was close enough and then delivered a swift, precise punch to his face. The impact was enough to send the mercenary stumbling backward, his arrogance replaced by confusion.
"Look at your sword, you fool. It's obvious from a distance that it's well-crafted, but the material is poor. You noticed that too, didn't you? I bet you knew from the start it was a scam," Cain said, his voice cold and unwavering.
"!!!!"
"Now get lost and slink away like a dog with its tail between its legs," Cain added, his gaze icy and unforgiving.
The mercenary, clearly baffled by the strength and authority of the young boy, retreated quickly, leaving the scene in utter defeat.
••••
"Thank you very much, kid," the blacksmith said, his tone genuine as he watched the mercenary leave.
"No problem. But did you prepare everything I requested?" Cain asked, his eyes scanning the shop for the promised items.
"Oh yes, come this way," the blacksmith said, leading Cain to a storeroom. Inside, the space was filled with everything from neatly stacked firewood to a variety of intricate tools.
"Perfect. I think I'll take all of this," Cain said, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he surveyed the array of equipment.
"If that's what you want, it's best to transport it with a cart," the blacksmith advised.
"Don't worry, I've got one," Cain said, whistling for his horse, which appeared promptly at his call. "And thanks a lot for all your help."
"Don't mention it. Thanks again for handling that earlier," the blacksmith said with a grateful nod.
Cain left the blacksmith's shop contentedly, having secured everything he needed for his stay in the mountains. With the cart now loaded and ready, he set off, contemplating the challenges that lay ahead. A boy in a cold land, equipped with only a few days' worth of food and blacksmit
hing tools, was about to face the harsh wilderness.
End of chapter 20