The sun's rays cut through the dark clouds, piercing the forest trees and hitting the ground. The flora was abundant, from the moss covering the trees to the logs at the river. Numerous flowers and foliage lay across the path. The sounds of the water drifting through the narrow stream and the subtle sway of the leaves surround the area.
Ryota's equipment buckles as he passes through a pile of rubble. Leaping from one boulder to another, then crossing a log on the stream of water. He finds himself on a dirt path that follows the stream down. Following the path down towards a bright light would reveal an immense Stipa grandis steppe.
Before continuing down the path connecting to the main dirt road, he would pause momentarily to scout around the steppe. The airy silver clumps of Stipa grandis flow gently along the stern winds, and further out in the distance was a tall, overgrown stone wall extending down towards the horizon.
The wall was centuries old, built to withstand many sieges during the Old Great War, and now serves no more purpose than a border to the kingdom grounds. Following the dirt path led to a prominent stone gate with many passersby and carriages going in and out. Now acknowledged for his whereabouts, he continues walking toward the main road.
When arriving at the main road, a carriage was filled with goods and supplies ranging from rice bags and wooden cups to finely crafted blades and armor.
As the carriage moved along slowly towards the kingdom, Ryota couldn't bear to glance at the coachmen dressed in poorly worn attire. Their appearance was a bit off, and Ryota suspects something was unusual. He took a closer peek into the crates and noticed a cage covered by a thick fabric cover.
The carriage struck a large rock on the road, shifting the cover, revealing an enslaved female Beastman. The chained-down Beastman locked eyes with Ryota. She seemed almost lifeless; her body was littered with scars. One of the coachmen would hop into the back and re-cover the cage.
He would look at Ryota, pausing for a second. He would then smirk, giving a shushing gesture with his hands, before hopping back on the box seat. Ryota's eyes widen, and his pupils constrict. Furious and disgusted, Ryota looked the other way.
With the other hand restraining himself, he clinches the handle of the wakizashi, which stops him from unsheathing. He knew that if he tried to help, he wouldn't risk being enemies of a merchant guild and causing chaos at the front gate. He greeted his teeth and continued his walk towards the kingdom gates.
As Ryota passed through the gate, the merchant carriage disappeared in the mists of the crowd. Ryota made his way across the market. Today was a market sales day, meaning items and goods were now priced less than average.
The bustling market had many shopkeepers yelling out their sales so customers would be attracted to them: "Woven quality fabric! Nowhere else can you get fabric like this! Thirty percent off!"
"Selling Sudorin embedded armor! Sudorin embedded armor!"
"Buy two and get another free! We sell things cheap here!"
"Buy our limited-time specials now! Made by the best blacksmith in town!"
Panning down the street to a less crowded area. The Lower-Class zone doesn't attract much attention as the items sold here are less pristine and valuable than Upper-Class zones. The buildings were run down, and the pavement had visible cracks and potholes.
It was muddy and dark, and the market was gloomy. Sellers don't shout out but sit there and sleep. A middle-aged man walks up to a seller polishing his Hwando (a single-edged short sword strictly used with one hand). He wore a duan da woven with mulberry silk, and his pants were made of cheap hemp. His hair was tied in a bun, leaving some hair behind, reaching to the shoulder. The man was poor, but he hid that behind his duan da. "Hey, how much is that Hwando?" The middle-aged man asks.
The seller stops polishing his Hwando and faces the man. "One chi coin; the previous price was two chi coins. This is fifty percent off."
"That's absurdly expensive for that rusted mess; do you accept Zhaojin currency?"
"No, we only accept Gorygeoseon currency."
"C'mon, I only have twenty-four Sa coins. But I have four pressed Zh coins and fifteen Zh coins!" He shows him the coins from his small sack filled with coins. "Sorry, we again only accept Gorygeoseon currency. Either find another seller or pay in Chi coins."
"Tch, What a waste of time. You should realize that I was being sympathetic for how shit your weapons are. That rusted-up kid's toy wasn't even worth anything anyway. It looks like it'll shatter by just swinging it around. No wonder why no one comes down here." The middle-aged man spits on the seller's shoe and scrambles in frustration.
The seller sighs, pulls his stool close, sits on it, and looks down in weariness. "Even on sales day, no one comes here to buy anything." He leans back and rests on the old, dry wooden wall, placing it in the bin of cheap weapons. He sighed, "This is just a waste of time." Then he looked down at the floor, disappointed.
Suddenly, a strange silhouette picks up the Hwando from the bin, holding the hilt firmly. "How much is this?" A Strange man asks. "Sorry, sir, we're closing up for today." He looks up and sees Ryota. Standing tall and mighty. He wore a torn black hakama, welding a wakizashi, sheathed under a finely crafted redwood Saya. His hair was straight, reaching his shoulder, and his arms were rough and bore many scars.
He inspects the sword, pulling the blade close to his face, then places his finger on the flat side, wiping the blade. He firmly held the handle, swung twice in front, and thrust behind. "May I test this weapon? If you don't mind, I will pay twice the price if it breaks." Ryota said calmly to the seller. "Do you have the money to pay?" The seller questions. Ryota throws a small sack toward the seller. "There is enough to pay the hwando tenfold. I am also here to buy some equipment, too."
Intrigued about what this man would do, he took two steps back and stood from a distance. With his left hand, Ryota grabs hold of the grip from the wakizashi and unsheathed from the redwood saya. The blade was a jet-black color with a distinctive wave pattern.
The seller's eyes widened; this blade he knew from stories was in front of his eyes. "Dark Iron Damascus!" He said to himself. "Said to be the rarest and hardest steel to craft, and I see it with my own eyes." The blade is polished and cleaned neatly from the top to the bottom. "How can someone like him have such a rare weapon?"
Ryota faces the flat side towards the blade of the Hwando. With his right, he raises the Hwando and swings towards the wakizashi. A large spark ignites, blinding the seller as it clashes and rings the surrounding area, blowing dust at the seller and startling pass-byers.
As the dust cloud dispersed, what was left of the wakizashi would lay on the dirt ground while the weapon he welded on his right deemed itself far superior to his wakizashi.
"How much is for this?"
"One Chi coin,"
Ryota reaches into the sack and grabs hold of the sturdy coin. Pulling out the coin, he hands it over to the seller. The seller, shocked, thought, "How could a weapon made out of Dark Iron Damascus be split in two with a weapon that I made." The seller would then ask Ryota with curiosity, "How is it that my Hwando could cut through your Dark Iron Damascus blade?"
"Your blade was simply more well crafted. The material doesn't matter if you aim for a quick fight." He continues to inspect the Hwando.
"May I ask you something?"
"Yes, you may."
"Do you know who has forged this Hwando?"
"Yes, it was me who forged it."
"Hm, the blade is beautiful yet rushed, resulting in an ugly finish. Why is it that?"
"Weapons that I make with time and dedication are always confiscated, marked as stolen weapons from the treasury, with their reasons being that no lower-class peasant like me can create such blades. So I hid them by rushing each step of the forging, resulting in an ugly appearance."
The seller walks over to the scattered weapons inside the bin and pulls out a Jian, inspecting the blade deeply with his gaze. "But I later found that many will only judge on the look of a blade rather than its quality." He put the Jian back in the bin and looked intensely at Ryota. "Who are you?"
Ryota stood quietly. "I knew something felt off when I saw that Wakisashi made with Dark Iron Damascus. Are you a noble?" Ryota continues to stay quiet. The seller sighs, "You are an interesting kid; My customer's privacy will be respected. My name is Zio Tan, and you?"
"Ryota, My name is Ryota." Zio would smile, "Ryota? What an interesting name. Won't hurt to keep the store open for a few more minutes; if you need anything else, let me know." Before Zio could walk to the back of the store, Ryota would mention, "Can you forge me a blade? Name the price, and I'll play in full." Zio stopped, turned around, and stared at Ryota. Thinking while caressing his beard, he closed his eyes and smirked. "I won't make you a blade through money, but you can run errands for me."
"Errands?"
"Yeah, this old man can't do much around anymore."
"You look to be around your thirties."
"Thirty is old! Can you see the growing arc in my back?" Zio points at his exaggerated pose.
"How come you weren't like that a while ago."
"Uh, Do you want me to make a blade for you or not?!"
Ryota sighs while scratching his head.
"Fine, old hag."
"Who you calling an old hag?"
"But aren't you one? You said you were an old man that can't do much anymore?"
Zio smacks the back of Ryota's head.
"Hey, what was that for?!"
"That was for being a smart-ass about it." Zio turned the other way with a smile. In his thoughts, he remembered something. To himself, Zio said, "He reminds me of you." Ryota walks up to Zio,
"Did you say something?"
"I asked if you had any place to stay." Zio faces Ryota again, "At the moment, I do not."
"Well, why don't you come upstairs and stay in the guest room for a couple of nights?"
"Do I need to pay you for this?"
"No, think of it as your payment for doing errands for me while I also make your blade."
"Alright."
Ryota and Zio walked up the stairway at the back of the store to the second floor. Leading inside was a dusty hallway with a window at the far end. Two Doors were on the left and right of the hallway.
"The guest room is on the far right. There should be crates; just move them out of the way, and there should be a bed and a drawer. Make yourself at home." Zio passes over the skeleton key to Ryota. "I'll be in the forgery; your errand run will start tomorrow; it's getting late."
Zio can be heard walking down the stairs. Ryota walks towards the door. It was quiet; the only things that could be heard were the creaking sound of the wood with every step, store sellers closing up for the night, and the distant sound of iron clashing with iron. "That must be Zio working in the forgery." Ryota thought to himself.
He approached the old dusty door. The door was barely holding on, with the frame almost eaten away by termites and the knob of the door almost rusted. It looked as if it could push it down with the palm of his hand. He placed the key inside the hole and then twisted it. The sound of the metal thunks continues before a prominent sharp click in the lock.
Ryota turned the rusty doorknob, allowing the heavy wooden door to creak open, revealing the dimly lit room. The soft glow of the night sky seeped through the lone window, casting a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow as it illuminated the dust particles suspended in the air. This room, once a place for storing various items, was now filled with countless dusty crates, haphazardly scattered about.
With deliberate movements, Ryota rearranged the disheveled space, ensuring that each crate was neatly aligned along the far right wall, while the remaining items occupied the left. Exhausted from the task, he finally settled onto the worn mattress, carefully placing his Hwando by the side of the drawer before allowing himself to relax. "I'll need to rest; I've got a busy day tomorrow." He said to himself.
Ryota lays down on the mattress and looks at the ceiling. His eyes flashed to the past; the ceiling was gone, and it was just the night sky. The distant sound of the campfire and its warmth were felt before flashing back to the present. "To think it took this long to sleep under a roof." He closed his eyes, relaxing his body, and slowly, he could fall asleep.