Rowan was walking through the forest like a man sneaking through a dragon's nest. Even though the loudest thing around him was just birds chirping in the trees. If there was someone watching him right now, it would look like he was being chased.
But in reality, Rowan was simply being... Rowan.
He had taken the forest path only because it was a shortcut. And shortcuts were good because shortcuts meant going home faster away from the busy city, away from strangers, away from danger, and most importantly, away from any random holes that could swallow him alive.
Rowan always believed in two things. First, hard work will never fail you. And second, dying is very easy if you are not careful.
Both facts had been proven to Rowan a lot of times in his life.
He carefully hold the small pouch in his hands. The pouch had one silver and six coppers in it. That was the amount he earned after selling five kitchen knives his father had forged last night.
"One silver for flour and potatoes..." Rowan muttered to himself while walking. "Three coppers for oil... Hmm... Maybe I can use two coppers for some dried fish. And the last copper is for... I think emergencies? Like if father accidentally burns another cooking pot or he if he broke another clay jar in the kitchen."
Recalling those incidents, Rowan couldn't helped but sighed. His father was a genius blacksmith. But he was also a terrible cook. Maybe it was true when others said the heavens are always fair. You couldn't have all the good things and talents in your life.
While walking, Rowan's eyes darted around every few steps.
A tree root? Trip hazard.
A patch of blue flowers? Possibly poisonous.
A shadow moving? Probably a ghost.
Bird chirping? Bird plotting.
Cowardly? Yes.
But alive? Also yes! And Rowan intended to keep it that way.
He walked for another minute before he suddenly stopped. Because something ahead was shimmering.
"Hahaha... Nope." Rowan whispered before instantly spinning around.
Absolutely not. Shiny things in the forest were either a monster pretending to be treasure, someone was cursed and waiting to drag another victim or an actual treasure which is even more dangerous than monsters because dangerous people would show up.
Rowan took one step away. Then he stopped again. The shimmering thing was not moving at all. It was not growling. It was not glowing with demonic or even angelic light. It was not whispering 'come here, mortal!' which was a good sign too.
Then he squinted hard. His eyesight were not that great so squinting his eyes sometimes helped.
"...Is that... a sword?"
Rowan squinted his eyes harder.
"Yeah... It looks like a sword."
He kept squinting until his eyes looked like thin lines on his face.
"Maybe."
Rowan just stood there for a whole minute with his face twisted like a fake scholar who is trying very hard to solve a very difficult mathematical question. Soon, he relaxed his face and took a deep breath.
"Okay, Rowan. It's fine. Even if it's a monster pretending to be a sword, you can still outrun it. I guess?"
Rowan swallowed hard and crept forward like a turtle learning how to tiptoe. Once he was close enough, Rowan stopped again and tilted his head. He was right. It was really a sword.
A terrible and horrible sword.
It was probably the most pitiful sword that had ever existed.
Its blade was rusty, cracked and broken near the tip. The handle looked like someone had tried to chew on it. If swords had feelings, this one was probably begging for a lifetime retirement.
"Wow..." Rowan whispered and crouched down. "You're... Well... Kind of ugly."
Rowan looked around left, right, behind and above just in case the sky decided to drop a monster on him. And just like earlier, no one was there.
No magical aura. No traps. No suspicious footprints. No dramatic sounds and glittering powders in the air.
It was just a poor sword lying in the grass like it had lost its will to live.
Rowan scratched the back of his head.
"What do I even do with you?" he whispered to himself.
Maybe this was a blessing in disguise? Rowan was learning to be a blacksmith just like his father. Maybe he could fix the sword? Or maybe he could melt it down to practice his forging? His father said iron was always useful.
"Yeah. That's right. You might be good practice material." Rowan said while nodding to himself. "Father did say I need more experience before I can make a strong knife. And since you look like scrap metal anyway…"
Rowan glanced around one last time. He was just being extra careful because this is exactly how weird things begin in stories he heard in their village.
But it was still safe. There was still nothing suspicious or dangerous around. So Rowan reached down and picked up the sword.
Bu the moment his fingers closed around the hilt, the forest wind suddenly shook. The leaves from the trees rustled and a faint hum suddenly passed through the air.
Rowan's whole body froze.
"Oh no..." he whispered. "I picked up the cursed thing, didn't I?"
He stared at the sword in horror and put it back where he grabbed it. Thankfully, the sword did nothing. But Rowan still screamed internally.
'No, no, no, no! Rowan, why?! why did I touch it?! Stupid! Rowan, you idiot!'
He looked the sword while shaking and looked around rapidly as if someone would jump out yelling, "I got you!".
But all he heard was a squirrel from a branch. Rowan stared at it and pointed at the squirrel.
"Stop judging me! You don't understand my struggles!"
The squirrel squeaked like it did understand his words. And maybe, it thought Rowan was pathetic.
Rowan groaned and looked back at the sword before picking it up.
"Okay... Calm down. It's probably not cursed. Probably not magical. Probably not alive. Probably won't talk—"
"...that damn Fairy King! You little—"
Rowan squeaked.