Translator: CinderTL
At dawn, as the sky barely began to lighten, Darco's eyes snapped open.
The young noble glanced lazily at the pale sky through the window and yawned languidly.
After a moment to gather his senses, he slowly rose from the goose-down bedding.
A servant who had been waiting patiently outside the door immediately knocked softly upon hearing movement.
"Young Master Darco, are you awake?"
"Hmm."
Darco rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes, his voice still thick with morning drowsiness.
"Come in."
"As you command."
The door swung open, and several well-trained servants entered in single file, pushing walnut carts carved with intricate floral patterns.
With their professional and attentive service, Darco quickly completed his morning routine: washing, dressing, and breakfast.
Once everything was in order, he leaned on his oak cane and strode out, surrounded by his personal attendants.
After navigating the somewhat slippery gravel path, the group arrived near the manor's stables.
Darco scanned the area until he spotted a handsome young man standing before a black horse, holding a grooming brush.
The morning light outlined his slender yet sturdy frame.
Though only seventeen or eighteen, the boy's features had already shed their youthful softness. His nose was high and straight, his jawline sharp and defined, and his amber eyes gleamed with an unusual sharpness in the dim light.
His long black hair was neatly tied back, with a few stray strands framing his forehead, accentuating his pale, almost icy complexion.
Though the chainmail was concealed beneath his inner tunic, the glimpse of its corner revealed its exceptional craftsmanship. The silver-gray metal rings shimmered with a cold, metallic luster in the morning light.
His dark brown linen robe billowed slightly in the breeze, revealing the iron sword hanging at his waist.
The scabbard was plain and unadorned, but the leather grip of the sword hilt had been polished to a shine through frequent use.
Mud clung to his boots, and leather bracers encircled his wrists, lending him an air of efficiency and composure.
Brush, brush, brush!
The brush rhythmically swept across the black horse's back, tracing smooth curves across its glossy, well-oiled coat.
As fine dust drifted down with each stroke, Roland knelt on one knee and carefully lifted the horse's foreleg.
Dried, hardened mud clung to the edges of the horseshoe.
With each crisp click of the iron hook scraping against the metal, brown clumps of dirt peeled away and fell to the ground.
The final step was washing.
Roland tilted the wooden bucket slightly, pouring a stream of silvery water over the horse's back, rinsing away every last trace of hay and dust.
The black horse suddenly shuddered, its mane flying up in a flurry.
As countless glistening droplets soared into the air, a line of golden text slowly materialized in Roland's vision:
You have successfully cleaned a horse. Gained 1 experience point.
Roland glanced at the notification, but his hands never paused.
He retrieved a dry biscuit mixed with hay and oats from the saddlebag. With his broad palm, he gently crumbled the biscuit into bite-sized pieces.
Just as the black horse lowered its head docilely to eat from his palm, another line of golden text appeared:
You have successfully fed a horse. Gained 1 experience point.
"If I'm not mistaken..."
Roland stroked the horse's mane, his fingers threading through the thick strands as his thoughts drifted away.
"If I max out Cleaning Horses, Feeding Horses, and Basic Horsemanship, I should be able to unlock a stablehand-type job."
"I wonder what unique traits this job will have. And if it resonates with my other jobs, what additional benefits might it bring?"
With that thought, Roland's mind stirred, and a semi-transparent Job Panel instantly materialized before his eyes.
Name: Roland
Race: Human
Age: 17
Jobs: Blacksmith Apprentice, Recruit, Adept, Blacksmith, Hunter
Strength: 7.8
Agility: 4.7
Spirit: 1.8
Skills:
- Lv. 2 Basic Forging Technique (6/200)
- Lv. MAX Basic Swordsmanship
- Lv. MAX General Knowledge
- Lv. MAX Mithril Body Tempering Technique
- Lv. MAX Basic Archery
- Lv. MAX Basic Dagger Technique
- Lv. MAX Basic Spear Technique
- Lv. 3 Lion Swordsmanship (18/300)
- Lv. 1 Momentum Slash (12/100)
- Lv. 1 Basic Horsemanship (18/100)
- Lv. 1 Cleaning Horses (8/100)
- Lv. 1 Feeding Horses (8/100)
Traits: Humble Apprentice, Combat Readiness, Focus, Animal Companion, Furnace Heart
Additional Buffs: Hundred-Refined Steel, Theory and Practice, Standardized Production, Ecologist, Adaptive Training, Battlefield Maintenance
Roland's gaze swept across the Job Panel, densely packed with "MAX" markers. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Not bad for half a month's work."
Two weeks of relentless training had increased his strength by 0.2 and agility by 0.1.
As for cleaning and feeding horses, and basic horsemanship, he had specifically requested Darco to take him to the stables to trigger those skills.
Seeing Roland's enthusiasm, Darco had generously gifted him the black horse.
As expected, basic combat skills like Basic Dagger Technique, Basic Spear Technique, Basic Archery, and basic swordsmanship all capped at Level 2.
Fueled by the Combat Readiness trait, he had quickly maxed them all out.
"Only one more skill to go before I can advance to warrior: Lion Swordsmanship."
It wasn't that he didn't want to learn other combat techniques, but the manor guards primarily excelled in battlefield combat, making them more proficient in swordsmanship and spear techniques.
If not for an old veteran Darco had found who had once been a mercenary, Roland wouldn't have even been able to learn Basic Dagger Technique.
"No matter. We're hunting demonic beasts next. With the Theory and Practice trait, I should be able to master Lion Swordsmanship quickly."
As Roland pondered, a voice suddenly called out beside him.
"Roland!"
Turning toward the sound, he saw Darco approaching with a limp, leaning on his familiar oak cane and surrounded by several servants.
"How's he doing?" Darco asked, patting the horse's neck with a hint of pride in his voice. "Black Wind's quite impressive, isn't he?"
Black Wind was the name Darco had given the black horse. Though somewhat cliché, Roland didn't mind and had adopted the name himself.
"He's a good boy," Roland replied with a faint smile, stroking the horse's back.
As his fingers glided over the silk-smooth coat, his eyes lit up with approval, but inwardly he sighed softly.
It wasn't that he was dissatisfied with the horse itself, but when he used his Animal Companion trait to communicate with Black Wind, the results fell far short of his expectations.
If Red Squirrel Joe in the forest had the intelligence of a teenager, Black Wind barely resembled a child of three or five. He could understand simple commands but struggled with more complex communication.
This limited communication hindered his progress in practicing horsemanship, making it less efficient than he had hoped.
"When are you planning to set out?" Darco asked, unsheathing an ornately decorated dagger from his waist.
The silver scabbard gleamed softly in the evening sun, while the hilt was meticulously engraved with the family crest.
"Take this. If you run into trouble, show it to the Sheriff of Pine Wood Town. He'll recognize it as one of my personal items."
Roland frowned slightly, his fingertips gently tracing the sheath of the dagger.
The luxurious feel instinctively made him want to decline, but when he looked up, he met Darco's sincere gaze.
"Then I won't stand on ceremony."
"That's more like it!"
Seeing Roland refrain from thanking him this time, Darco let out a hearty laugh and clapped Roland heavily on the shoulder with his broad, calloused hand.
He then leaned in close, lowering his voice.
"When you get back, you'll have to tell me all about what it's like being an adventurer."
The young noble glanced furtively at the surrounding servants and grumbled, "I've been cooped up in this manor for half a month already! My bones are practically rusting! Heaven knows when my father will finally let me go hunting again."
"Ha ha ha!"
Roland chuckled at Darco's exasperated expression.
"You'll have to wait for your leg injury to heal, won't you?"
"I doubt it," Darco muttered, pouting and shaking his head in mock despair.
Amidst their banter, Roland nimbly swung himself onto his horse.
Under Darco's watchful gaze, man and steed gradually disappeared down the narrow forest path east of the manor.
The journey proved unexpectedly uneventful, with only the gradually shifting scenery reminding Roland of his progress.
The once-wide road gradually narrowed, while the pine trees lining the path grew taller and denser, their branches intertwining to form a verdant canopy overhead.
As dusk began to settle, the weathered walls of Pine Wood Town finally appeared at the end of the road.
The gate guard scrutinized Roland's refined features, his brow furrowed and his tone curt.
"Whether you're a mercenary or some so-called adventurer..."
He paused, visibly irritated.
"Remember this: no trouble in town, understand?"
His impatient demeanor and harsh tone made it clear that this guard had been worn thin by the constant stream of mercenaries and adventurers passing through Pine Wood Town.
Roland nodded with a faint smile, dismounted, and led his horse through the gate into the town.
The streets were far more crowded than he had anticipated.
Roland guided his horse slowly forward, his boots crunching through the muddy road littered with horse dung. The air hung thick with the mingled scents of ale, sweat, and rust.
The crooked wooden houses leaned against each other as if on the verge of collapse. Beneath leather armor drying on window ledges, unsheathed daggers dripped water.
The horse suddenly snorted nervously.
Roland followed its gaze.
In the alley's shadows, a gaunt figure in leather armor was wiping blood from a longsword, while a burlap sack at his feet writhed strangely.
Just as their eyes met, three drunken mercenaries burst through the tavern's wooden doors, stumbling out into the street.
Roland sidestepped to avoid the splattering beer foam and instinctively glanced inside the tavern.
A blindfolded waitress was tearing bandages with her teeth to wrap a customer's wound, her right hand never leaving the sharp dagger at her hip.
Bang!
A muffled crash sent splinters raining down from the ceiling.
The sudden brawl on the tavern's second floor drew all eyes upward.
As a figure crashed through the wooden window and plummeted to the street, a street vendor selling grilled skewers expertly flipped his oilcloth over his grill.
Roland noticed the vendor's defensive gesture as he flipped the cloth, and the faint glint of a metal bracer beneath his greasy apron.
Good grief, this isn't a town—it's a miniature military camp!
"New here?"
The old man smoking his pipe in front of the blacksmith shop suddenly spoke, interrupting Roland's thoughts.
The flickering firelight revealed an old arrow scar on the man's neck.
Before Roland could answer, the old man pointed his pipe stem toward the stone building at the town's center.
Beneath its portico hung a flag emblazoned with crossed swords and axes.
"That's the Adventurer's Guild."
"Ah, thank you."
Roland nodded his thanks and led Black Wind toward the wooden post outside the guild's entrance.
Just as he was about to tether the horse, a fierce argument erupted from within the guild hall.
"Go piss in a mirror and see what you are! You think you're worthy of stealing my commissions?"
Before the words had even faded, the guild's heavy wooden doors were kicked open from the inside with a violent crash.
Immediately afterward, a tall, burly man tumbled out in a disheveled heap, rolling down the steps and landing in the muddy street.
A moment later, a towering brute nearly two meters tall strode through the doorway, cursing loudly. His gleaming bald head was covered in dark blue tattoos that glinted menacingly in the dim sunlight.
He stomped down the steps and kicked the man on the ground several more times until the man curled up and stopped moving. Only then did the bald giant spit contemptuously and straighten up, his eyes still burning with unsatisfied rage.
As the bald giant raised his head, his gaze swept contemptuously over Roland standing nearby.
But when his eyes fell on Black Wind beside Roland, those fierce eyes lit up abruptly, gradually filling with avarice.
(End of the Chapter)
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