18
The next stop for Andrew and Id was a leather shop. Many hunters lived in Nordburg even though they spent most of their time in the woods. In the leather shops on the city's Main street, the hunters could sell the hides at any time. Since the shops had their workshops for processing, purchases of hides and sales of leather products took place simultaneously. The store Andrew visited was relatively well priced for fur, and he had conducted business in the store on several occasions before. The clerk was nervous when Andrew and Id pulled out a bunch of saber-tooth tiger and black panther hides. The clerk remembered that Andrew had brought fur of barely damaged quality on prior occasions, but it was his first time to receive such a large amount of hides. The clerk had a lot more saber-tooth tiger and black panther hides in front of him than what he had seen during the past year.
It took quite a long time to examine the condition of the hides, but in the end, most of them were estimated to be of the highest quality. Andrew's swordcraft was so excellent that he only made small holes in the beasts’ chest, right above the heart, or cut the beasts’ necks with one stroke. Andrew received a heavy bag of gold coins.
"I gave you a generous price. Please come to our store again next time."
"Thank you."
Bored by the long inspection process, Andrew quickly stepped out of the leather goods street and headed for an inn. It was a shabby inn, but the beer on the first floor was superb, so Andrew often stopped by. As Andrew and Id sat in a large hall, a boy of Id's age approached and took their orders.
"What would you like?"
Andrew familiarly ordered some food and beer. The boy who took the order went to the kitchen, and Andrew said, looking at Id.
"I'll go to the Wizard Tower alone. It seems that some greedy fools have been following us.”
Id nodded silently. Id had already felt the eyes on them as they walked out of the leather shop. It was evident that the target of the greedy gaze was Andrew's gold coins.
“The path to the Wizard Tower is often quite vacant. The likelihood that they make their move on my way there is high, so you should wait for me here.”
Id nodded silently again. Despite Id's praiseworthy improvements in learning swordcraft during the last two years, he was still only a twelve-year-old boy. If they were confronted with robbers, Id was likely to be a burden to Andrew. Id was aware that Andrew deliberately came to the crowded inn downtown to leave him in a relatively safe place. Andrew smiled at Id's calm response.
"It's good that you pick up fast. After the meal, I'll drop by the blacksmith's and then visit the Wizard Tower. It won't be long before I come back. So long as you have my weapons, no one will easily pick a fight with you."
It was rare to pick a fight with an apprentice carrying his master's weapons for fear of the master’s wrath, but there were exceptions to everything.
"Don't worry about me. I have the sword you bought me today."
Id replied a little playfully. The food was brought out quickly, and surprisingly tasted just as good as the beer. Andrew, who, for the first time in a long while, had a satisfying meal, got up from his seat. Packing a longsword and a bag filled with gold coins, he left the rest of his luggage with Id, leaving the inn in a relaxed manner.
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Andrew stopped by the blacksmith’s to pay for Id’s sword and headed out of the busy downtown area to the Wizard Tower. All the while, he could feel the gazes that hungrily followed him. As the crowd grew scarce, Andrew went into a more deserted alley. He wanted to quickly take care of the pursuers and go to the Tower in peace. As predicted, Andrew soon found himself surrounded by dozens of men. Several footsteps were heard from the alley entrance he had passed by. Though surrounded, Andrew’s expression remained tranquil.
‘Now even third-rate thugs dare to attack an armored Knight in broad daylight. Nordburg’s security is even worse than I thought.’
Having clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction, Andrew unsheathed his sword. The thugs’ boss, Misha, was startled to see him draw his sword so smoothly. His facial expression was complicated. He had been tipped off by a source on the leather product street that the old man in front of him was carrying a fortune, but doubt started to cross his mind, as the realization that the man in front of him was a real Knight began to dawn on him. Fake Knights wearing chainmail and armor were a familiar sight in Nordburg, as many of them posed as Knights to intimidate others. Misha’s greed took over as the money outweighed the potential danger of the old man genuinely being a Knight, roaming the city by himself. However, Misha was aware that on the off-chance, the man before him genuinely was a bonafide Knight, he was a dead man.
Misha first sent his men to probe the old man’s sword skills. Those ordered by the boss approached Andrew. Four thugs, two from each side, rushed in, brandishing spiked maces and clubs. In a flash, four severed arms fell to the ground, weapons still tightly clenched in their hands, as Andrew finished swinging his sword in several small motions, combined with short refined steps allowing him to pass the four men unharmed. At that moment, Misha realized he had provoked the wrong person and attempted to flee right away. But Andrew was running straight towards him. Having noticed that it was too late to run away, Misha took out two daggers from his boots and threw them toward Andrew. Andrew swung his sword to strike down the daggers and continued to pass by Misha. In the next moment, Misha’s right arm fell to the ground.
“You have quite the nerve to attack a Knight.”
Grabbing his shoulder with his left hand, Misha knelt, groaning.
“Please forgive me. I was foolish and believed you were a fake Knight.”
Shaking his head, Andrew sheathed his sword.
“If you hurry to the temple, you may be able to attach the severed arm, though it’s going to cost a lot. The day you meet me again will be your last.”
Misha picked his severed arm, bowed to Andrew and hurried out of the alley. The others had already fled. Andrew continued towards the Wizard Tower at a rapid pace. Worried about Id, Andrew was in a hurry since he realized Nodburg’s security was even worse than he thought.
************
“Hey.”
Id turned his head to the voice heard right beside him. A strange man in his thirties was staring at Id. His face was red clearly displaying the drunken state he was in. Having seen the desire in the stranger’s blurry eyes, Id began to worry.
“Is something the matter?”
“I’m interested in your mace. Let me see it.”
Id’s face stiffened.
“No, you cannot. This mace belongs to my master. As an apprentice, I must risk my life to protect it. It’s not something a man like you can touch.”
“Master’s mace? Are you saying even a scrawny little kid like you is an apprentice? Bullshit. Give me the mace.”
Igor, a second-grade mercenary, was a greedy and short-tempered guy. He used a mace as his primary weapon. Igor noticed that Andrew’s mace, which was currently in Id’s possession, was a masterpiece made by a dwarven craftsman. His uninhibited desires were revealed in his drunken state. He had already caused trouble many times, even during missions, due to his drinking habits.
“Igoryok, stop it. The apprentice is carrying a shield with a crest.”
Boris, Igor’s former mercenary colleague, stopped him. He had quit his job as a mercenary and was working as a guard in Nordburg and had been drinking with Igor, an old colleague who hadn’t seen for a long time.
“That kind of shield can be found everywhere. Does it make sense for an apprentice to a real Knight to be alone in a tavern like this?”
Igor was adamant. He growled, glaring at Id again.
“I’m not asking you to give me the mace. I’m just going to take a look at it. Why not? Show me the mace while I’m still asking nicely.”
The pub became quiet in an instant. The eyes of the people drinking in the pub were gathered on the two figures. Ignoring those gazes, Igor said to Id.
“Are you going to wait for me to beat you up or to hand over the mace now?”
Id, who rose quietly from his seat with a calm complexion as he put his hand on the hilt of his sword, spoke:
“The weapon that my master entrusted to me is my life. I can’t give it to someone like you as long as I’m alive.”
“I guess I’ll just have to force you then!”
Shouting, Igor pulled out a mace of his own. His mace was dyed dark red after having been drowned in blood on the battlefields. As his opponent drew his weapon, Id also drew his own sword without hesitation.