noveltune Chapter 12 A nerve-wracking unboxing experience
Chapter 12 A nerve-wracking unboxing experience
Broken Po Village
As dawn broke, the morning mist still clung to the damp, cold air of East Lake, and even the wind carried a biting chill.
Aunt Slin was already standing in front of the "Three Musketeers Blacksmith Shop" where Rogge and his two companions worked.
Two heavy baskets were placed by the door. One basket had fresh, tender water plants at the bottom and plump, clean mussels neatly arranged on top. In the other basket lay several fat freshwater fish.
The wooden door was tightly shut. Aunt Silin paced back and forth outside, feeling cold, her fingers twisting her muddy apron. She raised her hand several times to knock, but held back, blaming herself for arriving too early.
Aunt Silin felt a mix of emotions, a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, which is why she arrived at the blacksmith's shop early.
To make this sword, three months' worth of smoked fish were used up, and a lot of our savings were emptied.
In her view, she had undoubtedly spent a lot of money to buy a "luxury item," and if she won the gamble, her son would be able to stand tall in the militia.
She has been thinking about it constantly these past few days, just waiting for today to deliver the goods on schedule.
Ever since she handed the materials to Roger and his two young men, she hadn't felt at ease.
She did all this without her son's knowledge, entrusting most of her family's wealth to Roger and his two brothers.
The outcome is unpredictable. If she succeeds, all will be well; if she fails, she won't be able to sleep at night.
Fortunately, she had seen the skills of Roger and his two companions before. A few days ago, the farm tools and hoes that Roger and his companions repaired for the villagers were quite impressive, and were indeed sharper and more durable than before.
Repairing and patching up a weapon are two completely different things from forging a complete weapon.
According to Aunt Silin, this order was the first official weapons order since their blacksmith shop opened!
She had never seen anything decent or good in her life. In her eyes, a good knife shouldn't be easily dulled, right?
It's a rare and excellent knife, capable of swiftly slicing smoked fish.
Old Kui, her next-door neighbor, was a member of the militia, just like her son.
Old Kui had an iron sword that he treasured like his lifeblood. Every day when he passed by her house, he would hunch over and hug the scabbard with both hands, afraid of bumping or damaging it.
The wild boar fat they usually saved up was something even their own people couldn't bear to eat; they all used it to maintain the sword.
According to his son Gis, in the militia camp, old Quina would never let his sword clash with anyone else's!
Even so, Old Kui would boast to people every day that his sword was one of the best in the entire Duanpo Village.
……
As the morning mist dissipated, Aunt Silin waited outside the door for nearly half an hour before the door panels of the wooden blacksmith's shop were finally dismantled piece by piece from the inside.
Rogge rubbed his sleepy eyes, and before he could even see who was at the door, Aunt Slin spoke first, her voice filled with barely suppressed urgency:
"Finally, you opened the door! I thought you were going to sleep until the sun was high in the sky!"
A smile spread across her face, and she playfully scolded him as she picked up two baskets, pushed past Roger, and went straight into the house.
She skillfully placed two baskets of fish on the wooden table in the house where they were cooking, her movements showing that she was even more familiar with the food than Roger was with the kitchen.
"They were just caught from the lake yesterday, and they're so plump! There are only two of us at home, and it would be such a waste if we just left them to spoil. I'm bringing you some to try."
That's what she said, but her eyes were never idle; they were searching everywhere.
Roger chuckled at her anxious expression.
"Auntie Slin, you've been waiting for a long time, haven't you? Why didn't you knock? Look how cold you are..."
As Roger spoke, he took out a ceramic pot containing hot water that had been kept warm inside the furnace and poured a bowl of still-warm water for Aunt Slin.
He knew, of course, that today was the day he had arranged to deliver the goods to Aunt Slin.
He handed warm water to Aunt Slin, and without further ado, Roger pulled out a long, brand-new wooden box from under the table. The box was specially made by the village carpenter; it was polished smooth, carved with simple patterns, and looked quite exquisite.
Under Roger's guidance, Gold and his colleague still possessed some professional ethics, adhering to the business philosophy of respecting customers' expectations and that even the worst products should be packaged exquisitely...
Gently lifting the lid of the box, the longsword was found in a brand-new, unbleached wooden scabbard. The sword was carefully stored away. Roger picked it up and examined it again before handing it to Aunt Slin.
"This is what you wanted."
"Rogge, this... is the longsword I entrusted to you to forge?"
"Yes." Roger nodded.
"How's the quality of this sword? I don't want it if it chipps or dulls easily!"
Aunt Slin made a prior statement, her tone full of unease, but her eyes were fixed on the longsword.
She held the sword, weighed it in her hands, and frowned. She couldn't see anything; the sword wasn't the heavy, solid thing she had imagined.
In her mind, the better the weapon, the heavier and more solid it should be, like the one from Old Kui's family.
Seeing the puzzled look on Aunt Slin's face, Roger didn't explain and reached out to take it.
"Auntie Slin, how about I try it on you and you see if it suits you?"
No sooner had he finished speaking than Roger drew his longsword. A flash of cold light appeared before Aunt Slin's eyes, and before she could react, Roger slashed down at the wooden strip about the thickness of a forearm on the edge of the table.
Without much noise, the wooden strip was easily cut, and the upper half fell to the ground.
Aunt Slin stared in disbelief, her face turning pale with fright. Before Roger could even sheath his sword, she snatched it away, examining the blade from all angles. She couldn't stop complaining about Roger:
"My little darling, how could you bear to use it to chop firewood! What if you ruin it?! My iron is so expensive!"
……
It took a lot of comforting to stop Aunt Slin's nagging. Roger wiped the sweat from his forehead, thinking that he should not be so impulsive again in the future.
At Roger's prompting, Aunt Slinn began to carefully examine the sword in her hand.
The blade was as smooth as new, without a single chip or scratch, let alone any chipping or chipping. The texture of the sword was extremely fine. The more she looked at it, the more she liked it and the more satisfied she became. The wrinkles on her face turned into chrysanthemums as she smiled.
Looking at Aunt Slin's expression, Roger was reminded of the feeling when he unboxed his new machine...
"Aunt Slin, this is the only sword we have, nothing else. Is it to your liking?"
"If it's not suitable, we'll have to forge it again for you!"
Aunt Slin was stunned for a moment. When she came to her senses, she sheathed the longsword and hugged it to her chest as if it were a rare treasure.
"I want it! I'll take this one!"
After saying goodbye to Roger and the other two, she walked along the road, feeling both happy and angry.
What pleased her most was the sword's sharpness and sturdiness; she doubted she could find another weapon as good as it in the entire village, far exceeding her expectations! Crucially, the sword's design was also beautiful…
What angered me was Roger's act of chopping wood with the sword. He didn't know how to cherish it. Such a good sword, he just chopped wood like that. He didn't care about others' feelings.
"These brats! They don't know how to cherish other people's things!"
He strode back home, only to find his son, Gis, already out on patrol.
Instead of going out to work as usual, she carefully placed the longsword in the inner room and waited for her son to return in the yard, mending fishing nets in her hands, while keeping her ears perked up to listen to the sounds outside.
Time passed slowly, and as noon approached, Aunt Silin had carefully prepared several large bowls of food for her son: a bowl full of stewed fish, a bowl of wild vegetable and oatmeal porridge, and a bowl of stewed wild boar meat until tender...
She traded three baskets of fresh fish with an old hunter in the village for the wild boar meat. They might only get to eat it a few times a year. After getting it, she stewed the whole thing...
Her home had little furniture, and the pieces looked old and dilapidated, clearly indicating that almost all of her daily expenses went towards feeding her growing son...
Thanks to her hard work and the abundant fishery resources of East Lake, even though her family's savings were almost gone, Aunt Silin did not reduce Jisi's food intake.
She believes, "The fishing areas and mudflats are there; as long as you're willing to work hard, you won't go hungry!"
Aunt Silin walked to the door and looked outside. Usually, Gis would be home by this time, but today, Gis was unusually late.
She waited patiently, and as the sun neared sunset, Gis finally returned.
Gis strode into the courtyard, and Aunt Slin immediately noticed that half of his linen jacket was torn, there were some bruises on the corners of his mouth, a red mark on his neck, his brows were furrowed, and his whole body exuded an uncontrollable ferocity.
As soon as he entered the courtyard, he slammed the thick wooden stick in his hand against the corner of the wall, then walked silently toward his room.
"Gis, what's wrong?"
Who did you get so angry with that you even got hurt?!
……