TOPWL 93

“Surprising. I thought you’d say something like ‘isn’t there a way we can get along with them?’ all soft and sentimental.”

At Khalid’s teasing, Yudit shot him a sharp glare and replied dryly.

“My responsibility is to protect the people in this district.”

Hearing that, Khalid gave him a satisfied smile.

“So you’ve grown up a little.”

“Getting bitten by a goblin really clears your head.”

“Next time, try growing without getting bitten.”

Yudit’s gaze drifted toward the ridge lined with bare winter trees.

“Then, is there anything I can do to help aside from joining the hunting party?”

“Well… how about finding a decent weapon shop? There are a lot of forges around here, so there’s bound to be one or two decent ones.”

At Khalid’s suggestion, something flashed through Yudit’s mind.

“If that’s the case, I know a good place.”

The place Yudit took him to was the same weapon shop Brown had once led him to. Coming back to it now, the visit felt oddly nostalgic.

“This is it.”

Shane didn’t seem too thrilled to see Yudit return, but with Khalid present—and Yudit looking more confident—he didn’t stop them. As the carriage came to a halt, Khalid stepped out first and extended a hand to help Yudit down. Taking his escort, Yudit followed him into the shop.

The exterior was still shabby, nearly collapsing, while the inside was crammed with weapons and armor. A strong, sour smell of leather filled the air. Khalid grimaced and pinched his nose.

“This place could use some ventilation. You’ll get sick breathing this in.”

“It wasn’t this bad before… maybe it’s because of the cold,” Yudit said with a sheepish smile. Though in truth, it had always been like this. He cracked the door open slightly and stepped further in.

Khalid looked around at the mountain of weapons and clicked his tongue. He ran a hand over a sharpened axe head, then examined a stiff leather cuirass with a skeptical eye. After circling the shop once, he finally spoke.

“The owner of this shop must be a tasteless, eccentric old pervert.”

Yudit bit his lip to keep from laughing—Khalid’s brutal assessment wasn’t entirely off-base.

“They’re at least in their 50s. A man.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He knows how to sharpen a blade but not how to organize. His wife probably handled that, and she must’ve left not too long ago.”

As Khalid lifted one bow, several others clattered down from the pile. He pointed at a neatly arranged set of arrowheads at the very bottom.

“See? There’s some dust, but it’s tidy underneath.”

Yudit found himself quietly impressed by Khalid’s deduction.

“You’re really good at that.”

“Just a habit from work. You’ve probably got something similar. When someone approaches, you can tell if it’s genuine goodwill or something else. Clothes and expressions matter, sure—but someone’s house or shop? That is their life.”

“…I think I understand what you mean.”

Khalid whistled low at a mounted hunting trophy—what looked to be a troll’s head.

“Now that’s impressive.”

“You might want to breathe through your mouth in this room,” Yudit warned seriously, recalling the time he’d nearly thrown up. Right then, a noisy commotion came from outside, and the door burst open.

“Huh? Customers? The door’s open.”

With a gust of freezing wind, a loud voice filled the room. Yudit turned his head—and was stunned to see four familiar faces: Huyan, Wadiram, Brown, and the shop owner himself.

Yudit blinked in surprise at the bizarre group. Wadiram beamed and rushed over to hug him.

“Yudit! I had a feeling you’d be here.”

As he was pulled into the embrace, Yudit blinked again. Behind Wadiram, Huyan gave a polite bow.

The shop owner, just as Khalid predicted, was a man in his early 50s. Unkempt hair, clearly wearing one of his own handmade leather vests—and eyes that sparkled strangely.

“Oh-ho! Looks like we’ve got customers.”

He grinned, revealing a few missing teeth. Behind him stood Brown, jaw practically on the floor.

“Am I… dreaming right now?”

Brown, a blacksmith missing one arm—whose life dream was to succeed at farming and marry off his son—stared at Yudit with an expression like he’d seen a ghost. Slowly, he lifted his one remaining hand and slapped himself hard. The sharp smack echoed. Realizing it wasn’t a dream, Brown immediately dropped to his knees on the dusty, unswept floor.

“Y-Your Majesty! You’re alive! I—I’m so glad!”

Yudit gave a bitter smile. He had no idea where to begin correcting Brown’s outburst. When he glanced to the side, he saw Khalid watching the scene with arms crossed, clearly amused.

“I’m so deeply honored and happy. Ever since… ever since that day, I haven’t had a single peaceful night of sleep.”

“If you keep calling me Your Majesty, we might both get arrested…”

At that, Brown’s eyes went wide with panic. Yudit suddenly felt the urge to rescue this poor man from his floundering.

“Just call me ‘milord’ or something.”

“A-as you command, milord…!”

“Where on earth did he learn to speak like that?” Yudit wondered as Brown glanced at him nervously and spoke again.

“And… please forgive my rudeness from that day…!”

“You didn’t know who I was back then. There’s nothing to forgive.”

At Yudit’s words, Brown’s lips trembled, and then he burst into tears like a child. His hollow cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes made it clear he’d been through a lot. Yudit started to feel a little guilty.

“I… I thought Your Highness was dead… and I felt it was my fault…”

He kept muttering more through his sobs, but it was hard to make out. Khalid leaned in and whispered in Yudit’s ear knowingly.

“This the place you were bitten by a goblin?”

“Yeah. Just outside, actually.”

“And yet you were willing to come back here?”

“I wanted to introduce you to a good shop.”

Khalid sighed at Yudit’s earnest response.

“You the owner of this place?”

“Y-yes, I am…” The shopkeeper, clearly intimidated by Khalid, nodded anxiously.

“I’d like to discuss weapons and armor.”

“Please, step inside.” The shopkeeper’s eyes gleamed—recognizing the chance to make a sale—and he hurriedly offered to guide him in.

Before following, Khalid looked back at Yudit and said,

“Keep chatting. I’ll find my way out. You can go ahead without me.”

“Alright.”

As Khalid disappeared into the back, the heavy air seemed to lift. What a presence, Yudit thought.

He turned to Huyan and Wadiram.

“How did you two end up here?”

“Didn’t Your Highness send us that carriage?” Wadiram grinned brightly.

“When we got to the inn, they said you were out doing rounds, so we looked around. Saw a fancy carriage out front and figured—might as well check it out.”

Wadiram puffed his chest out like he wanted to be praised. Yudit glanced out the window at the carriage. Made from polished ebony wood, it certainly wasn’t something you’d see just anywhere.

“Impressive. I’m really starting to be surprised by your deductive skills today.”

While saying that, Yudit noticed Brown still standing there, dazed. He clapped his hands.

“Oh right—there was something I meant to give you.”

At those words, Brown—who had just calmed down—started trembling all over again. As Yudit rummaged through his bag, Brown braced himself and declared:

“Whatever milord gives, I will gladly accept it. Just… just spare my son. Let me bear it all myself—”

“Here. Take this.”

Yudit handed him a bundle of papers. Brown stared, bewildered, and Yudit tilted his head.

“Don’t tell me… you can’t read?”

“N-no, I can! I can read!”

Relieved, Yudit nodded. The bundle came from a book he’d borrowed from Aldrich’s house—Principles of Farming. He could’ve just loaned it, but since all of Aldrich’s books were technically banned texts, Yudit had decided to rewrite parts of it by hand, reorganizing and paraphrasing the content so it wouldn’t raise suspicion.

“You said you wanted to farm, right? I happened upon a book written by someone who successfully cultivated barren land. I jotted down a few notes to help you.”

Brown stared at him in disbelief. Yudit had said “a few notes,” but the bundle was over twenty pages thick—filled top to bottom with small, clear writing.

“Y-you… wrote all this yourself?”

“Yes. I used block letters so you’d be able to read it. My cursive is absolutely terrible.”

Yudit gave a sheepish smile. Every letter on the pages was meticulously written in neat print. In fact, many commoners struggled with the cursive scripts nobles used—especially the royal family, whose writing often included traces of archaic language. There was no way Brown could’ve deciphered that.

As he stared down at the pages, Brown’s eyes began to well with tears again.