Translator: CinderTL
"Uncle Peyton!"
Recognizing the approaching figure, Roland waved enthusiastically.
He hadn't seen Peyton since the kobold attack on their village.
However, the old mercenary had often served as Sean's scribe when they exchanged letters.
Those letters, besides Sean's heartfelt concerns and updates on his life, always included Peyton's witty banter and playful remarks.
Though they hadn't met in person for a long time, their bond remained as strong as ever.
"Heavenly Father..."
The twilight had obscured the figure's features, but as the tall silhouette dismounted and drew closer, Peyton was so startled that he dropped the wheat stalk he'd been chewing.
He vividly remembered their first meeting half a year ago, when Roland had been as frail as a reed, seemingly on the verge of snapping in the wind.
But now...
The old mercenary squinted, scrutinizing Roland from head to toe until he confirmed those familiar facial features. Then, he clapped Roland heavily on the shoulder with his rough hand.
"You little rascal! Did you swallow a troll's heart or something? You've grown so..."
Peyton gestured to their nearly equal heights, shaking his head in amazement.
"You're almost as tall as me now!"
Faced with Peyton's exaggerated antics, Roland simply offered a warm smile, offering no further explanation before asking, "Uncle Peyton, why did you wait for me outside town?"
"That's all thanks to that brat Sean!" Peyton grabbed the reins from Roland's hand, leading him toward town while grumbling incessantly. "He heard you were coming a few days ago and insisted I wait at the town entrance, claiming you might get lost. Ha!"
He rolled his eyes dramatically. "I told him, 'How could a strapping young man like you get lost?' But the stubborn kid wouldn't let it go."
As he spoke, Peyton perfectly mimicked Sean's shameless persistence, making Roland burst out laughing.
Slapping the old mercenary on the shoulder, Roland asked, "By the way, where's Sean? Ever since he became Lord Beckham's personal guard, he's been bragging about it in every letter. I almost stopped reading them for a while!"
"That kid?" Peyton scoffed, shaking his head.
"He spends all day at the military camp, practically sleeping at Lord Beckham's feet! Anyone would think that lord was some peerless beauty!"
As they joked, the two men arrived at the town gate.
In contrast to the tense atmosphere of Pine Wood Town, the guards at Mist Creek Town, though heavily armed, seemed much more relaxed. After a brief inspection, they were allowed to enter.
The streets were paved with neatly arranged cobblestones, their horses' hooves clattering crisply against the stone.
On either side of the road stood staggered rows of wooden and stone houses, their second-story windowsills overflowing with blooming flowers and drying herbs.
The clang of the blacksmith's hammer mingled with the fragrant aroma of freshly baked bread from the bakery. A copper sign hung outside the inn, gleaming brightly in the sunlight.
Due to its proximity to the Black Cedar Forest, the town also saw its share of adventurers and mercenaries, each equipped with varying gear. Most of them sat quietly in tavern corners or stocked up on supplies at the general store.
A group of children burst out of an alley, laughing and nearly colliding with Roland's horse. They scattered at Peyton's feigned stern glare.
Patrolling guards, their armor gleaming, marched steadily through the marketplace.
An old woman with a basket of medicinal herbs haggled with the butcher, the air thick with the aroma of smoked meat and fresh rosemary.
"Lord Beckham seems to be governing effectively," Roland remarked, surveying the scene. "This place is even more peaceful than I imagined."
Peyton snorted. "That old grump may have a foul temper, but he knows his stuff. Come on, let's check out Gary's new tavern. Sean should be finishing his shift soon."
With that, Peyton led Roland to a tavern.
An oak sign hung above the entrance, carved with the words "Forest's Breath." Sunlight filtered through the flowerpots on the windowsill, casting dappled shadows across the dark brown wooden door.
Two benches stood beside the entrance, where several patrons leisurely sipped ale, their laughter mingling with the smoke curling from the chimney.
After tethering Black Wind to a wooden post outside, Peyton strode forward and kicked open the tavern door.
"Gary! Look who I brought!"
Gary was about to curse the damage to his newly installed door when his eyes lit up at the sight of Roland.
"You're... Roland?"
Though Gary had only met Roland a few times, the young man—his son's closest friend, far more sensible than his own troublemaking boy, and capable of slaying powerful demonic beasts—had left a deep impression on him.
"Good boy, you've grown so much in such a short time."
Unlike Peyton, Gary didn't comment much on Roland's newly muscular physique.
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Gary went outside to hang up the "Closed" sign before turning back into the kitchen.
Soon, an enticing aroma began to waft from the kitchen.
As Gary cooked, he barked orders at Peyton.
"Peyton, stop standing around like an idiot! Come help prepare the ingredients!"
"Old man! I'm not your tavern boy!"
"If you don't want to work, get out there and earn some money!"
"Then pay me back for renovating your tavern first!"
"Dream on!"
The noisy banter made Roland unconsciously smile.
Compared to the rigid, rule-bound life at the manor, this lively, casual atmosphere felt particularly relaxing.
Before long, a series of fragrant dishes were brought to the table.
While the main course remained the usual boiled beans and dark bread, the side dishes featured tender, flavorful stewed meat, instantly whetting Roland's appetite after growing tired of the manor's monotonous meals.
Just as the final wild vegetable salad was being served, heavy footsteps suddenly echoed outside the door.
"Dad!"
With a creak of the wooden door, a familiar voice boomed into the room.
"Dad! Why are you back so early today, Roland?"
Sean rubbed his eyes vigorously, then gasped and rushed to the table, scrutinizing his long-lost best friend as if he were some rare creature.
"Y-you're..."
Staring at Roland, who now towered over him, Sean was too stunned to speak coherently.
After a long moment, the earnest young man plopped down beside Roland and thumped his muscular arm.
"Looks like the blacksmith apprentice's meals are treating you well!" he roared with laughter. "With a build like that, who'd dare mess with you now?"
Noticing the pride in Sean's eyes, Roland shook his head helplessly and began to study his dear friend in turn.
Sean hadn't changed drastically since their parting, but subtle differences were evident everywhere. His frame had filled out, his once pale skin now tanned and gleaming, and his hands were calloused and weathered.
The most striking change was in his expression. The youthful innocence had vanished, replaced by a steady, resolute gaze.
"Ha!"
Before Roland could reply, Peyton, who was sitting beside them, gulped down a mouthful of wine and let out a satisfied burp.
"Who'd dare bully this kid? He's more likely to bully others!"
"Damn it, Peyton!" Gary roared, his voice filled with anguish as he spotted the wine bottle in Peyton's hand. "That's the most expensive wine in the shop!"
"Of course! Otherwise, would I be drinking it?"
"You bastard!"
Watching the two bicker, Roland and Sean exchanged amused glances.
The dinner ended in a lively and warm atmosphere.
"Oof!" Sean groaned dramatically, collapsing heavily onto the bed. Roland took the opportunity to survey the room. Compared to the cramped, crowded hut in their village, Sean's current quarters felt remarkably spacious and bright.
"You have no idea," Sean said, rubbing his stomach, "how strict Lord Beckham's training is." Though he complained, his eyes sparkled with barely concealed excitement and pride.
After a few more minutes of idle chatter, they lay side by side on the bed, just like old times.
"By the way, Roland..."
Sean suddenly turned to face Roland.
"What brings you here this time? Did Master Hawk actually give you a day off?"
Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Well, it makes sense. A master would naturally take special care of a prodigy like you."
"Don't talk nonsense," Roland said, waving his hand dismissively, cutting off Sean's teasing. He gazed up at the pristine, flat ceiling and slowly said, "Actually, I came mainly to say goodbye."
(End of the Chapter)