George sighed, rubbing his forehead. He was glad that Jack had found his own way in the mercenary guild, and knowing that he would be satisfied with repairing items for the guild for now. By the time Terry returned, Jack would be well practised so that he could surprise the Smith with his abilities.

With his iron plate stamped with various information, he went to check the quest board to see what issues there were nearby. There were the typical threats, those of beasts, and then those of man. Bandits and outlaws, though they seemed the slippery sort. He’d need to spend much of his time planting himself into the seedier parts of the town before he dealt with such issues.

Jack was excited to hear that he could be a smith for the mercenary guild. Practising smithing was going to assist him in keeping his skills sharp. Plus, he could learn more about that sword he had bought.

“Here,” Don said, handing Jack a sword. It was a fairly typical sword though it did seem to have quite some wear and tear. There were a few chips in the sword which would quickly destroy the sword if they were allowed to remain.

Jack was led to a small forge at the guild. The guild, having no Smiths of their own, would not use Breath of Fire to light the forge, but some fine gem powder. Jack found some fine powdered metal and sprinkled it across the sword. He had seen Smith Kanders repair a sword before, though he had learnt it wasn’t as easy as it looked, and it didn’t look that easy either.

The room was hot, too hot, but a Smith wouldn’t be bothered by such heat. Jack allowed the metal powder to set within the blade before he struck with his hammer, falling into a rhythm. He was completely focused in his work, though there was a single thread of worry that he’d ruin the sword.

Hours passed by and he was finally finished with repairing and tempering the blade. He had used the smallest pinch of cobalt within the metal powder so the sword would be fine to use as though it was near new. If he was a greater Smith he’d be able to repair something as good as new, but for someone who was still at his level, this was more than decent.

Jack returned to the guild to see a handful of people around, glancing over at him as he appeared with his sweat covered body, his sleeves rolled up, and his hair like wet cloth which stuck down at his forehead. He looked to find Alice, who waved him over.

“Are you finished?” she asked, looking at the sword.

“Yes.”

She nodded and then opened the back room. “Don,” she called out and then the man appeared, throwing a look to Jack. Jack handed the sword over.

“Good job,” Don said, nodding his head once he had inspected the sword. He swung it a few times and smiled. “It’s been a while since I last saw her looking so good.”

“It’s your sword?” Jack asked.

“She,” he said. “Yes, she is. I received it when I became a guild worker here, and it’s been a few years. She’s seen a few beasts under her teeth, but I haven’t been able to use it for the past year.”

Jack scratched his chin. “I’m glad that the work is to your standard.”

“If you’re looking for work repairing items, you can stay here and we’ll pay you. Are you staying at an inn?” Don sheathed his blade and then rest a hand against the hilt.

“I am. I think I have a few more weeks paid, though.” He was certain that Sir Anthony had paid for a couple of months upfront when they had first arrived.

“Alright.” Don brushed his beard, narrowing his eyes. There was no need to take the boy away from the inn if it’s already paid for. “Stay there for now, but come around every morning. You’ll repair whatever items the adventurers leave behind.”

“Can I train here too?” Jack asked. He wanted to keep training to keep himself sharp. He was told by Sir Anthony to keep up with his training, and if he let up on training he may end up bringing shame to his family. Also, he had no interest in dying.

“I don’t see why not. If you’re a mercenary, you can use our facilities. Since you’re taking a step into being a guild worker, there are different rules, but you don’t have to worry about it so much.” Don waved his hand dismissively at the thought as though he didn’t want to handle it either. “You won’t be a formal guild worker, but we’ll treat you well.” The older man handed a small, rectangular iron plate to Jack.

It was cool to the touch and covered in all kinds of symbols. He eyed them up, noting that there were nearly a dozen of them, but couldn’t make heads or tails of the system. Seeing that he had no idea what any of it meant, he slipped the square plate away.

“You can start tomorrow morning,” Don said, nodding his head to the youngster. “We’ll pay you at the end of every day. We will pay less than market rate since since you’ll be using our forge and materials, but you’ll get to stay here and have two meals daily once you’ve arrived.”

“I’m not sure when Smith Terry will return, so I may not have the chance to stay at the guild.” Jack wasn’t sure if he’d be able to work at the guild for long, and didn’t want to just hit them with it.

“That’s alright. I’ll send word out tonight that the guild has someone able to repair weapons. Expect to be swamped in your work for the next week at least.” Don chuckled and then rubbed his chin. “It’s usually easier to get everything done at the guild so some adventurers leave various things to the guild even if they have to pay a little more.”

Jack smiled and nodded his head. “I understand.” He wasn’t entirely sure how the mercenary guild worked, but it seemed he’d have a nice job here if the worst came to pass.

“Oh, right,” Don said, recalling the form that Jack had filled out. “Make sure you pick someone for us to settle your affairs in case you meet your untimely demise.”

Jack stared up at Don, having not expected the man to say such a thing. “Oh…” He looked up to the ceiling to think for a moment. He supposed he really only had person who he would need to settle his affairs. “I’ll pick Chief Bloodwall then,” he said.

Don straightened up, raising his brows. “Hey now, we can’t put him down.”

“Why not?” Jack asked, tilting his head. He stared up at Don with a naivety that the man hadn’t had expected.

“It would be troublesome,” Don replied. “He’s the Chief of Bloodwall, we can’t just bother him about the death of you. There’s a limit to your nonsense, kid.” Don placed a hand on Jack’s sweaty head and ruffled his hair. “Just put down your father or mother. If you have no one, then put down a friend and where they live.”

“My mother is dead, but you just told me I couldn’t put down my father.” Jack frowned.

Don froze, midway through ruffling the boy’s head. “Excuse me?” he asked, unsure of whether or not he had heard the boy correctly.

“My father is Chief Bloodwall,” Jack stated firmly.

The mercenaries spit out their drinks. Even though they had looked as though they weren’t listening, each of them had actually been listening in. It was the skill of a mercenary to eavesdrop without getting caught, however, they hadn’t expected to hear such madness coming from the boy’s lips.

“Your father is Chief Bloodwall?” Don asked. “You know, you can get killed for saying something like that if it isn’t true.”

Jack puffed out his cheeks. “It’s true! He banished me, but I’m still his son by blood. He told me not to return until I become a smith.”

“…” Don looked to Alice, who had grown pale at listening to the boy.

The other mercenaries looked over to Jack now, sizing him up. They hadn’t expected him to say such nonsense. It was then the doors to the guild opened and in came stumbling George, who had a bottle in one hand, though he stopped when he noticed the atmosphere.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking between everyone.

“The kid says he’s the son of Chief Bloodwall,” a mercenary said, chuckling to himself. “He’s going to get himself killed.”

George looked over Jack casually. “The son of Chief Bloodwall?” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m not that drunk to believe him.” He laughed, but inwardly he was panicking. Why would he go and say such a thing within the guild? Did he have no sense of self preservation? This boy!

“Oh!” Jack said, reaching into his pocket and then taking out a letter bearing the sigil of Bloodwall.

Don took it and then read it. With each passing moment he realised that this boy wasn’t just any kid. He thought back to how the boy had so confidently stated what the Chief’s sword belt looked like. Even he, who had seen it a handful of times, had barely recalled it, but the boy’s description had been so vivid. Don handed the letter to Alice, who quickly read it.

“…”

“…”

“Very well,” Alice said. “You may write Chief Bloodwall’s name.”

The mercenaries spat out their drinks once again, staring at the boy.

“It can’t be, right?”

“This kid is really the Chief’s kid?”

George looked down at the bottle in his hand. He thought he was safe in leaving the boy here, but it seemed he’d need to stop drinking once again.