"Your decision is set in stone it seems," Enosh stood straight, looking at me, "For your eyes speaks of determination. Hmm, curious… No matter, here are the tools you will use to survive."
The old-man pointed at the series of boxes on top of the metal table.
"Open them."
Before those words could be uttered, I was already in front of the crates. I heard Enosh snort, and I shook my head. Opening the first crate, I see something shiny on top of fine cloth.
A sword of furnished metal lay before me.
I gulped.
Grabbing the sword, I brought it up in the air to inspect it. The steel was unblemished but I could tell how durable it is just from the feeling of the hilt and gut feeling. Staring blankly at it for a second, I turned to my father.
"It is a sword forged by the Vulcan smiths. " He starts, his eyes look at the blade also, "Made from unalloyed metal from the trenches of the Shifting valley. Aside from its durability, "The old man went over and flick his finger on the flat end of the blade, "It's no special sword."
The glint of the sword reflects on Enosh's monocle.
Vulcan's Smith?...
The dwarves? This… is crazy. While my father it's a normal sword, being made by Dwarves already elevates it to a higher level.
I looked at him, and Enosh coughed.
"A smith from the guild owes me a favor, so instead of letting it wait, why not use it when the occasion calls for it? Again, this is my grace, boy. Do not gawk at simple decency."
"Move on to the next crate."
I followed and opened.
This box is full of vials and herbs neatly arranged. It smells of the earth, sky, and ocean.
"These are mid-tier potions brewed from my acquaintances over Morgana. All of them give a boost and strength and stamina, but most importantly healing. Do make sure not to use all of, or lose, them. The brewer will know."
"Those boxes over there, " he pointed at the smaller crates, "Contain a map and compass alongside money."
"Really?" I inquired.
"Yes. For you will not only be exiled of the estate but also the whole governance. Meaning you cannot stay in Valor for long for a certain time, this clause will be invalid once 3 months have passed. Again, do make sure not to spend it on your vices."
"Sigh," Damn, that's harsh, but at least he's saying it outright.
As for the final crate, I went over and opened it.
Chain and leather armor.
"This is from Master at Arms, the good people of that guild were kind enough to uphold my inconvenient request to make you a customized armor."
I held the chest piece in the air and looked at it. While it looks flimsy, the leather feels and looks dense, not to mention the chainmail on top of it.
"This set favors agility and movement, as I know you cannot sustain a fight, being able to move is your best shot. If you were to encounter dangerous escalations."
Again.
This old man is not what I thought.
Enosh turned away and looked at the wheat field on the horizon, "You could leave after high-noon. As of the moment you could prepare, eat, bathe, whatever you deem necessary for your survival."
After that, Enosh walked away and entered the estate, leaving me here – holding the piece of armor custom made for me.
…
..
"Have you heard…"
"What?"
"The young master is being exiled by the lord."
"Really?!"
"Be silent, he might hear you know… and yes, it's true. He's leaving today, could you believe it?"
"Finally!..."
"It's really happening."
The murmuring of the servants is not unheard by me, not even when the sound of clanking chains layered over noise.
It's clear they're glad of my departure, and they're justified and rightful to do so. Roland had done nothing but terrorize and harass his servants, treating them lower than farm animals. More so playthings than actually people.
There was once an incident where Roland took a female maid…
It's best that I don't think about it.
Reaching the exit, I step foot outside with all my gear put on. The leather chest plate, forearm guards, shoulder plate, gloves, hip and leg protection – alongside sturdy boots. All that was given to me by Enosh's grace I took and wore, in both gratitude and confusion.
Waiting outside was my father in question, standing besides the estate guard Romani.
"You're done," I nodded.
Enosh turned behind to look at the shore of the forest. His eyes are distant, and face stoic.
"Beyond this gate is a point of no return. Once you cross it, you will forsake the name Silver. From this day forward, you are Roland the Vagabond. The exile. The disgraceful former son of Enosh."He paused. "Do you accept these terms?"
I drew a breath. Held it.
Then released.
"Yes. I agree.
Enosh closed his eyes and said, "Romani, if you will."
Without ceremony, the guardsman took a gourd filled with water and poured it on my head. It was cold, but the faint trace of spring could be discerned.
"You are now relinquished."
The sun moves from the center, and the breeze shifts to a more cold temperature.
I walked out.
And didn't look back.
…
…
"My lord, could I speak?"
"You already did, "Enosh jest, making the guard sweat, "But do go on."
"The young master feels different."
"In what way, Romani?" Enosh asked, though there was no tone of questioning.
"His eyes are more solid, cemented, "Romani began, recalling the brat that is Romani, "His gaze was more of that wayward, distant and aimless, going by the day. But today, the young master, no, Roland, is more fixated."
Enosh didn't react, his face didn't even budge but his eyes dulled a bit.
"I did notice too, it reminds me of when he was young." Enosh sighs, and Romani passes a sad gaze, "I do hope he will look with that gaze more, from today onwards."
....
...
..
.
End of Prologue.