Chapter 22: Horim

"It's ... It's an armory isn't it?"

Rohan was somewhat stunned by this turn of events.

With Delia, they had chatted for a good part of the day. Well, chatting meant here that one was in an external monologue while the other bored, made an internal one.

After this discussion, Delia proudly told him that he knew perfectly who to ask to find a place to stay and have money.

Sure, that viscount's son could have just hired him as a guard or whatever, but he knew Rohan wouldn't like that, with the way he had asked him for help. He wanted to go incognito and draw attention to himself as little as possible, and that, Delia had understood.

So the two took a cart pulled by two horses with the Noir family crest on it before arriving in front of this place.

One thing that should be noted was the absence of noise. They had sunk into a corner of the city in the middle of alleys wide enough to allow a single cart to pass. And only a few individuals could be seen from time to time.

In front of them was a large building of gray stone, two stories high and a larger of tens of meters. To his left was a crossroads while on the right was another house, stuck to the building.

There was a sign above the front door: a simple hammer and an anvil. After all, apart from nobles and other special cases, few people could read. So, it was pretty clear what the function of this building was, but Rohan felt compelled to express a doubt.

"Absolutely !" Delia answered him with a smile on his face. "The blacksmith inside is from the Empire of the Holy Goddess. I don't really know his story, but let's say that at one point he needed to flee his homeland. And it turns out to be me who brought him back here! He'll take you without a problem, so you'll have your home and money. I'm awesome, aren't I? "

"Delia." Rohan had started calling him by his first name since he was doing the same. He rubbed his temples to try to understand what was going on in the mind of this man. "You suspect I do not know about forging, metals, or whatever, right? What do you want me to do in this place?"

Delia, as if he was not listening at all, walked past and took the initiative to enter the building. Having no other choice for the moment, Rohan resigned himself with a sigh and entered after him.

The interior was that of a basic armory. Weapons of all types hung on the walls. Swords, one or two hands. Sabers, with straight or curved blades. Axes, with one or two blades. Spears, short or long. Shields, in wood or steel. Maces, with or without pikes. There were all the weapons a person could look for.

On the racks located on the sides, there were heaps of swords, obviously of lesser quality than the ones on the wall.

Leather armor sets could be seen on one side, while no heavy steel armor was visible: the resources needed to make this one were too great.

A wooden counter stood towards the back of the room, with a few weapons resting on it. Across the counter, a single weapon was hung on the wall.

A sword. Even at this distance, Rohan could tell it was a masterpiece. It was a double-edged blade, with writings inscribed in the middle. He couldn't tell what kind of languages ​​they were, as he had never seen it before.

The hilt of the weapon was golden in color and slightly curved, while the pommel resembled a dragon's head, still in that gold color.

As Rohan and Delia walked into the room, faint banging metal sounds began to be heard. These came from behind one of the two closed doors that stood behind the counter, on either side of the magnificent and imposing sword.

"Still forging, this one." Delia's murmurs entered Rohan's ears as they made their way to the door. He tilted his head to the side, staring curiously at the person walking in front of him.

He was a blacksmith, wasn't it normal for him to spend his time forging?

As Delia squeaked open the door, the sound of metal against metal suddenly grew much louder, as if this simple wooden door could diminish the sound of the interior.

Behind the opening was a stone staircase that seemed to descend into the depths of the earth. No light illuminated this passage, so the two visitors stepped forward, stomping with their feet in the dark.

The further they advanced, the louder the hammer on the anvil resonated in the passage, making Rohan frown. Even Delia's monologue was more tolerable than this.

Finally, Delia opened the next door with another creak, followed by a burst of light that chased the darkness, and a large room appeared in front of Rohan. A breathtaking heat wave entered Rohan's lungs as he inhaled, forcing him to cough.

In this room several meters deep, a forge had been set up. A large hearth fire settled against the back wall in which a crackling flame was burning, while a chimney was embedded in the wall, presumably throwing the smoke out.

In front of this hearth-fire were anvils, while on the side a large table contained various tools. Hammers, pincers, and other tools Rohan couldn't recognize.

In a corner of the room were various piles of metals, steel, iron, shot, and the like, while swords lay carelessly on the floor, abandoned to their fate.

And in the center of the room, standing behind one of the anvils, a hammer in his right hand and a pincer holding a piece of reddened metal in the other, a middle-aged man was continually banging the metal in front of him as sparks burst with each stroke.

Delia picked up a pebble from the ground, and before Rohan could react, threw it at the man.

The hammer hung in the air for a moment, before the sweat-soaked man looked up from his work. His black hair and beard were peppered with dust, and his sharp gaze, shrouded in wrinkles from squinting too much, was fixed on Delia's.

"Ho? Young master Delia, do you need some things?" The man had a deep voice, a little gruff, and seemed slightly annoyed to be interrupted.

"Horim, in return for the debt you owe me, I want you to take care of Rohan as an apprentice. Pay him, feed him and give him a place to sleep. In return he will work for you, what is it? what do you think? " Delia stood there, his hands behind her back like he owned this place.

Rohan had a dumbfounded expression on his face. It was strange to be there, as a spectator, when someone was selling him as if he was an animal.

Horim the blacksmith, meanwhile, frowned before letting out a sonorous sigh. For the first time since the start of the conversation, he turned his gaze to the young man behind Delia.

He no longer had his armor chipped, and he no longer looked like a beggar who had lived in the forest for three years. A simple sword was at his hip, over a black robe.

It wasn't really that he liked black, but it was that other colors bothered him. He had therefore asked for this color when Delia had inquired about it in his home.

As their eyes met, Rohan thought he felt a tingling sensation in his eyes for a few seconds, then nothing, as if it was only his imagination. Their gaze separated and the blacksmith spoke to the viscount's son.

"I can't really refuse you young Master Delia." With that, he put his hammer on the anvil and rubbed his hands on his leather apron as he approached. "I do indeed owe you a favor, so I accept." He stopped right in front of Rohan, a happy smile on his face. Happy, but clearly forced.

"Very good! Perfect! Well I would like to stay for a while, but I have to do so I'll let you get to know each other!" He turned to Rohan playfully. "Don't forget to come from time to time, Rohan, you will always be welcome at the estate!"

"Thanks, I'll think about it."

"..."

As Delia was leaving, the most intense silence engulfed the room. Then the sound of footsteps on the stairs faded to let in the distant sound of the door opening, before closing.

Suddenly, the smile on Horim's face faded, and with uncommon speed, he grabbed Rohan by the throat before he had time to do anything.

What was going on? What did this blacksmith want!?

"Noble asshole." Rohan was now lifted into the air as his throat was crushed by extraordinary force. "I can see it in your pitiful eyes that you killed!" Horim's muffled voice filled the room as his tone grew more and more dangerous. "Who was it, you fucker? Your maid who wouldn't let it go? A villager you didn't like? Did you have fun, you dirty motherfucker?"

Rohan couldn't breathe, no matter how hard he tried to struggle, there was nothing he could do. A gray veil descended on the world, covering all the colors of the room. Black dots appeared and disappeared from his sight.

No!

He mustn't pass out, he tried to get rid of these black spots, but there was nothing he could do. A rage began to rise in him. The moron in front of him was going to kill him for nothing. But there was nothing he could do. And finally, he passed out.

Horim widened his eyes in surprise. He let go of the young man who collapsed to the ground like a rag and looked down at his hand.

There, fine cuts could be seen. It was nothing, a scratch from a cat would have had the same effect. But Horim himself was stunned by this sight.

All the professions that use mana in this world share the same problems. This was also the case with Horim who was a paladin.

Everyone could feel the mana around them, but no one could see it. Most importantly, no one could manipulate mana outside of their body.

Of course, you could open your skin pores to absorb mana to become a warrior, for example, but it was only when the mana entered the body that it could be manipulated by someone.

When one became an advanced warrior, one could use the aura and "control" the ambient mana. But it was all a hoax. The principle of the aura was in fact to use its own mana, to mix it with the one around you to control a greater quantity.

But he had felt it. He had no doubts about what had happened. And that was what made his heartbeat incredibly fast.

This young man, collapsed in front of him, could control mana that did not belong to him.