Mastery Is Earned

On the second day after being brought back to Blackstone, Henk finally awoke from his deep sleep. The instant his eyes opened, his entire body tensed and his right hand reached instinctively for the weapon beside him. But his hand found only a soft bed. He was no longer in the bandits' camp, but in a clean, tidy room. Only after confirming there was no danger did he gradually relax.

“You're awake!” said a gentle voice, instantly putting him back on alert.

Henk turned his head and saw a full-figured woman approaching. The warning in his eyes startled her, but she forced herself to remain calm.

She picked up a bowl of warm meat stew and held it out to him. “Have some. You must be starving.”

Henk swallowed. After a moment's hesitation, he accepted the bowl from her. He took a sip. The broth was rich with the aroma of meat, and that one taste immediately awakened his appetite. He began gulping it down.

Broth ran from the corner of his mouth onto his bare chest. The woman handed him a clean cloth. Henk accepted it but did not wipe himself right away. He merely looked at her uncertainly.

He set down the bowl and studied her. Only after thinking for some time did he finally remember. She was probably one of the captives who had been held in the cave.

Henk struggled to remember how to express his gratitude. After a long pause, he stiffly forced out two words. “Thank you.” His pronunciation was imperfect, colored by a northern accent as well as his naturally deep, nasal voice. The words came out painfully stiff.

The woman merely smiled at him. “We're the ones who should be thanking you.”

One bowl of stew was nowhere near enough for Henk. He finished it in a few gulps and licked his lips, still wanting more. But the woman only said softly, “They said you shouldn't eat too much right now.” With that, she carried the empty bowl out of the room, leaving Henk alone, propped up on the bed in the spacious chamber.

Henk looked himself over, feeling ill at ease. Bandages covered wounds large and small across his body. His upper half was bare, and he wore nothing but a pair of shorts below.

He threw back the covers, stood, and stretched his limbs. His movements sent tearing pain through his wounds from time to time, but he paid it no mind. Pain like this meant little to him. Every scar would make him stronger.

An oversized linen shirt and a pair of trousers had been laid across the nearby table. He pulled them on. Though still somewhat tight, they fit far better than his previous clothes.

Bang!

The door was flung open. Henk turned to see a black-haired young man coming toward him, while a slightly overweight middle-aged man stood in the doorway.

He knew the black-haired young man. It was Raymond, whom he had met several times before. Henk had a particularly good impression of the little guy. Raymond had even fought beside him in the camp as they wiped out the bandits together.

“Henk! Why are you out of bed already? The physician said you need to rest for a few days.” Raymond hurried over to him.

Henk shook his head and said quietly, “Not used to lying down.”

“All right. Let me introduce you.” Raymond nodded and turned, only to find the plump middle-aged man still standing in the doorway. The man was studying Henk closely, seemingly trying to determine whether he still posed a threat.

Only then did he slowly enter the room. He adjusted his collar with great formality and straightened his back. “I am Marcus, the sheriff of Blackstone.”

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Henk glanced at him sidelong but said nothing. He had no desire to acknowledge the man. Marcus had clearly been deeply wary of him just moments earlier. Naturally, Henk was not about to start flattering him now. And what was a sheriff, anyway?

Hmph. Just one of a pack of useless nobles. Judging by his appearance, he probably wasted more food than most commoners had to eat. Henk had no fondness for someone like that.

The awkward silence left Marcus somewhat embarrassed, but fortunately Raymond reacted quickly. After giving Marcus a slight bow, Raymond told Henk, “Sheriff Marcus is here to commend us for what we did.”

“Commend?” Henk looked puzzled. He did not understand what the word meant.

Raymond hurriedly gestured with both hands. “A reward. Money!”

Only then did Henk's expression soften. His main reason for coming south was to earn money. Receiving a reward this time was an unexpected bonus.

Seeing Henk's expression finally ease, Marcus composed himself.

He cleared his throat and spoke solemnly. “This criminal organization has long been operating in Blackpine Forest and causing widespread unrest. Not only did they engage in prolonged smuggling and illegal arms dealing, but they also abducted and trafficked children and young women, gravely disrupting public order in our town. Under my command as sheriff, the two of you rescued the prisoners and eliminated the entire criminal organization, rendering a great service and making an important contribution to the safety of our town. In the name of the Blackstone Town Council, and on behalf of all residents of Blackstone and its surrounding villages, I extend our heartfelt gratitude to you both. Furthermore, funds will be allocated from the town treasury as your reward...”

The endless string of words left Henk utterly confused. He was already far from fluent in the Goldvale common tongue, and Marcus was delivering a mountain of official jargon on top of that. Henk understood even less. He seemed to have heard every word Marcus used, but once they were strung together, he had no idea what any of it meant.

“Meaning?” Henk looked at Raymond blankly.

Raymond remained silent. Instead of answering, he listened carefully to Marcus.

“We have completed a preliminary inventory of the camp's contents. The ledgers, lists of names, correspondence, and a small quantity of smuggled goods will remain in the custody of the town guard. We will also return property bearing clear identifying marks to its owners wherever possible.”

“The Town Council has set aside a portion of the unclaimed money and goods to cover the victims' medical care, food, clothing, and journeys home. The town will also provide temporary accommodation for those who currently have nowhere to go.”

“Some of the remaining goods no longer need to be held. You may select weapons, armor, and pelts from the inventory, and the rest can be sold for coin. This is the list we have compiled so far.”

Marcus reached inside his clothes, took out a list, and handed it to Raymond.

Raymond accepted it and passed it to Henk. “I can't read. Can you take a look?”

“Can't read either,” Henk replied, shaking his head firmly.

Raymond nodded in silence and put the list away. “I'll find someone else to check it.”

“If anything you select from the list is inconvenient for you to handle yourselves, I can sell it on your behalf. But if you want to sell quickly, you'll probably receive only sixty or seventy percent of its listed value,” Marcus said quietly.

Raymond shook his head, declining the offer. “I need to discuss that with Henk first. It isn't mine to decide alone.”

“Very well. If you change your mind, you can come to me at any time.” Marcus did not press the matter.

Marcus then produced a small cloth pouch and counted out coins as he spoke. “The original bounty posted by the town guard, the reward raised by the surrounding villages for the missing people, and the additional reward granted by the Town Council come to sixty silver coins in total.”

With that, Marcus placed sixty silver coins on the table.

Henk watched Raymond take six of the coins and press them into Marcus's hand. Marcus looked down at the six silver coins but did not put them in his pocket. He hesitated as though he meant to push them back, yet his fingers never quite let go.

“Sheriff Marcus, we could never have made it back to Blackstone without the town guard's support.” Raymond placed a hand over Marcus's.

Only then did Marcus close his fingers around the silver. “Then consider it money to buy the men drinks.”

He then told Henk and Raymond, “Everything available for collection is in the town guard's warehouse. You may go and make your selections at any time. Anything you can't handle for now may remain in storage a while longer.”

Only after Marcus left did Raymond look at Henk. “Leaving a cut for the person handling the transaction is customary in this line of work. I'll take it from my share.”

“No. I know this custom. We have the same rule where I come from.” Henk nodded. “We'll pay it together.”

“Then how about you take seventy percent of the remaining reward and whatever loot we receive later, while I take thirty? If it weren't for you...” Raymond looked at the coins before him.

But Henk cut him off. “No. Half each.”

“Half? But...”

“No but. Without you, I might be dead.” Henk grinned at Raymond.

“All right.” Raymond did not argue further.

Of the fifty-four silver coins left, Raymond and Henk each received twenty-seven.

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