Well, what a fantastic morning!

..I mean dozens of villagers died and processed the day before, and I became an opressed victim just because I survived and all.. but hey I woke up the next day and no one killed me in my sleep! That alone deserves a commendation, especially when I've became public enemy No.1 after that ordeal.

But come on people! I did my best!

..At running..

Anyways, tidying myself once again, I wore my harness(a layer of utility belts that's underneath the iron plates of the cuirass) above my cotton shirt and my usual leather pants with iron greaves.

Stretching around my well rested body, the intense sense of soreness that burned at my muscles had dissapeared. Instead, it's replaced by various bruises, from tiny to small, all over my upper body that's caused by the hailstorm of shoes and rocks that I've endured yesterday.

At least I felt worse from the previously burning muscles, so I can't complain much.

Inspecting my battle gear that was kept aside, I filter out the damaged equipment from the rest.

*

(clang clang clang)

Damn, I never payed attention to my stuff after that battle, huh.

My breastplate and backplate, obviously,both have a huge hule at the lower portion of it. My shoulerplates and armguards are either bent or battered into undesireable state. My entire cuirass is almost done for at this state.. I should just have it scrapped and remade into something new, and better.

Hmm... My prized longsword.. The edge has chipped, and the entire blade is slightly bent to one side. The grip of my longsword that was braided with leather strips for better grip has worn off. The strip is completely tattered and it looks like it would fall apart at moment's notice.

And the colouration is odd, no..? Oh of course, the entire hilt(part of sword that isn't sharp or pointy) of my sword.. is stained with blood. I completely forgotten about the huuuge gashes on my palms before this. I.. I'm so curious though..

*sniff* *sniff*

"BLERGH!"

I should've not smelled it.

Tossing all the damaged armour parts into a rucksack, and wrapping my out-of-service longsword with some rough cloth, I held it close and walked out of my hut.

*

Hah!

I must've been transformed after the battle and the commotion I received yesterday. No one bothered to come near me, anywhere I've been people either cower away or avoid eye contact at any costs.

It's sad to see those sad cunts ignoring logic to antagonise me, but restrained by their fear of God.

Or maybe.. I think I've became a Parisian, that's why everyone thats non-fracais hates me.

I remember visiting Paris in the Francois Empire when I was a child, the residents are utter crap. Having conversation with those French kids makes my brain urging me to commit suicide. I swear, if they were to jump from their egos to their intelligence, it would resemble falling into the abyss.

Perhaps an air of arrogance rose as I am swaggering around the place, waving my pride in front of their faces.. like a true Parisian!

Sacre bleu!

HONHONHONHONHON. (laughs in baguette)

Ahem, anyways I'll have to visit Andrzej.. and then meet the blacksmith.

Soon, I arrived at the front door of his home.

*knock knock*

A voice rose from within the shelter. "Come in."

*creak* I opened the door and hopped in.

In front of me, was no doubt a messy cave as a primitive's dwelling. Arrays of simple furniture are left lumbering everywhere in the hut. They were anywhere but the optimal position, even if judged by a child. The drawers that were bent sideways are opened and empty. Bottles and food scraps like bones are lying everywhere on the floor. The entire place reeks of liquor and bitter, crushed herbs.

"Hail, old man! Ain't dead yet I see!" I yelled

"Please! As if something like that can shake me at all." Andrzej replied.

Really? Are you really?!

At the corner of the hut, there's a sturdy looking bed carved from solid wood. A guy is lying on top of it. Arms resting on his stomach, with his entire chest bandaged with layers of cloth, and smothered with various herbs to help staunch the blood flow.

By no means that this dude is "not shaken at all" physically.

"And I ain't old! I barely left my 30s, I am in the peak of my age, learn your facts before you speak, cunt!" He retorted loudly, in a cheerful manner.

"Doesn't mean you can disrespect your superior, old man."

"Apologies, Captain Cunt!" He yelled gleefully, acting completely opposite of his age.

Well, if he's able to joke around, he knows it's not a dire state he's in.

"I'll have your broken stuff scrapped and reforged by Olguz."

While talking, I paced around his home, collecting bits & pieces of his armour and weapon. His halberd has seen worst action, the wooden pole literally cracked into 3, the pike was cleanly snapped in, while the axeblade bent left and right, making it a rather potent mace instead, to be honest.

"Sure, have it your way." He said with a somber tone.

"I know it's hard to part with your old weapon, but tools are meant to be broken, remade, and replaced." I replied.

"yeah yeah.." He had to accept the truth, right?

(clank clank)

Finishing the process, I head out once again. Before closing the door, a voice rang behind me.

"Oi! Keep the door open, air's stuffy here!"

"Sure! Make sure you don't get a stroke, old man!" I answered.

"Aye Cunt!" He retorted.

Geez, I left the door open and walked out. Leaving him alone. I won't know what else to add in if I lingered anyway, we both already understood the situation, it's best to not bring it out again.

Passing by the church, en route to the village center, where the smithy resides.

I could still see many people lingering around the graves, mourning their freshly killed children or friends. Numerous times I caught sharp gazes stabbing me, which came from those ignorant folk, especially elderly.

Luckily, they kept it at that. No one walked up to me and shivved me in the gut, yaay~!

Power of religion is truly scary~ I suppose.

*

Beside the fortified warehouse, in the centre of the village, a smithy was erected few paces beside it.

(clang clang clang)

The sounds of metal striking filled the air as I neared it, contributing to the noises of our bustling epicentre of the village.

The smithy itself was open air, with a shoddy straw roof overshadowing it, tied into several wooden beams raised as pillars, it could be easily dismantled and replaced when the need arises. The forge itself was a ring of bricks, keeping a good amount of coal and retains its heat within the forge. An anvil made of purely iron was situated right beside it. Seeing it's fair share of searing spikes of heat and cold, parts of it were tempered naturally and mixed with some impurities from the hammered metals, forming hardened iron(or some kind of steel).

A grindstone and workbench are place in opposite of the forge and anvil, allowing the smith himself the pace around in the middle of the open space, where he marvels the peasants time and time again with his creations.

In front of the forge, sat Olguz. This old man has a short and stout body build, yet his bared upper body was ripped with muscles, telling me that this guy ain't a wallflower, and he knows his trade. Focused on his craft, he couldn't recognize my presence.

"Hail, Olguz!" I spoke to him.

"Hail, Gerard. How are you?" He turned back and replied.

"Good.. anyways, I'm here to have you fix up our gear. Y'know, Except for Jarek, all of our stuff are forcefully retired. We need it fixed quickly if something were to invade us again." I explained to him my motive, casually evading my share of troubles.

"Of course! I'll get it done right after this!"

"Thanks." I reply halfheartedly. Honestly, replacing our gear isn't a request, it's a demand.

"Oh, Gerard! Check out the metal plates on my workbench, they're from that super goblin. It's particularly interesting I say." He pointed out towards his back.

Holding the curved metal plates with my hands, these things are the remnants of the armguard that I've struck insistently back then, which deformed enough to make the Rider shed it. Many holes are poked on the borders of each plate, definitely for the leather straps.

The toning and refractive index from those metal plates are rather odd, unlike any armour plates of mine. They're bloody thick too, as much as a thumb's length (3 cm/1 inch). each piece bears a certain weight, a single armguard of this Rider could weigh as much as a full plate armour. Knowing this fact, it made my heart shudder more, I can't bear to imagine the strength needed for this freak to equip multiple armour plates as thick as this!

"Damn.." I muttered under my breath.

"I know right? Plus the leather straps were actually raw leather bundled up. They're beyond processing and will definitely stink up after being stained by moisture and dirt from the ground." Olguz replied nonchalantly.

*

Olguz then examined our gear, I could see him cringing, which made my heart shudder once more. Even a skilled smith does not feel assertive about the condition of our battle gear.

"Hell! These scrap metals are beyond saving. I'll just melt it down and make it from scratch!" Olguz exclaimed, without hesitation.

"Well, just remake my cuirass as is, and also upgrade the plating while you're at it." I requested.

"Sure, I can do that.. how 'bout your longsword?"

Remembering the desperate state that I've once been through, my longsword can't do a thing to slash heavy armour. I had to upgrade it's piercing potential..

"Melt it down and reforge. I want it to have a narrow stark yes? and also a shallower fuller, for better stabbing and piercing." I gave Olguz the best visualisation possible.

"Ah! Gerard wants an Estoc eh? Consider it done!" The smith gladly received the order.

What's an Estoc?? Whatever. If it fits my requirement, I should place complete faith onto my lord and saviour~ Blacksmith-sama~ [weeb much?]

Seeing Olguz immersing himself towards his craft. His dumped all the parts I provided into the forge, melting them into fire-hot juice and casted it into various ingots, going to have them reforged later into armour plates.

My longsword, being still in one piece (literally), he removed the objects from the hilt, leaving only the entire blade intact. He heated it until it's bright red, and started hammering away, chiseling the raw, damaged piece into art. Slowly, a blade befitting my requirements slowly took shape, a slender blade body, with the blade getting narrower on its way up until a needle thin tip. A completely straight blade with a wide guard, specifically designed to riposte heavy attacks and pierce armour.

Well, whatever an Estoc is, it's definitely awesome.

(clang clang clang clang)

Watching Olguz working away, I kept thinking of better ways of improving my fighting style.

Hmm.. A thrust weapon, sacrifices my control and attack angles for better balance. I need something else to compliment it, for better defense..

Fidgeting with the thick-arse plates on the workbench, my eyes squinted, imagining the possibilities.

Then, my face brightened.

"Oi! Olguz!" I yelled in sudden.

"Yeah?" He turned back, stopping his work on forging my Estoc.

"Say.." I spoke slowly, while holding up the heavy plates stacked up with my hands, directing it towards him.

"Can you turn these into a shield?" I spoke in a cheeky tone.

Like a moth drawn into flame, a tempting offer that seduces its victim. Olguz stared intently at my arms and its contents. His eyes swaying to and fro, imagination within reality, and vice versa. Contemplating the options, obviously my offer had invoked his stubborn craftsmen's pride.

"Ohohoho.. boi!" Olguz chuckled.

He stared at me with an affirming gaze, his eyes too shone brightly, like the embers sparking out of his red hot forge.

"Don't you test me!" He roared with a firm, rough voice.

We both gave each other a warm smirk, hinting a start of something interesting, and ambitious.