Rakson sat at the head of the table. Even his chair was different from the others, with black flags hanging limply on either side. Rowan recognized what this round table gathering was the moment he saw those flags.
'It's the Black Flag Youth Association.'
Literally a meeting of the better-off members among those who provided labor for the village. In other words, it was a gathering of elite members, and the decisions made here would be passed down to the regular members of the youth association.
'Why the heck was I invited here?'
Rowan was a second son who wouldn't even inherit the ranch. He worked here and there for daily wages, but it wasn't anything special. Sometimes he even faced discrimination. That was especially true while learning swordsmanship from Rakson.
'Plenty of jerks treated me like crap because I was gonna leave anyway.'
In short, it made no sense for Rowan, who was treated worse than an average village youth, to be here.
From blacksmith Malrux to Geric, the butcher-hunter who handled both butchering and hunting, those with considerable influence among those active in Black Mountain Village sat at the round table.
"I called Rowan because he's good enough at fighting to be included this time."
"He's built like a goblin. Think he'll actually help?"
Geric sneered. Still, Rakson didn't flinch and said, "Why don't you spar with him yourself? I'll lend you a shield."
"Hmph."
Geric used traps and bows. He wasn't ignorant of a shield's advantages, and he knew well the disadvantages of bows. He snorted and ended the conversation. The others didn't really care.
They didn't have the luxury to pick on a 13-year-old kid.
"Now that our star's here, let's get down to business."
Blacksmith Malrux gulped down his drink and spoke.
"We've connected with the Silver Stick Merchant Guild, which our village always deals with. A mercenary group will be here by next week at the latest."
The moment mercenaries were mentioned, Rowan caught on. He realized this gathering was about goblin subjugation. His lips went dry.
'Damn it.'
He was learning swordsmanship from Rakson and working for daily wages all over the village. He couldn't escape this situation. He was still young and needed protection since he had to grow more.
Having learned the secret technique, Rakson seemed intent on having Rowan participate in the goblin subjugation. One more fighter was better than none. Eleven was better than ten. As a retired veteran and ranch owner, Rakson knew better than anyone the difference one person could make.
Rowan knew his position better than anyone, so he kept his mouth shut and observed the situation. Literally the attitude of a newcomer. Not running his mouth, checking his surroundings as much as possible, not sticking out.
The basics of survival in any hierarchy. How a greenhorn survives among rough men. In men's society, even if you're ugly, you get respect if you're competent. Even without competence, you can survive with just awareness and the sense to read the room.
"Should we reinforce the fence until the mercenaries arrive?"
"Checking where the goblins are hiding is dangerous, isn't it?"
"Gotta be one of the abandoned mines in the Black Mountains, obviously."
As they murmured among themselves, Rowan soaked up every bit of hidden information without missing anything. Having lived in the modern world with its flood of information, he had no idea what was valuable information and what wasn't, but he was damn good at sweeping up information.
He was different from the people of this world who lived on so little information, different in how he absorbed and simply organized it.
"Our job is to make the fence function properly and scout the village thoroughly. We need to re-erect the village palisade that fell and wasn't repaired."
"Oh boy."
"Ugh, those crazy logs..."
Everyone groaned at the mention of the palisade. There was a reason it hadn't been repaired. It was hard work, so they'd left it alone. In the ten-some years Rowan had lived here, there hadn't been a single monster invasion, so it was possible.
And it was this kind of place that Rakson had come to spend his old age. Also, because there was no one above him to mess with.
"We have to do it. From up there, we can tell for sure whether goblins are coming to the village or not. Especially at night!"
Rakson managed ten serfs and handled all sorts of tasks, practically playing village chief. No one could oppose him.
"The hunting dogs can't even hear goblins... my eyes are gonna fall out."
They complained, but the round table meeting that couldn't directly clash with Rakson was really just a place for Rakson's announcements.
"Rowan, you'll be the watchtower chief. Everyone's busy with their livelihoods, so there's no one but you. The wages will be generous, paid from the Black Flag Youth Association's dues."
Everyone agreed. That was also the reason Rowan could be here in the first place. Rowan was the one to take on the watchtower duty. Young as he was, but ambitious enough to master sword and shield, Rowan was the best card to use in this situation.
"You want me to be a watchman?"
Worse than a two-shift hell, literally having to live in the watchtower until the situation was resolved. That was being a watchman. A life worse than a modern factory. Literally a civilian soldier.
Rakson wet his lips.
'Sharp as always, this kid.'
While he was thinking that, Rowan was throwing out all kinds of excuses.
'This'll break me!'
"What would a kid like me know? I've never done watchtower duty before."
He cited a lack of experience first.
"I've never been responsible for anything, you're gonna get badly screwed."
He cited never being properly responsible for work.
"Aren't there plenty of other experienced people?"
He cited the presence of youth association members with superior careers third.
"But you learned Rakson's swordsmanship, right? Most guys would get their asses kicked."
At blacksmith Malrux's words, Geric said nothing. Even as proud as he was, he didn't want to do watchtower duty.
Like in a family-like small company where you have to touch everything, defense in this mountain village was best when one person took it all on. It was easier, and more than anything, it was for the convenience of the youth association officers who set such policies.
Rakson looked at Rowan and said, "Learning the sword is ultimately to leave the village and make something of yourself, right? Opportunities like this don't come often. If you do watchtower duty until the mercenaries arrive, I'll make sure you can join the subjugation with them. How about it?"
Real combat experience!
It was quite tempting for Rowan, who had never fought monsters in particular. It would be safe too, since an experienced and confident mercenary group was coming for goblin subjugation.
For Rowan, who had to escape this damn mountain village and make something of himself to secure at least a minimal retirement, it was an irresistible bait.
'The second son of a ranch.'
He wouldn't inherit anything, and at 16, they'd tell him to figure out food, clothing, and shelter on his own. It was real combat he'd experience anyway. Plus, Rowan had already taken down one goblin with a surprise attack.
'Do I really need Rakson's backing to join the mercenary group?'
With his skills, they might let him in. If a young kid just watched the rear well, it could make things a bit easier for the mercenary group. Or he could be a porter.
'Man, he's a smart one.'
Watching Rowan thinking all sorts of thoughts, before Rakson could get annoyed and open his mouth, Rowan nodded.
"I'll do it."
"No backing out."
The moment Rakson said that, laughter erupted from all around.
"You're dead now!"
"Thought watchtower duty was easy and jumped right on it, huh? Don't even talk about it. You're dead."
"Back in my day!"
"When I did it!"
It got noisy in an instant.
Starting the next day, Rowan went out with the village men belonging to the Black Flag Youth Association to repair the watchtower. The watchtower facing the Black Mountains was closest to the forest where the goblin who'd raided Rakson's food storage had come from.
'Can't let my guard down.'
Rowan steeled himself.
"Heave-ho! Yo-ho!"
The village men yelled. Behind them, a horse the size of an ox pulled a rope. As soon as one massive log barely went up, people rushed to fill the hole they'd dug below, tied it tightly with rope, pulled it taut, and drove stakes into four spots.
Thwack! Thwack! Smack!
The wooden hammer mercilessly pounded the wooden stakes.
They did that four times. Basically, replacing four logs that formed the foundation of the palisade. After doing one, they had to rest right away.
'Takes it outta you. Crazy logs.'
It had to be solid logs, so there was no choice. Without doing it this way, there was no one in this village who knew how to build a palisade. Such precious knowledge was only passed down through family lines.
"Rowan! I heard you're doing watchtower duty?"
During breaks, naturally, the main topic was Rowan's watchtower duty. Nothing was more fun than someone else's suffering. As they chattered on and on, Rowan shook his head and just lay down.
"I must be crazy."
You could say he'd been fooled by the guy, saying the experience alone made it worthwhile. But in another sense, it was okay to think he had more to get from Rakson later. Literally because Rowan had accepted Rakson's proposal.
'At least maybe he'll teach me more of the secret techniques he knows?'
The brutal palisade repair only finished when the sun set. The shabby palisade got a makeover. You had to climb 5 meters up a ladder, and above that were two more levels of the palisade, giving Rowan an incredible view. The top level was where you kept watch, and below that was where Rowan would live.
The toilet naturally had to be a bucket like an idiot, replaced morning, noon, and night. The bucket even had a lid to block the stench.
"I'm not used to bows though."
Rowan muttered as he received the bow.
"But you've at least practiced, right?"
He nodded at that.
Rowan had hoped archery would come naturally to him, but spectacularly failed. The result of dedicating money to Geric for a whole year was just the title of a third-rate archer. 'Even passing mutts shoot better than you,' that's what Geric always told him.
Practice didn't make it better. Rowan was pathologically terrible at distance sense regarding projectile trajectories.
'Meaning I can't hit anything unless I use ranged weapons like close-range ones.'
Literally dismal talent.
The good news was that arrows shot from high places had to be aimed downward anyway, and since they rode gravity's influence, Rowan's archery became pretty decent. Most of all, with the falling speed backing them, they became powerful and fast arrows.
Life in the watchtower was tedious and boring. Day after day of strength training and stretching in the watchtower continued.
Meanwhile, the village completed its defenses against goblins and collected money from villagers through a middleman to pay the mercenaries' commission.
A peaceful week passed.
As veteran Rakson predicted, the goblin seemed to be one hiding this village's existence for his own selfish greed, as no goblin appeared after that.
'It's the mercenary group.'
Though still pretty far from the watchtower, Rowan could see the mercenary group coming toward the village. There were quite a few of them. About thirty, which was considerable. Exactly three cargo wagons came into view.
Seeing something glinting, there seemed to be mercenaries wearing metal armor. Couldn't see the details because of the trees. Could be weapons.
'What kind of guys are mercenaries in this world?'
Mercenaries who beat down goblins and faced off against orcs. Living by the sword in a fantasy world seemed dangerous.
'Probably brutal guys, right?'
'Or maybe surprisingly well-disciplined.'
Either way, it seemed like something interesting had happened, and most importantly, he didn't have to do watchtower duty anymore. That anticipation could only be resolved in the evening.
"Why'd you come so late!"
"Sorry, sorry! First time seeing a mercenary group..."
Rowan genuinely got angry and yelled loudly. Having lived such a boring life that he practiced yelling, the volume he produced was tremendous. Sheepishly, the village youth just laughed and took over the shift.
Whoosh!
Rowan ran. Naturally, to see what the mercenaries looked like. No different from a child, but inside, he was different. Because he too would live by the sword. For a shabby mountain youth, it was unavoidable for retirement's sake.