Knowledge Test

In the Golden Valley Kingdom, literacy among commoners was not particularly high. Most people could barely write their own names, and that was considered decent enough.

People like Roland and Sean, who had attended church-sponsored parish schools for free as children, were already considered rare "educated men."

Yet even so, after studying the parchment for quite some time, neither of them could decipher its contents.

Roland's fingertips repeatedly traced the faded ink, and fine beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

After a long while, he could only barely piece together words like "Silverleaf Grass" and "Nightshade Vine."

As for the remaining long passages, he could not make heads or tails of them at all.

Since arriving in this world, this was the first time Roland had truly realized how important literacy was.

After all, the parchment looked ancient, and it had been deliberately sewn into the lining of the leather armor. No matter how he looked at it, it had to be something valuable.

"Forget it, mate. Looking at these damned words is giving me a headache."

Sean flopped down onto the ground like a loaf of bread soaked through by rainwater, waving a hand weakly.

"You keep it for now. If it were given to me, I probably still wouldn't figure out what's written on it even after a lifetime."

Roland did not refuse.

The two checked their surroundings once more. After confirming that nothing had been overlooked, they turned and headed out of the woods.

Nothing else happened along the way, and they reached the manor safely before noon.

"Mate, when I'm not around, make sure you stay safe. If anything happens, go find my father or Uncle Peyton. I told them before I left, and also—"

Sean rambled on for quite a while, like a nagging old mother, before finally shutting his mouth.

After waving goodbye reluctantly, he continued down the road.

Watching Sean's figure gradually fade into the distance, Roland took a deep breath and turned to enter the manor gates.

After skillfully hiding his belongings in a concealed spot, he hurried toward the Blacksmith shop.

The moment he crossed the threshold, Roland immediately noticed dozens of eyes pinning themselves onto him. One gaze in particular was especially piercing.

Following it, he saw Marco glaring at him viciously. His freckled face was twisted with rage, his teeth grinding together.

"How is this bastard completely unharmed?"

The knuckles of Marco's hand clenched around a pair of tongs turned faintly white.

"Did that useless Sam take the money and fail to do the job?"

Roland took in all that malice, and it confirmed his suspicions.

Heh. So it really was this guy who sent someone after me!

After sneering inwardly, Roland calmly looked around and suddenly realized that more than half the apprentices in the Blacksmith shop were gone.

There was not much time left until Hawk's appointed gathering time. This meant that, like Sean, many had given up on the assessment two months from now.

Most of those who stayed are blacksmiths' children...

His gaze passed over several youths whose forging skills were roughly on par with Marco's and only slightly below his own. Roland's heart tightened, and the ease brought by his vacation vanished instantly.

"Stop what you're doing!"

A booming voice arrived before its owner did.

With his hands behind his back, Hawk strode into the Blacksmith shop and stopped before everyone.

He gave Roland a slight nod, then said in a deep voice.

"Before the break, I told you that today I would be testing your knowledge."

The old blacksmith brought his hands from behind his back and unfolded the cheap sheet made of birch bark and linen cloth.

The dense writing on it made Roland's scalp tingle.

"Now, come forward one by one and read aloud what is written on this cloth!"

Time crawled by amid the oppressive atmosphere, and before anyone realized it, dusk had quietly shrouded the land.

Roland stood among a group of equally dejected apprentices, his head lowered and shoulders slightly slumped.

Thunderous scolding echoed through the Blacksmith shop, making everyone's eardrums tremble.

On the other side, Marco and the others who had passed the test were lowering their heads to snicker, occasionally exchanging gleeful looks.

Hawk's face was red, veins bulging on his thick neck as the cloth sheet in his hand rustled under his grip.

"You blockheads! You can't even understand the most basic contract clauses. How are you supposed to negotiate business with trade caravans in the future? How are you supposed to calculate ore prices?"

He slammed the cloth onto the nearby anvil with a dull smack.

Several apprentices flinched, burying their heads even lower.

"Look at what it says here! 'If the delivered goods fail to meet the standard, compensation equal to twice the deposit shall be required.' Such a simple sentence, yet you read it in stammers! You can't even recognize the word 'compensation' properly!"

He sneered, his eyes sweeping over the group.

"With your level of skill, even a vegetable-selling woman on the street could swindle every last coin from you!"

"Trash like you still wants to make something of yourselves in blacksmithing? You might as well get lost and farm!"

The Blacksmith shop fell completely silent, leaving only the occasional crackle of the furnace fire.

Hawk panted heavily, his chest heaving as though he wanted to vent every bit of fury that had built up inside him.

Just then, a somewhat mild voice suddenly spoke.

"Mister Hawk, do... do you need me to step aside?"

"No, Mister Bronson. You've come at just the right time."

Hawk suppressed his anger and growled.

"You idiots! Raise your heads! This is Mister Bronson, the teacher responsible for teaching you knowledge!"

Upon hearing those words, Roland looked up.

Beside Hawk stood a tall but exceptionally thin man.

He looked to be around thirty, his back hunched, while his loose gray robe made his frame seem even more frail.

His long fingers anxiously tugged at his messy brown hair, and his gaze remained lowered.

Whenever Hawk raised his voice, he instinctively shrank farther into the shadows like a startled quail.

When they saw what the newcomer looked like, several nearby youths immediately began whispering among themselves.

"This guy is fit to be our teacher?"

"What? You know him?"

"My uncle said he seems to have come from the Royal Capital. Like a beggar, he kept chasing after noble lords for some kind of research funding, begging all the way from the Royal Capital to here..."

The Royal Capital? Research funding?

Those somewhat unfamiliar words entered Roland's ears.

But he did not pay them much attention.

All he could think about right now was how to master more words as quickly as possible.

Marco and his group had already passed the Knowledge Test and could now focus entirely on honing their forging skills, while he still had to divide his attention to learning how to read.

This brief gap in time might allow those blacksmiths' children, who had grown up with hammers in their hands, to catch up to him—or even surpass him in forging skill.

And I still need to train my strength and transfer to Blacksmith... Tch. The Blacksmith Apprentice assessment starts in two months. It feels like there isn't enough time.

Just as his thoughts ran wild, a sharp sound abruptly interrupted him.

"Shut up, all of you!"

Hawk clapped his hands forcefully, the dull applause echoing through the Blacksmith shop.

"I'm giving you one month."

The old blacksmith's voice was as forceful as a hammer striking an anvil.

"Anyone who still cannot pass the Knowledge Test after that can pack up and get out! Do you understand?"