Menu no.4 - Hugo Bronzoweild

Alisa led me through a narrow stone path that curled behind the bustling guild hall. The further we walked, the quieter it became; the chatter of adventurers faded into the distance, replaced by the rhythmic clang of metal striking metal. Each sharp note echoed like a heartbeat, steady and strong.

“Okay, we are arrive.”

Alisa whispered, gesturing to a modest stone house tucked against the back wall of the guild. Smoke rose faintly from a small chimney, carrying it with burnt coal and hot steel.

I swallowed hard. My palms were damp with sweat.

Kazuha’s words still rang in my head—“Don’t get on Hugo Bronzoweild’s bad side. He was once a merciless man on the battlefield.”  The warning looped in my mind with every step closer to the door.

Alisa raised her hand and knocked twice.

The clang of hammering stopped. Heavy footsteps approached from inside. The door creaked open, and a tall, broad-shouldered man appeared, his apron darkened with soot, a heavy hammer still dangling from his hand. His presence filled the doorway like a looming shadow.

“Ah, Alisa, . . .” the man rumbled. His voice was deep, like gravel grinding together. Then his eyes shifted to me, sharp and assessing. “This must be the boy you spoke of.”

Without waiting for my reply, he stepped aside. 

“Come in.”

The interior smelled of iron and ash, the air warm from the forge still glowing faintly in the corner. Weapons lined the walls—blades, shields, even a few half-forged spears resting against an anvil. I tried not to stare, but the gleam of sharpened steel pulled at my gaze.

Alisa motioned for me to sit. I shuffled toward a wooden chair, my legs stiff with nervousness, and lowered myself onto it as carefully as though it might break beneath me.

The man set aside the hammer, then dragged over another chair and sat directly across from me. He reached for a longsword resting nearby, its edge freshly sharpened, and placed it beside him. The gesture wasn’t threatening—but God! the silent weight of the weapon’s presence pressed on me nonetheless.

For a long moment, he said nothing . . .  Instead, he stroked his mustache, long and heavy enough to nearly cover his mouth. His eyes—sharp, keen, like a hawk’s—never left me. Finally, he leaned back, a small smile ghosting across his lips. 

“So. You’re the stranger from the altar. Tell me—what can you do?”

Alisa cleared her throat, quickly stepping in. 

“Ehm ehm, Master Hugo, . . . he has only just arrived on this town this morning. He still adapting. But, yes he said he is willing to work for you. I believe he could be useful for the guild.”

I bit my lip, then spoke up, voice uncertain. 

“I . . .  I don’t know anything about sharpening swords or handling weapons. I’ve never done anything like that.”

Hugo arched a brow. 

“Then what skills do you have? You must have one or two useful skill.”

My throat felt dry, but I forced myself to answer. 

“Ba-Back home, I worked . . .  in cafés. As a barista. I served drinks—mainly coffee. Sometimes food. I also worked part-time as a waiter, helping in kitchens.”

“Barista?” Hugo repeated the word slowly, as though testing its weight. He frowned, puzzled. “What manner of craft is that? I never heard the 'barista job' before.”

My hand make a gesture of pouring a drink “A barista is someone who prepares coffee—a kind of drink.”

He blinked at me. “A drink? so like a liqour. And that is considered a skill?”

I could see Alisa suppressed a small smile. I couldn’t tell whether she was amused or worried.

“Ye-yes It is, . . . ” I insisted, perhaps too quickly. “It takes precision, timing, care in preparation, it requires skill to become a barista.”

Mr.Hugo chuckled—a low, rumbling sound that seemed to shake the table. He stroked his mustache again, then gave a short nod. 

“Interesting. Very interesting. Unfortunately, I have no shortage of workers to serve food or drink here. What I lack . . . ” His eyes narrowed slightly. “ . . . is someone who can sharpen blades. Our adventurers dull their weapons faster than I can keep up with. That is where I need help.”

The words sank like a stone in my stomach. I lowered my gaze. Looks like i have to find other place to find a job.

Silence hung between us. I feared he might turn me away entirely.

Suddenly Mr.Hugo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“Still, I’ll not cast you out on the street. You can begin by running food and drink in the guild hall. Perhaps you’ll learn something useful in time. And who knows? Maybe you can find a job like barista on another day.”

Relief washed over me so suddenly I nearly sagged in my chair. 

“Re-really? Thank you, Mr.Hugo! Truly.”

He grunted in response, as if dismissing my gratitude.

“That is more generous than I expected, Master Hugo.” Alisa said

Hugo studied me for a long while, then gave a single, decisive nod. 

“Very well. You’ll work here by tomorrow. But understand this—idleness will not be tolerated. Hard work is the key to success.”

“I understand.”

Satisfied, he leaned back, crossing his arms. “Good! Then rest tonight. Tomorrow, your duties begin.”

Alisa let out a small smile.

The night air was cool when Alisa and I stepped back outside. The faint glow of lanterns lit the guild hall in the distance.

I exhaled, tension finally spilling from my shoulders. “He’s . . . not as terrifying as Kazuha said.”

Alisa chuckled lightly. “He has a stern face, yes. But Master Hugo has his kindness too—buried deep under soot and steel.”

We walked together toward the guild hall. Before we parted, Alisa pressed something small into my hand. I looked down. A pouch of coins.

My eyes widened. “What’s this?”

Her smile softened. “Tiara gave you some of her allowance. She asked me to cover your rent for now. Don’t tell the others—especially Kazuha. He will be pissed if he know she gave their money to other party.”

I stood frozen, overwhelmed by a mixture of gratitude and shame. “She… she really didn’t have to.”

“Well, She wanted to,” Alisa said gently. “She believes in you . . .  We both do.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The weight of their trust pressed heavier than any sword.

“Thank you,” I whispered at last.

“Rest well,” Alisa said, turning back toward the guild. “Tomorrow will be busy.”

And then I was alone.

I stepped into the small room Hugo had lent me on the second floor. It was simple—just a bed, a small desk, and a single window overlooking the quiet street. I lay back, staring at the wooden ceiling, listening to the distant clang of Hugo’s hammer resuming at the forge.

Tomorrow, I would begin again. Well, . . .  not as a hero i dreamt. But tomorrow would be different.