"Rise and shine, business awaits!" The driver, deep in slumber, was jolted awake by an impatient burly man with a couple of nudges. "Is your carriage headed to Reutlingen?" "Yes, currently with one passenger." "Seven people to Reutlingen. We leave now." "If we're traveling without rest, an additional five coppers per person, please." "Here! I'll give you ten coppers each, but we must go directly to Reutlingen." With a jingle of coins, the driver's sleepy eyes suddenly widened like an owl's.

"Just a moment, I'll switch to a better horse and prepare some provisions and water for the journey." "Hurry up! We're pressed for time." Sean, eager to fall asleep before hunger struck again, listened hazily to their conversation. "You should've alerted me sooner when someone approached. It's dangerous; they could easily have killed us if they meant harm!" Sean heard the driver whisper as he walked by, then felt the carriage sink slightly as a faint, delicate fragrance wafted through the air.

Fortune smiled on the driver tonight; his carriage, now full, set off into the night. The driver's words and the intermittent fragrance made sleep elusive for Sean, who sat rigidly, clutching his longbow. "A longbow? Are you English?" A curious voice suddenly inquired. Sean, feigning sleep, reluctantly opened his eyes. "No, sir. I'm Scottish," he replied, not wearing the traditional Scottish kilt.

"Black hair, ah, the color of night," came a pleasant voice. Sean shyly touched his somewhat disheveled hair, flattened by his cap, and looked towards the voice. "And black eyes too!" The crisp, melodious voice chimed in again. "So beautiful!" The captivating allure of those azure eyes, reminiscent of emerald jewels, instantly ensnared Sean's heart. "Hehe, such a naive country boy," the clear blue eyes shifted away, having caught Sean in a daze. "Kid, stop staring," a gentle pat on the shoulder brought Sean back to reality.

"So beautiful," Sean murmured inwardly, his head lowered. Despite the girl's ordinary traveler's attire, her lily-like elegance and those blue eyes had him utterly enchanted. The burly man beside him, friendly and flashing big white teeth from beneath his thick beard, patted Sean's shoulder, yet to Sean, such a smile always made him feel like a delectable loaf of white bread. "That's a longbow, isn't it?" "Yes, sir." "Such a rarity these days. Even the English scarcely use them now." "Is that true?" "Hahaha, don't you know? A real country bumpkin, huh! First time out?" "Yes." "Hehe, no wonder. You Englishmen used to be keen archers, now all focused on business." "Oh, is that so?"

In reality, the big man's mention of 'business' referred to mercenary work, but Sean misunderstood it as trading, and the man's confusion of Scots and English irked Sean. Though the big man appeared ordinary and lacked the ostentatious attire of mercenaries, his formidable aura and the Alans sword at his waist betrayed his profession. It seemed he and his companions were escorting the mesmerizing girl to Reutlingen. Under the sleepy stars of the night, the big man, still lively, engaged Sean in conversation, while his companion and the beautiful girl had long drifted into slumber.

"English longbows are self-made, right?" "Yes. But please don't lump Scots and English together." "Yours too? To a mercenary, everyone from that island is English." "Sorry, I need to sleep now!" "Hahaha, don't be mad, little Scot! May I see your longbow?" Sean handed over his longbow. The big man, in his seat, strenuously pulled the bow towards the sky. "Phew!" He exhaled heavily. "So tight!" "Hahaha, silly big guy, you're doing it all wrong. That way of drawing the bow can cause injury, be careful with your back!"

Perhaps amused by the big man's red-faced struggle, Sean laughed more openly for the first time. "This is how you draw a longbow!" Standing up on the swaying cart, Sean held the bow in his left hand, fingers of the right on the string, took a deep breath, extended his left arm forward, drew the bowstring to his ear with his right, and smiled down at the big man. "You must draw a longbow like this!" The big man seemed lost in thought, watching the steady boy pull the powerful bow with ease, maintaining the posture with surprisingly calm breathing.

"I've stumbled upon a treasure; I must recruit him," the big man resolved internally. "Alright, put it down now, I know how to draw it." He addressed Sean, still in the cramped space of the cart. "No! Each practice session should last thirty minutes." Sean's obstinacy amused the big man. "I'm Grant, what's your name?" "Sean." "Heading to Reutlingen to visit relatives?" "No, I'm going to the blacksmiths' guild to apprentice." Grant slowly extracted information from the naïve youth. "Do you like blacksmithing?" "No, it's our family trade!" "I hear Scots are skilled blacksmiths." "Of course, I'm even better." Sean's innocent eyes twinkled slyly, his confidence in his craft evident. "Still want to be an apprentice?" "I must. Without apprenticeship, I can't practice the trade." "Hehe, so you're not keen on it?" "No, I need to earn a lot. I'm so poor, I barely have money for food." "Oh, I see."

Realization dawned on Grant. "Yes," Sean nodded vigorously, affirming his statement. "Sean, join our mercenaries!" "Why?" "No apprentice fees, travel to great cities, see things you've never seen. More importantly, you'll earn a lot!" "Really?" "Of course, a common mercenary earns two gold coins a month, veterans eight. High-paying missions pay even more. Think about it." "That's a substantial income!" Sean was tempted by Grant's description of a mercenary's earnings. "And don't you want to broaden your horizons while earning? See new and wondrous things, avoid being called a country bumpkin?" Grant's smile held a mischievous glint. "Oh, let me think! How do I join?" Sean's interest was piqued by Grant's mention of 'country bumpkin'. "Once in Reutlingen, I'll get you to sign a contract." "Okay, I'll consider it."

Grant chuckled inwardly, confident he had persuaded Sean, then woke his companion. "Your turn to keep watch. Stay alert, don't doze off." "Got it, Grant!" "Grrr, grrr!" Sean's stomach suddenly rumbled, having chatted most of the night. "I'm hungry! You big beard kept me from sleeping!" Observing Sean's pitiable state, Grant and his freshly awakened companion handed him two rye bread loaves. "Eat up, then get some good sleep. Hehe."