In the midst of the Thirty Years' War, as it entered its Swedish phase within the Holy Roman Empire, our tale begins on an obscure knight's estate in the Duchy of Württemberg.

Atop a small hill outside the estate, the last rays of the setting sun lazily bathed the town below. "Ah! Time to head back!" Stretching languidly, Sean made his way towards the blacksmith's forge at the foot of the hill. As a relocated Highlander from Scotland, Sean's family was renowned in the village for their exceptional blacksmithing skills. After serving as a mercenary for over thirty years, old Sean settled here. Perhaps due to his extravagant youth, he didn't amass much savings, but luckily, every Scottish Highlander was a skilled blacksmith. Thus, old Sean managed a decent living, being the best blacksmith in the entire manor, always with customers at his door. However, times were tough for Sean now, as old Sean had passed away last year.

"Sean, it's time for you to venture out, to be an apprentice and learn advanced skills." Seeing Sean return, the blacksmith handed him five silver coins and a letter. "This is an introduction to the guildmaster of blacksmiths in Reutlingen. He will arrange a master for you. Learn well, surpass your father's skill." "Alright! I'll get ready and leave tomorrow." "Go on, take care of yourself, and watch your health, my child." "Yes, thank you." "Put away your things and tidy up! You don't need to help today." "Oh, got it."

Amid the constant clinking, the blacksmith resumed mending a bucket with three patches, a task already taking him two days and likely a few more. Sean, with his own skills, could have fixed such a hole in half a day. Sean quietly observed the kind blacksmith, who seemed unaware that Sean's skills had long surpassed his father's. Since the age of seven, old Sean had trained him in the traditional Highlander ways and imparted his exquisite metallurgical skills.

The next morning, while most of the estate still slept, Sean, with all his belongings in a small bundle, boarded an open carriage at the station. Glancing at his childhood home with no lingering attachment, he leaned against the cart's side and fell asleep, conserving energy as his meager purse meant he could only eat in the evening.

The journey from Sean's estate to Reutlingen was ten days, passing through three sizable towns, costing one silver for travel. Of Sean's five silver coins, four were for apprenticeship fees, with one left for travel and all other expenses. Hence, Sean secretly brought his longbow, planning to hunt for his meals and, if lucky, sell quality furs in the markets for some extra money.

The four-wheeled cart, pulled by a mediocre horse, slowly trudged along the mountainous road. The driver, doubling as a bodyguard, rested his rusted broadsword on his lap, sipping cheap spirits, leaving the old horse to its familiar path. "Care for a drink? Warms the body, kid." "Uh! No, no, thanks." Watching Sean, the driver chuckled, revealing uneven yellow teeth. Business was slow today, with Sean as his only passenger, hoping for more at the next town.

On his first long journey, Sean sat dutifully on the cart, amusing himself with the passing scenery. When hungry, he'd tune his bowstring or wipe dew from his arrows. The two, in their shabby state, didn't attract the attention of the highwaymen and opportunistic barons watching the road. The half-drunk driver soon fell asleep, his loud snores mingling with the horse's trotting. Bored and hungry, Sean finally arrived at the next town by evening.

The weary horse, familiar with the route, entered the station yard without guidance, stopping beside the building. Seeing the driver still asleep, Sean quietly hopped off, surveying his surroundings. The empty yard, like the vacant cart he rode in, left Sean shivering in the night breeze. "Grrr! Grrr!" His stomach growled again. "Damn! I'm starving!" Stretching his stiff arms, the inexperienced Sean cautiously stepped out of the station, luckily guided by the scent of freshly baked bread.

Entering the bakery, the aroma enveloped Sean, the rich scent of warm white bread tantalizingly invading his nostrils. "Sir, do you sell bread?" "Rye bread, five coppers each." The baker glanced at Sean, the sniffling youth clearly unable to afford white bread. "Can I trade for it?" "Damn thief!" The baker shouted, fearing trouble if Sean had stolen from the nobility. "No, sir, it's not like that. I have rabbit skins I hunted myself." Sean hurriedly explained. "Let me see them."

The previously agitated baker calmed down. "Sir, look, these two skins are excellent, surely a rarity here." The baker nodded, inspecting the rabbit skins, perfect for lining shoes or gloves. "You sure these aren't stolen?" "I swear, sir. I, Sean, am a renowned hunter in Baron Pascis's lands." "Ah, that baron! Hahaha." The baker chuckled, the baron infamous in Württemberg for his vile reputation. "Hehehe!" Sean joined the laughter, oblivious. "How about one skin for five rye loaves, kid?" "Deal, sir." The baker knew the skins' true worth, quickly packing bread for Sean. "Where are you headed?" "Reutlingen, sir." "That's quite the journey. Here, take a few extra." "Thank you, God bless you, sir." Sean's words tensed the baker's face. "You a Protestant?" "No, sir. Just something I've heard others say. Is there a problem?" Sean looked puzzled. "Kid, don't say that again. A priest might send you to the Inquisition." The baker patted the taller but youthful Sean. "Be on your way. Take this water skin, essential for long journeys." "Thank you, sir. May the Virgin bless you." Sean bowed and left, the baker's smiling face watching him go. "Wife, look! Two fine skins for less than half a silver!" The baker shouted to the back room, watching Sean's retreating figure. Sean bit into the warm rye bread, its rough texture comforting. "Hot bread tastes so good!" Sean thought, chewing. With his hunger sated, Sean wrapped in a thin blanket, gazed at the stars. The quiet station buzzed with new arrivals, a group approaching Sean's cart.