Here's the English translation of Chapter 9 of Revolution.exe, incorporating the updated names (Shylock for ไชล็อก, Drechuis for หมู่บ้านเดรชัวส์, Kiebrav for เคียบราฟ, and Thorun for โทรุน). The translation reflects the current date and time (04:17 PM +07, Tuesday, June 10, 2025) as noted by the system, though it doesn't directly impact the story content. The tone and details are preserved from the original Thai text.
The afternoon sun streamed into the old forge, its light filtering through the nearly open workspace, though the tiled roof cast a cool shade beneath. Smith was shaping tools for general gardening use.
"Why'd you make these two shovels? I don't see anyone ordering them, and we've got spares in the storeroom anyway," the young man asked.
Smith, attaching the shovel heads to prepared wooden handles, replied without hesitation.
"It's because of that treasure. Shylock and I went digging for it together. Things got a bit messy, so we had to ditch the shovels."
Len's curiosity was satisfied. As he rose to step outside for some air, he spotted a man in a blue cloak riding a horse toward the forge.
"You must be Smith, right?"
The first words were a cautious greeting to confirm his identity. Smith rose from his chair and nodded.
"That's me. Got a problem?"
"My name is Lemon, squire to Sir Alric, the knight commander," the man introduced himself, quickly moving to the point with an offer.
"Yesterday, Sir Alric saw your invention and was thoroughly impressed. He sent me to discuss a proposal."
Smith pursed his lips, eyes widening, as if a fish had swum into his net before he'd even cast it.
"For real? What did Sir Alric say?"
"You're a craftsman of exceptional skill. Sir Alric believes this invention could bring victory easily if the foot soldiers wield it. Recognizing your talent, he proposes that if you become the chief craftsman of the knight's workshop, you'd receive handsome pay and unlimited access to materials—iron, copper, wood, you name it."
Smith countered, "The knight's workshop—not directly under Kiebrav's lord?"
"Our workshop falls under the lord's jurisdiction. Working with Sir Alric is the same as working for the lord. What do you say?"
…
Smith pondered, rubbing his chin in circles. The burly man let silence hang for a moment before exhaling.
"I'll need to think it over. If I agree, I'll tell Sir Alric myself."
Squire Lemon nodded. "I understand, but opportunities like this don't come often, Smith."
The man mounted his horse and rode back the way he came.
Today, a messenger from Alric had made contact, but Smith needed to consult Shylock first. They had to stick to their plan, negotiating with partners without losing too much ground. Smith returned to his workbench, picked up the two shovels, and headed to the village barn.
"You're not joking, are you, Shylock?"
"I'm dead serious. I sold it all. Some adventurer bought the lot. Name's Thorun—ever heard of him? From the Silver Fang Guild."
Inside the dimly lit square interrogation room, the two men faced each other. Instead of an interrogation, it turned into a business discussion.
"Silver Fang—bounty hunters from the northern lands. I know even the fiercest, most dangerous bandits fall to them. Word is, just five of them wiped out a demon in a cursed ruin. They're stronger than a whole squad, despite being a small group," the young knight recounted. Shylock's interest sharpened.
The knight pressed on, "Still, I can't fully trust you, Shylock. I haven't seen this 'gun' with my own eyes. Why tell me this?"
"Didn't Sir Alric report to the lord?" Shylock asked, surprised. Given Alric should've informed the lord, a day's delay seemed odd.
"I don't know about that," the knight replied.
"Yesterday, Sir Alric inspected the village, and I showed him the 'gun,'" Shylock explained.
Sir Bigel paused, his relaxed demeanor shifting to deep thought. "If I had to guess, if you're telling the truth, Alric might be sitting on it. He could have his own plans he doesn't want exposed."
"Lately, Alric's been acting shady. He's been visiting other towns so often he's barely in Kiebrav. Plus, he's requested a ton of troops for the border—kinda suspicious."
Bigel paused, motioning Shylock closer before whispering, "Something big might be brewing in Kiebrav soon."
"For real?" Shylock's face twisted, as if he'd stumbled onto a secret he shouldn't.
"Shylock, as my friend, let me tell you something," the knight began. The calm interrogation room grew eerily silent, the torchlight flickering.
"That day I transferred to become a knight of Kiebrav was when my sister married the lord. I came here to watch over and protect her, fearing danger. That day might be near. Commander Alric could be planning something big. My sister might be at risk—he might even abduct her."
Sir Bigel spoke with a pained expression, though it was speculation. Shylock began to sense a pattern. It explained why Bigel hadn't heard about the gun—a terrifying, powerful weapon. Anyone seeing it would rush to report it for discussion, especially with unrest across the continent. Yet, after a day, not everyone knew.
"Sir Bigel might've kept it from you because you're the lord's son-in-law. He could fear you'd report it to the lord, ruining Alric's plans," Shylock emphasized, piecing it together.
Not out of sympathy, but he saw an opportunity.
"What if the gun's real? What do you think?"
Shylock opened the door, leveraging his salesman's charm to sway the knight.
"If that's true, it's no surprise Alric's holding back. That guy might have a weapon no one can match—not even wizards or shamans. He could act soon."
"But what if he doesn't have it yet?"
Shylock spoke as if it were fact, nudging the young knight to buy in.
"Why do you think that?" the knight asked.
"You can choose not to believe me, but your hunch is spot-on. If you want to see the gun, come to Drechuis with me."
"As for saying it came from an elven caravan—I lied."
"Truth is, I know the source of the guns, but I'm just a middleman. I have stakes with the makers. I can supply more."
The young knight fell silent, his mind a tangled mess. Bigel lowered his head, reorganizing his thoughts, while Shylock sat with a friendly yet cunning smile.
"You didn't come to brag about a new weapon you found, did you? What do you want this time?"
Sir Bigel pressed Shylock firmly. The atmosphere grew heavy, even flies unable to buzz, yet Shylock remained relaxed, steering the conversation where he wanted.
The merchant shifted from casual to upright, composed yet assertive—contrasting the young knight's tense posture.
"Sir Bigel, before I share my thoughts, please assume the gun is real—whether you believe it or not, you'll grasp what I'm driving at."
"Today, I sold three of those weapons to Thorun, leader of the Silver Fang Guild. Those three were all I brought to sell in town. At first, I just wanted to showcase its potential, but a master buyer swooped in and cleared the stock."
Shylock jangled his coin pouch, the metal clinking.
"327 pence—this is what he paid."
"Consider this: why would a skilled guild leader, an expert, drop that much cash without hesitation?"
Pausing, Shylock let the knight process.
"…"
"As a knight protector, imagine if you seized this ultimate weapon and stopped a rebel plot. You'd earn great favor. The lord might see you as a true brother-in-law, rewarding you—maybe even making you the next knight commander or lord."
With no response from Sir Bigel, Shylock pitched his plan, hoping the knight would catch on.
"I…"
Sir Bigel smiled, relaxing slightly, as if Shylock had swayed him another step.
"I get it, Shylock. I'll need to see it with my own eyes. If that rebel Alric acts first, at least I can protect my sister."
"But Shylock, if that's true, your gun's too expensive. The costs might pile up," Sir Bigel still harbored doubts.
Hearing this, Shylock offered, "I know a young adventurer, a Silver Fang member. Thorun might head to Drechuis—it's that kid's hometown. Silver Fang isn't a big guild, but they're efficient. Don't you think Alric's gathering forces? Bandits often raid the borders. If Silver Fang posed as bandits, disrupting supply lines with guerrilla tactics, Alric would have to delay his plans."
Shylock laid out his idea, subtly proposing to Sir Bigel.
Bigel responded, "I need assurance you'll back us. Your plan sounds solid."
"As your friend, Sir Bigel, I'd naturally support you."
"With your knightly aura, I'd ask you to help me connect with Silver Fang. I'll fully back you with resources. Agreed?"
Shylock placed 20 pence in the knight's hand.
"What's this?" the knight asked.
"For causing a disturbance—riling up the townsfolk," Shylock replied.
"You don't need to pay that much. Take it back."
"I might face charges for using a deadly weapon in town—or worse, be accused of witchcraft or illegal magic. The townsfolk already know."
"You have enough authority to sway the case."
"I owe you now."
"Deal!" Sir Bigel accepted. Shylock smiled warmly.
The two exited the interrogation room.
Shylock's initial plan succeeded. Luck favored him meeting a knightly ally unaware of Sir Alric's secrets. He sowed doubt in Bigel about Alric to boost his leverage. The situation was turning in his favor. Emerging, Shylock grinned, 307 coins still jingling in his pouch. He hurried to a borrowed cart, urging the horse back to the village.
Along the way, Shylock pulled out his player journal—a Project Aden system replacing character status windows or quests. It logged daily events like a diary and offered a rough status overview.
[ ID: Corner03_JACK
History: Known as "Shylock," a visionary middleman merchant
Perk: Persuasion (Grimoire)
The Persuader excels at convincing others, gaining trust by highlighting possibilities.
When actions yield results, people's faith in you grows.
Ego, Charm, Faith, Rhetoric—these define you.
]