Arthur lay back on the cot after Alys left, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving him alone in the small room with only the faint scent of herbs and the creak of the floorboards settling in the quiet. He stared at the cracked ceiling, his body heavy as lead, the ache in his gut a constant throb that made every breath feel like work. What was he supposed to do now? It didn't sit right, just lying here like some invalid while Mira was out there, trapped in Willem's manse, probably scared out of her mind or worse. He wasn't used to doing nothing, back in Harrowfield, he'd always been moving, anything to keep busy and prove he wasn't the weak link his father saw. But Alys was right. Pushing too hard would land him back in bed, or worse, in a grave, and that wouldn't help Mira one bit.
He let out a sigh and pulled up his status.
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STATUS MENU
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Name: Arthur of Harrowfield
Class: Farmer
Heritage: Valyrian / Stormlands
Age: 16
Level: 4
Unallocated Stat Points: 0
Title(s): [None]
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COMBAT ATTRIBUTES
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Strength: 16
Dexterity: 8
Constitution: 17 (+25%)
Intelligence: 4
Perception: 4
Luck: 3
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TRAITS
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[Comely]
You've got the kind of face that gets you smiled at, flirted with, and forgiven for things you probably should not be.
[Sword Prodigy]
You wield a blade like it belongs in your hand—faster learning speed, tighter reflexes, and better execution with swords.
[Sharp Ears]
Your hearing is unnaturally acute. You can detect faint sounds, whispers, and movement even from across the room.
[Blood of Valyria]
Your veins run silver and fire. Whether by birth or by bed, the Old Blood knows its own. Grants heightened affinity with magic, dragons, and Valyrian relics. Also makes you just a little more unhinged than you'd like to admit.
[Dexterous]
Your hands and fingers are exceptionally nimble. Tasks requiring precision, balance, and control are performed with greater ease. You are less likely to fumble, and you can learn skills involving fine motor work—such as swordplay, crafting, or stealth—with increased speed and efficiency.
[Linguist]
You possess an instinctive grasp of language. You can understand and communicate in any spoken tongue once exposed to it, even those long thought extinct. You also possess a natural affinity for learning magical languages, allowing you to interpret and pronounce them with uncanny precision.
[Gift]
You may transfer one of your traits or skills to another individual. The recipient will receive a weaker version, but the skill or trait will be permanently removed from you. No duplication is possible.
[Inventive Genius]
You gain the instinctive ability to imagine, design, and improve tools, weapons, structures, and mechanisms far beyond the understanding of your time. Your mind naturally sees flaws and solutions. You feel a compulsion to tinker, adapt, and create. Every item you hold, every structure you see whispers possibilities of how to make it better.
[Demon Back]
The secret to overwhelming strength lies in the back. When the body is pushed past its limits, your muscles lock into a terrifying alignment that resembles the form of a demon. Strikes delivered in this state carry far greater force, and your strength briefly surpasses human limits.
⚠ Overuse places extreme strain on the body and risks permanent injury.
[Weapon Bond — Sword]
Your first true blade has become an extension of yourself. Each swing flows more naturally, precision improves, and your connection to sword styles grows stronger over time.
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SKILLS
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[Observe]
[Carpentry] (Apprentice)
[Conditioning] (25/100) [+25% Constitution]
└─ Recovery (Sub-skill)
[Novacaine] (54/100)
[Cooking] (10/100) (Novice)
[Tracker] (8/100) (Legendary)
[Axe Mastery] (49/100) (Novice)
[Carnal Knowledge] (65/100) (Adept)
[Shibukawa-ryū Jujutsu] (22/100) (Novice)
[Lumbering] (55/100) (Novice)
[Falling Star Style] (7/100) (Apprentice)
[Water Dancing Style] (0/100) (Novice)
[Herbal Insight] (Unique)
[Horse Riding] (10/100) (Novice)
[Poison Resistance] (0/100) (Journeyman)
[Massage] (0/100) (Master)
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He stared at the numbers. Strength at 16, Constitution 17—he had put three of his unallocated points into dexterity to bring it to 8, figuring he needed to be faster to balance out the raw power. It made sense; he couldn't just rely on brute force, not with enemies like Karl who moved like the wind. But even with the gains, the pain in his gut and the weakness in his limbs told him he was far from ready. He groaned as he sat up, the movement sending a fresh wave of ache through his ribs, but he swung his legs over the edge anyway, testing his weight.
The room spun for a second, but he steadied himself, his breath coming in short bursts. He needed to rest like Alys said, but the idea chafed. He decided to trust the matron for now; she had saved his life, and if she could find Willem's manse, it was worth the wait. In the meantime, once he was on his feet, he could train his skills. If Falling Star Style wouldn't budge without a teacher or real fights, he'd grind Water Dancing Style instead—maybe blend it with Shibukawa-ryū for something new, a way to blend speed and defense.
He lay back down, the cot creaking under him, and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. But the ache in his body lingered. He was alive, yeah, but what good was that if Mira was lost? Still, he had to believe—he'd find her, make Willem pay, and build the life they deserved. With that resolve, he drifted off.
...
Arthur woke to the sound of giggles and small feet pattering across the floorboards, the noise pulling him from a dreamless sleep like a hook in his gut. He blinked against the dim light filtering through the window, the stitches in his stomach throbbing with each breath. The door to his room stood ajar, and through it came a rush of children, four of them, scrambling in like a pack of puppies, their faces smeared with dirt.
The smallest, a girl no older than five with tangled brown hair and a missing front tooth, clambered onto the foot of his cot first. "He's awake! Look, he's got eyes open!" she squealed, bouncing on the mattress until Arthur groaned.
"Shh, Meggie, you're too loud," said a boy beside her, maybe seven, with freckles across his nose and a mop of red hair that stuck up like he'd slept in a hayloft. He poked Arthur's arm tentatively. "You the one Jory found? The one with the hole in his belly? Does it hurt? Can I see?"
Arthur sat up slowly, wincing as the movement tugged at his wounds, his head swimming with the sudden shift. "Easy there," he said. "Yeah, that's me. My names Arthur. And no, you can't see the hole it's stitched up now."
The girl giggled, her hands covering her mouth. "Stitched like a sock? Matron says you're tough as old boots. Did a robber stab you? Or a bandit? Was there blood everywhere?"
Another boy, taller than the first with skinny legs and a gap where his adult teeth were coming in, elbowed Meggie aside. "Don't be daft, Meggie. It was wolves, I heard Cassie say. Big ones with teeth like knives. Right, mister? Did you kill 'em?"
Arthur rubbed his eyess "Not wolves," he said. "Just bad men. But yeah, there was blood. Lots of it."
The fourth child, a quiet girl with braids and big brown eyes, maybe six, hung back by the door, twisting her skirt in her hands. "Did it hurt?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Matron says pain makes you strong. Is that true?"
Arthur looked at her, the innocence in her question hitting him like a punch to the gut. These kids knew hardship and here they were, crowding his room like he was some hero from a bard's tale. "It hurt," he admitted. "Still does. But yeah, it makes you strong. If you let it."
Meggie bounced again, nearly knocking into his side. "Show us how you fought 'em! Jory said you had a sword where is it? Can I hold it? Please?"
"No I don't, I dropped the sword before I passed out," Arthur said firmly. "Besides it's too dangerous for little ones."
"I'm not little!" Meggie protested, puffing out her chest. "I'm five and a half! Thom lets me hold his knife sometimes."
"Thom's an idiot," the red-haired boy said, rolling his eyes. "He cut his thumb last week carving animals. Matron yelled for hours."
The quiet girl tugged at Meggie's sleeve. "We shouldn't be in here. Matron said he's sick. What if we catch it?"
"You can't catch it," the taller boy said, waving her off. "It's a stab wound, not the pox. Hey, mister you got any stories? From before you got stabbed? Were you a guard? Or a bandit?"
Arthur chuckled despite himself, the sound rough in his sore throat. "No bandit. Just a traveller from the Crownlands. But I know a few tales. Ever hear of Ser Duncan the Tall, the Lord Commander?"
The kids' eyes lit up, and they crowded closer, Meggie plopping down on the edge of the cot, the red-haired boy—Ben, he said his name was—sitting cross-legged on the floor, the taller one, Sam, leaning against the wall, and the quiet girl, Lena, inching forward to sit beside Ben. "Tell us!" Meggie demanded, her missing tooth making her lisp. "Did he really fight a bear?"
Arthur leaned back against the wall, the pain fading a bit as he started the story. "Aye, he did. A big black bear in the woods..." He spun the tale, keeping it simple, the kids hanging on every word, gasping at the fights, laughing at the funny parts. For a few minutes, the orphanage felt less like a prison and more like a home, the children's energy pulling him out of his dark thoughts. Meggie interrupted with questions, Ben acted out the bear's roar, Sam scoffed at the silly bits, and Lena listened wide-eyed, her shyness melting away.
"Supper's ready!" Alys's voice boomed from the hall, cutting through the laughter. "All of you, in here now wash your hands first!"
The kids scrambled up, Meggie tugging at Arthur's sleeve. "Come on, tell the end later!"
Arthur nodded as they raced out, their footsteps thundering down the hall. He pushed himself up slowly and followed them into the main hall. Inside there Children darted between the mismatched tables, their bare feet slapping the floorboards, while Alys stirred the pot over the fire pit in the center, the stew bubbling with carrots and barley scavenged from the garden. The aroma filled the room, cutting through the shit smell of Flea Bottom that seeped in from outside. Arthur sat at the end of a long bench, his body still aching from the day's failed training, but he watched it all unfold with a smile.
Jory burst in from the garden door, his scruffy hair matted with sweat, carrying a basket of wilted greens. "Matron! I got the last of the cabbages, worms got some, but these are good!" He dumped the basket on the table, leaves spilling over the edge.
Alys turned, her spoon raised like a scepter. "Good work, Jory, but wash your hands first. You're not bringing dirt to my table."
Meggie, the little girl with the missing tooth, giggled from her spot on the floor, where she played with a rag doll. "Jory's dirty! Jory's dirty!" she chanted.
"Shut it, Meggie," Jory shot back, but he grinned as he headed to the basin, splashing water over his hands and flicking droplets at her. She squealed and ran, bumping into Ben, the red-haired boy, who was setting out wooden bowls.
"Watch it!" Ben grumbled, chasing her around the table until Alys's voice sounded out. "Enough! Ben, Meggie, sit down or you'll get no supper. And Thom, stop poking Lena with that stick!"
Thom, the skinny freckled boy, dropped the twig with a sheepish look, while Lena, the quiet girl with braids, stuck out her tongue at him. The children settled at the tables, and kept up the chatter; Jory boasting about finding a frog in the garden, Meggie demanding the biggest bowl, Ben arguing he deserved it more because he helped chop wood. Alys ladled the stew, passing bowls down the line with a nod to each child.
Cassie plopped down beside him with her bowl, her braid swinging as she leaned in close. "Not bad for orphanage grub, eh? Though if you're used to lordly feasts, you might turn your nose up Ser Knight."
Arthur chuckled, spooning up a bite. "Better than what I grew up on. No rocks in it, at least."
She grinned, her green eyes sparkling. "Rocks? What, did your ma cook with gravel? Or was that your special diet to toughen you up?"
He shook his head, smiling despite himself. "Something like that." Thinking to the numerous times his brothers and even his father had put pebbles in his food.
Cassie leaned closer, her shoulder brushing his. "Well, if you're staying, maybe you can show us how to swing that stick of yours, show us all how to be tough. The boys won't shut up about it, think you're some hedge knight come to train them."
Alys overheard from the head of the table and rapped her spoon on a bowl. "No talk of swords at supper! We've enough trouble without you lot playing at warriors. Eat your stew before it goes cold."
Meggie slurped her stew loudly, broth dripping down her chin. "It's good, Matron! Better than yesterday!"
"That's because Cassie didn't burn the carrots this time," Ben said, smirking across the table.
Cassie shot him a glare. "Oi, that was one time! And you ate it anyway, didn't you?"
Ben laughed, flicking a pea at her. "Yeah, but it tasted like charcoal!"
The pea hit Thom instead, who yelped and flicked one back, starting a small food war that had Meggie giggling and Lena ducking under the table. "Stop that!" Alys barked, her voice cutting through the noise like a whip. "Ben, Thom you want to scrub the pots tonight? Because I can arrange that. And Meggie, eat with your mouth closed girl you're not a pig."
"Sorry, Matron," they chorused, though grins lingered on their faces as they settled back to eating.
Jory, sitting across from Arthur, leaned forward with a whisper. "But you will show us, right? Please?"
Before Arthur could answer, Meggie climbed onto the table from her stool, reaching for Ben's bowl. "Gimme more! Mine's empty!"
Ben yanked it back. "Get your own! Matron, she's stealing!"
Alys sighed, grabbing Meggie's arm gently but firmly. "Off the table, young lady! That's no way to behave. Share with your sister, Ben, or I'll give your portion to the pigs."
Ben grumbled but slid his bowl over, Meggie scooping a spoonful with a triumphant grin. "Thanks, Ben! You're the best brother ever."
"I'm not your brother," Ben muttered, but he ruffled her hair anyway.
Lena, the quiet girl with braids, tugged at Arthur's sleeve. "Do you have a sister? Is she nice like Cassie?"
Arthur's smile faded slightly, but he nodded. "Aye, I do. She's the best person I know."
"Is she pretty?" Meggie asked, her mouth full of stew.
"Prettier than you probably," Ben teased, and Meggie stuck her tongue out, bits of carrot flying.
Alys rapped the spoon again. "Enough! Eat proper, or no story time tonight."
The threat worked, the kids quieted, though whispers and giggles still bubbled up. Thom leaned in to Arthur. "Matron tells the best stories. Last night was about Florian the Fool. You ever hear it?"
Arthur shook his head, spooning more stew. "I haven't, what is it about"
Thom's eyes lit up. "Florian was a fool, but he loved Jonquil, a maiden fair. He fought a dragon for her—"
"No, it was a giant!" Meggie interrupted.
"Was not!" Thom shot back.
Alys cleared her throat loudly. "If you can't behave, no stories at all. And that means you too, Thom."
The boy slumped, muttering apologies, and the table fell into a lively hum of eating and chatter. Arthur watched it all, a genuine smile creeping back onto his face. These kids had next to nothing—no parents, no coin, barely enough food to go around—but they still acted like a family. They teased and fought, but when Alys portioned out the last of the stew, the older ones made sure the little ones got extra bites. Jory helped Lena cut her bread, Cassie passed a heel to Meggie without a word. It was rough, but there was love in it, a warmth that Harrowfield had never given him. For a moment, he forgot his pain, the smile lingering as he ate.
Cassie caught his eye and leaned over. "What's got you grinning like a fool? The stew that good?"
Arthur chuckled. "Nah. Just... nice, seeing this. Like a real family."
She rolled her eyes. "Real family's what you make it. But if you're sticking around, don't think you get out of chores. Matron'll have you scrubbing pots before you know it."
Alys overheard and nodded. "Aye, and don't you forget it. Idle hands make mischief that's what my mother told me."
The kids laughed, and Arthur joined in. Supper wrapped up soon after, bowls scraped clean, and Alys stood. "Clear the table, all of you! Then gather for stories, no shoving, or it's straight to bed."
The children scrambled up, stacking bowls and wiping crumbs, their energy undimmed. Arthur rose to help, but Alys waved him off. "Not you, lad. Rest. You've earned it." He nodded and watched as the children cleared the table, their small hands stacking bowls with varying degrees of care, some clattering loudly against the wood while others were placed gently to avoid Alys's eye. The hall felt warmer now, the stew settling in his stomach, chasing away some of the hollow feeling that had plagued him since waking.
Jory and Ben wrestled over who got to carry the pot back to the kitchen, the rag ball forgotten on the floor. "It's my turn!" Ben shouted, tugging at the handle.
"Is not!" Jory yanked back, the pot tilting dangerously.
Alys looked up from wiping the table. "Enough, you two! Set it down before—"
The pot slipped from their grip, crashing to the floor with a metallic clang, stew remnants splashing across the boards. But the real danger came from the impact—a loose beam overhead groaned, a crack splitting the wood as a chunk of plaster broke free, plummeting straight toward Lena, who stood frozen below, her big brown eyes wide with surprise.
Arthur moved without thinking. He lunged from his chair, his body protesting with a sharp twinge in his ribs, and scooped Lena up in one arm, pulling her clear just as the wood hit the floor with a thud, dust billowing up in a cloud. The girl gasped, clutching his tunic, her braids swinging as he set her down safely a few steps away.
The room fell silent for a beat, then erupted in chatter. Alys rushed over, her apron flapping, and knelt beside Lena, her hands checking the girl for any harm. "Are you alright, child? Gods, that beam's been threatening to go for weeks." She pulled Lena into a quick hug, then looked up at Arthur, her lined face filled with gratitude. "Thank you, lad. That could've been bad. Lena, thank the man who saved you."
Lena looked up at Arthur, her eyes still wide but shining now. "Thank you, ser," she said softly, her small hand tugging at his sleeve. "You were fast like a horse."
Arthur smiled down at her, ruffling her braids gently. "No trouble. Just glad you're okay."
Lena beamed and ran off to join the others, who crowded around her with questions. "Did it hurt?"
Meggie asked. "Was it heavy?"
Alys stood, dusting her hands on her apron. "Clear this mess, all of you! And no more roughhousing near the beams." The children scattered, some grabbing brooms, others chattering excitedly about the "big crash."
Arthur watched Lena scamper away, his smile lingering as the kids resumed their play, the near-miss already turning into a story they'd tell for days. He turned to Alys. "Does that happen often?" he asked, nodding to the cracked beam overhead.
Alys sighed, picking up a broom herself. "More than I'd like. The roof leaks in winter, the walls rot in summer, and the beams give way when they please. We've patched what we can, but coin's tight. Food comes first, then clothes for the growing ones. Maintaining the house... that's at the bottom of the list. If I had the silver, I'd fix the lot, new beams, sealed roof, maybe even a proper stove. But winter's coming, and that means more mouths, you'd be surprised by the amount of children who get put out on the streets during winter. Can't afford to let 'em starve."
Arthur nodded, his mind turning to the silver stags in his pouch. He had been thinking about it since she mentioned the upkeep earlier—the orphanage had saved his life, fed him, healed him, all without asking for a copper. As she swept the plaster dust, her back bent with the weight of years, he made his decision. "Alys," he said, stepping closer. "I have some experience with carpentry. I could fix a lot of this." He gestured to the cracked beam, the sagging doorframe, the rotting window sill.
Alys straightened, her broom still in hand, her eyes narrowing. "You? Lad, you're barely on your feet. I won't have you undoing my stitching just to play builder."
"It'd be fine," Arthur said, meeting her gaze. "I need to move anyway, can't lie around forever."
Alys shook her head. "Even if you could, I can't afford to pay—."
Arthur held up a hand before she could go on. "I don't want pay. You've done more for me than I can repay already. Let me do this."
Alys stared at him for a long moment, her expression softening. Then she set the broom aside and pulled him into a hug, her arms strong despite her age. "You're a good soul, Arthur. Thank you." She stepped back, wiping her eyes quickly. "Tools are in the shed out back, hammer, nails, a saw that's seen better days. Spare lumber's there too, what little we have from last year's storm."
Arthur nodded. "I'll take a look."
She smiled, patting his arm. "Story time is soon. You might enjoy it."
Arthur nodded before he headed down the corridor and pushed through the orphanage's back door, the wood scraping against the frame as he stepped into the small garden, the evening sun casting long shadows over the vegetable patches. The air carried the earthy scent of turned soil and fresh herbs. He headed straight for the shed, that leaned against the orphanage wall, its roof sagging under the weight of old thatch, the door hanging on one rusted hinge. Arthur paused as he approached, spotting Cassie kneeling in the dirt nearby, her bare feet sunk into the soil, her hands caked with mud as she pulled weeds from a row of carrots.
She looked up as his shadow fell over her, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Back at it already? Haven't learnt your lesson yet?"
Arthur managed a faint smile. "Just checking the tools," he said. "Told Alys I'd help fix things."
Cassie stood, brushing dirt from her hands on her dress, leaving smears on the fabric. She tilted her head, her lips curving into a teasing grin. "First you save Lena from that falling wood like some hero out of a song, and now you're fixing up the orphanage? You're a real knight in shining armor, aren't you? What's next, slaying a dragon in Flea Bottom?"
Arthur felt heat creep up his neck, the praise sitting awkward on him. "Nah, nothing like that. Just trying to help, pay the matron back for patching me up. She's done a lot for me, even when she didn't have to."
Cassie stepped closer, her braid swinging as she looked him up and down, her eyes lingering a moment too long. "Modest too? Careful Arthur you keep this up, and a girl might start thinking you're worth keeping around," she said lightly her smile a touch warmer as she brushed past him, her arm grazing his.
Arthur chuckled, the sound rough in his sore throat, and turned back to the shed, pushing the door open with a creak. Inside was a jumble of rusted tools, a hammer with a chipped head, saw bent at the teeth, nails scattered in a tin box, but enough to work with. Spare lumber leaned against the wall, dry boards from some salvaged crate, splintered but usable. He picked up the hammer, testing its balance. This he could do—fix what was broken, even if it was just an old building. It beat lying in bed, stewing in his failures.
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[New Quest Received]
A HOME REPAIRED
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Description:
The orphanage has stood through storms, summers, and the weight of too many small feet, but time and Flea Bottom's damp rot have taken their toll. Beams sag, floorboards creak, and the roof leaks when it rains. Alys has done her best with little, but her hands are old and her coin purse empty. You owe her more than thanks and for once, you have the skills to make a difference. It's time to put hammer and saw to work.
Objectives:
– Inspect the entire orphanage for structural damage
– Repair the cracked ceiling beam in the main hall
– Reinforce the sagging roof supports in the attic
– Replace the rotten floorboards near the hearth
– Patch the broken window frame in the dormitory
– Build new shutters for the kitchen
– Re-stabilize the garden fence and gate
– Craft a new bench for the garden
– Sand and oil the warped doorframes throughout the hall
– Repair the crooked staircase leading to the loft
– Seal the leaks in the roof before the next rainfall
Bonus Objectives:
– Use salvaged or recycled materials instead of buying new ones
→ Reward: [Trait: Craftsman's Instinct]
– Improve on the original structure with creative reinforcements or new designs
→ Reward: +1 Intelligence
– Finish all repairs before Alys notices you're doing too much and forbids you from overexerting yourself
→ Reward: +1 Dexterity
Rewards:
– +200 XP
– [Skill Upgrade Token] (Allows one skill to advance a full rank instantly)
– [Otherworld Token]
Failure:
– Roof collapses during the next storm
– The children lose their safe haven
– Alys's trust in your judgment wanes
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(AN: These people might not sound important but they are, Arthur is going to need friends and people he can trust and so I'm spending a little more time developing them. Anyway hope you enjoyed it)
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