Arthur stood in the clearing with the lean-to at his back, the little camp he had carved out of the forest looking surprisingly solid now. The fire pit sat cold for the moment, stones neatly arranged around blackened ash, and a stack of split wood was piled just far enough from the shelter to be out of the way. His bare feet dug into the packed earth as he swung a wooden sword in both hands, the stripped-down length of ash wood cutting clumsy arcs through the air. He was shirtless, sweat running down his back and chest in streaks, each swing heavier than it needed to be. His stance was rough and his grip still awkward at times. Any trained swordsman from the seven kingdoms would have taken one look and probably doubled over laughing. But Arthur kept going and swung again, he didn't stop until the faint blue text blinked into his vision.
+1 Swordsmanship
Arthur let out a tored breath and lowered the blade, the ache in his arms settling in now that he'd paused. He dropped onto the log he'd cut down a couple of days ago, wiping his forearm across his face before resting the sword across his knees.
It had been a long few days. He'd worked himself near to the bone, getting only a handful of hours' sleep each night before starting again. Most of his time had gone into the cart; measuring, cutting, and shaping each piece of wood while his carpentry skill crept upward point by point. But he'd made himself stick to four hours of sword work every day. It wasn't glamorous, and it wasn't fast, but thanks to his Sword Prodigy perk the progress was obvious. His body was starting to remember movements before his mind caught up, and if he'd been willing to focus on it more than the cart, he was sure he'd be right on the edge of reaching apprentice level by now.
He breathed out slowly, his chest rising and falling, then lifted his hand to summon his status screen.
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STATUS MENU
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Name: Arthur of Harrowfield
Class: Farmer
Heritage: Valyrian / Stormlands
Age: 16
Level: 2
Unallocated Stat Points: 0
Title(s): [None]
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COMBAT ATTRIBUTES
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Strength: 6
Dexterity: 4
Constitution: 7 (+10%)
Intelligence: 1
Perception: 2
Luck: 2
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PERKS
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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 movement even from across the room
[Blood of Valyria]
Your veins run silver and fire whether you earned it by birth or by bed the Old Blood knows its own
Grants heightened affinity with magic dragons and other Valyrian relics
Also makes you just a little bit more unhinged than you'd like to admit
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NEGATIVE PERKS
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[Weak Gut]
Low resistance to spoiled food rot disease and stress susceptible to nausea and vomiting
[Clumsy Fingers]
Fine motor skills are lacking you struggle with anything requiring delicate precision like lockpicking crafting or stitching
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SKILLS
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[Observe]
[Carpentry] (55/100) (Novice)
[Conditioning] (10/100) [+10% Constitution]
[Novacaine] (2/100)
[Cooking] (0/100) (Novice)
[Tracker] (2/100) (Legendary)
[Axe Mastery] (20/100) (Novice)
[Carnal Knowledge] (2/100) (Novice)
[Shibukawa-ryū Jujutsu] (5/100) (Novice)
[Lumbering] (28/100) (Novice)
[Swordsmanship] (35/100) (Novice)
_____________________________________
Arthur leaned back on the log, scanning the glowing text of his status before closing it again and looking over at the row of carts pushed against the treeline. They weren't much to look at, but he was still pleased with his progress. He was well on his way to completing the quest, and more importantly, he was figuring out how to actually get his skills to move. The key was experimentation. If he just did the same thing over and over, the progress was painfully slow, but whenever he tried something new and it actually worked, the skill gain jumped.
The proof was standing right there, or in this case, barely standing. He had made a few carts already, though they were of significantly low quality. The first one had looked halfway decent until the moment he tried to move it, at which point the wheels had fallen off in opposite directions. Another had been so uneven that it could only roll in a wide circle no matter how hard he pushed. He pushed himself up and walked over to the most recent one, resting his hand on the warped frame before activating Observe.
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[Item] Homemade Cart
[Quality] Trash tier
[Value] 1 copper penny or whatever the lumber is worth
[Description]
This "cart" is only capable of remaining upright through sheer divine luck. Any attempt to use it for its intended purpose will result in immediate collapse and possible injury to the user.
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Arthur stared at the text with a blank, unimpressed expression. He didn't even feel offended. It was just accurate. The damn thing had somehow survived the night without falling apart, but only because the wind had been calm and nothing larger than a mouse had brushed against it. The moment it saw a real load, it would snap like a dry twig. He reached up and ran a hand down his face, sighing through his fingers before glancing back at the lean-to. He had constructed it around the small alcove that he had found and so it wasn't too bad of a place to sleep, especially with the leather padding the ground.
Arthur's stomach gave a loud, hollow rumble that made him glance down in mild annoyance. "Alright... food," he muttered to himself. He pushed up from the log and went to check the small pile where he usually kept any scraps from the day before, but there was nothing. Not a crumb. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about hunting, but for the past few days he hadn't bothered. Not because he couldn't be bothered—well... maybe a little because of that—but mostly because of Myrna.
After he'd found her crouched in the bushes by the river, they'd ended up talking longer than he expected. She'd been quiet at first, almost jittery, but she listened to everything he told her. When he explained why he was out here and how long he planned to stay, she didn't laugh or call him an idiot like Mira had. She just nodded slowly, like she understood. And then she said she'd help. Whatever way she could. She even offered to cook meals and bring them to him so he could focus on his work instead of wasting hours hunting and preparing food.
Arthur hadn't needed much convincing. It was a perfect arrangement for him. Sure, he still needed to raise his [Cooking] skill to ten, but with his tracking ability, hunting wasn't a problem. If he needed to, he could find a rabbit's trail, follow it straight to the burrow, and be back with meat in less than an hour. Skin it, cook it, done. Simple enough. But his carpentry and swordsmanship were the priority right now.
That conversation with Myrna, though, had come with something else. The moment she agreed to help him and said she'd bring food, the System had chimed in, and a new prompt had appeared in his vision.
__________________________________
[New Quest Received]
A BLOOM IN THE SHADE
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Description:
Myrna Tiller is a shy, lonely girl who has spent most of her life in the background. You remember the kindness she's shown and the fondness she's carried for you since childhood. If you can bring her out of her shell and show her the attention no one else has, she might finally open up.
Objectives:
– Romance Myrna Tiller
– Get her out of her shell
– Claim Myrna Tiller's maidenhood
Rewards:
– 100 XP
– [Skill: Herbal Insight] (Unique)
Failure:
– She moves on
– Remains unhappy
– You feel bad
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Needless to say, Arthur was definitely doing this quest. Not just because the unique skill was bound to be useful—though that alone was reason enough—but because Myrna was actually a nice person. And nice people weren't exactly common in his life right now. Helping her wouldn't cost him much, and maybe by the end of it he'd have a new friend, or even a companion, someone he could trust.
Plus... losing his virginity had been a very good experience, and he wasn't about to pretend otherwise. If this quest happened to lead to more of that, well, he wasn't going to complain. Myrna might not be as striking as Elsie, but she was still cute in her own way, and Arthur had never been especially picky when it came to someone treating him well.
He leaned forward on the log he'd been using as a workbench, turning the small block of wood over in his hands before pressing the edge of his dagger into it. The blade scraped steadily, thin curls of pale wood falling into his lap as he carved out the shape. Bit by bit, it started to take form—this time it actually looked like what it was meant to be. A horse, simple and squat-legged, but with a proper neck and a head that wasn't just a lump.
When he finally sat back and turned it in his hands, he allowed himself a small grin. It was still basic, nothing fancy, but a child would probably love it as a toy. He could almost picture some brat running around with it, making whinnying sounds and pretending it was galloping across the floor. 'Surely that has to be worth some coin?' He thought to himself.
He flicked his focus over it and called up [Observe].
────────────────────
[Item] Wooden Horse
[Quality] Common
[Value] Copper Groat
[Description]
A simple hand-carved wooden toy in the shape of a horse. Solid enough for light play. No fine details or craftsmanship worth note, but serviceable for its purpose.
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Not too bad, Arthur thought, setting it down beside the others he'd made. His hands already moved for another block, he might as well keep going even if he was hungry. He'd been grinding his [Carpentry] for days now and every little improvement felt good, even if he was still a long way from making a cart that wouldn't collapse under its own weight.
He kept on carving for hours until he was interrupted by the sound of grass shifting under someone's feet. Arthur's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing until he caught sight of someone stepping into the edge of his camp. Myrna emerged from the trees, a woven basket hooked over one arm, the faintest smile tugging at her mouth as she looked toward him.
Arthur set the wooden horse aside and stood up as Myrna stepped into the camp. "Hey," he said with a small grin.
"Hi," she replied softly as she usually did, though there was a touch more ease in it than the last time they'd spoken.
"You're just in time," Arthur said, rubbing his stomach. "I'm starving."
That brought a faint pink to her cheeks. "I... I made something," she said, shifting the basket in her arms before opening it and pulling out a small cloth bundle. "It's not much, just some bread and cheese... and I tried to make a meat pie, but I didn't have much lard, so I had to use butter instead. And I put in some of the herbs I found the other day."
Arthur sat down on the log again and didn't bother with manners—he got stuck in right away, biting into the bread first before moving on to the pie. "This is good," he said through a mouthful. "Really good."
Myrna sat across from him, hands resting in her lap, watching him eat with a small, almost-hidden smile. She tried not to look too obvious, but her eyes kept following every bite.
"So," Arthur said between mouthfuls, "anything happen in the village since I left?"
Myrna blinked, realising she'd been staring at him. Her eyes widened a fraction. "Oh! Yes. Elsie's father... he got into a huge fight with Thomel Harte earlier today."
Arthur paused mid-chew, frowning as he tried to place the name. "That's the man Elsie's engaged to, isn't it?"
She nodded, her expression tightening at the mention of Elsie. "Yes." Ever since Arthur had told her about what the two do them had done she felt a sick feeling in her chest, one of anger and annoyance at the mere mention of her name.
"What did they fight about?" Arthur asked.
Myrna hesitated before answering. "Apparently... Thomel cancelled the whole betrothal. Now everybody in the village knows that you took Elsie's maidenhead."
Arthur cursed under his breath. That wasn't good. He'd been hoping the whole thing might quietly fade away—maybe Elsie's father would argue with his father, they'd yell, and that would be the end of it. But if the entire village knew, there was no way this was going to blow over.
"Are you... okay?" Myrna asked quietly.
Arthur shook himself out of his thoughts. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just thinking." In truth, his gut told him this was going to spiral fast. He had hurt Darry Tanners pride by fucking his daughter and then beating both of his sons and getting away with it. There was no way he was just going to live and let live; he was gonna be coming for him.
"Did anything else happen?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," she said. "Darry Tanner grabbed his daughter and dragged her home after. But... before he did I did hear you and your father mentioned during the argument."
Arthur swore again. "He's probably going to the headman. He knows my father won't give any reparations, but the headman has the power to who handles disputes like this."
Myrna nodded. "It's harvest season, though. The headman's busy with the farms bringing their taxes in early. If that's the case, he'll probably have to wait before he gets a formal audience." She tapped her finger against her chin as she spoke, clearly thinking it through.
Arthur gave her a surprised look. "You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing."
Her cheeks coloured again, and she glanced away. "I just... pay attention," she murmured.
"Well, it's useful," Arthur said, finishing the last bite of bread. "Thanks for the food. I should get back to work." He had to assume that Darry had already gone to his house, and his father had likely sent him packing as he wasn't there. There is a chance Darry won't believe him and will think my father is protecting me, but there's also the chance he does believe and he'll start combing the forest for me. In that case he needed to finish this quest fast, and get back to the farm so he can start planing his exodus from this damn place.
Myrna hesitated. "Could I... maybe stay and watch?" she asked quietly, her voice carrying that nervous edge again.
"I don't have a problem with that," Arthur said. "But don't you need to be home soon?"
She shook her head. "No. My father and mother are staying at the Eastridge farm tonight, they've been harvesting every day. They won't know I'm gone."
Arthur nodded and stood, wiping his hands on his trousers before moving back toward his tools. "Alright then. Make yourself comfortable."
_____________________________________
The sun was sinking low over Gorman's farm, bleeding orange and gold across the fields and casting long shadows through the yard. Inside the farmhouse the air was warm with the smell of stew, bread, and ale. Gregor and Garlan were already at the table being their usual loud and restless selves, trading crude remarks and shoving at each other's shoulders while Elyse and Mira moved between the hearth and the table serving supper. Gorman sat at the head of the table in his usual place, his broad shoulders hunched forward and his weathered face fixed in a flat, unreadable expression, his eyes following nothing in particular.
Elyse set the pot down and began ladling out portions, her movements brisk and efficient, before finally taking her own seat. Mira followed after, slipping into her chair quietly, her eyes lowered. Gregor reached for his bowl the moment it hit the table, already bringing a chunk of bread to his mouth, and Garlan was little better, tearing into his portion before the steam had even had time to fade.
"Not yet," Elyse said sharply, her voice cutting across the table like a whip. "You will not touch that food until we've prayed and given thanks to the Seven."
Gregor groaned under his breath, and Garlan rolled his eyes, but neither of them dared argue outright. Elyse turned her gaze toward her daughter. "Mira?" she prompted, her tone leaving no room for refusal.
Mira held back a sigh, her shoulders tightening for a moment before she laced her fingers together. She recited the words clearly, though her voice carried no joy. "We ask the Father to judge us with justice. We ask the Mother to bless us with mercy. We ask the Warrior to grant us strength. We ask the Maiden to protect us with purity. We ask the Smith to mend our broken ways. We ask the Crone to guide us with wisdom. And we ask the Stranger to keep death far from us this day."
When she finished there was a brief pause before Gregor leaned forward, smirking faintly. "Now can we eat?" he asked, not even bothering to hide his impatience.
Elyse let out a quiet sigh but gave a small nod. The brothers wasted no time, tearing into their bowls with all the manners of half-starved animals, chewing loudly and speaking with their mouths full. Mira ate slowly and neatly, her eyes flicking up only once in a while, while Elyse kept her focus on her food.
It was Elyse who noticed first that Gorman's bowl was untouched. She glanced at him and asked, "Is the food not to your liking, love?"
He did not answer at once. His gaze had shifted, fixing squarely on Mira, and there was something about the weight of it that made her stiffen in her seat. His voice was low when he finally spoke. "I received a message from the headman today."
Mira said nothing, continuing to chew slowly.
"What did he want, love?" Elyse asked cautiously.
"Darry Tanner has brought a case before him," Gorman said, his tone flat but with a growl building under it. "He demands compensation from us for his daughter's lost maidenhood."
Gregor snorted and leaned toward his brother. "Elsie probably lost it years ago if she's gone to rut with someone like Arthur," he said, grinning. Garlan chuckled under his breath.
The sound of Gorman's hand slamming against the table snapped the air in two. The bowls jumped and Elyse flinched, Mira's spoon pausing midair. "This is not amusing, boy," Gorman barked. "If the headman rules in his favour they can demand at least half of our crop as compensation."
"Half?" Elyse's voice rose in shock. "How can he demand so much?"
"Thomel is a well-off man," Gorman said with an audible growl. "They argue that a betrothal to him would have secured wealth for their family. The loss of that marriage is what they are pressing the claim on."
"That's not fair," Gregor muttered. "It's not our problem if she spread her legs for someone else."
"It doesn't matter what's fair," Gorman snapped.
"Will the headman rule in his favour?" Elyse asked, though her voice was quieter now.
"I don't know," Gorman said after a pause. "The headman has pushed the dispute back until the harvest is over."
Elyse's fingers tightened around her spoon. "We can't afford to lose so much of our crop," she said, her voice shaking. "We won't last through the winter."
"I know that, woman!" Gorman roared suddenly, making her flinch.
His attention cut back to Mira like a blade turning. He leaned forward. "Where is Arthur?"
Mira blinked at him. "I don't know," she said, keeping her tone level. "He ran off."
"Don't lie to me, girl," Gorman spat. "You and he are attached at the hip. You wouldn't be able to help yourself unless you knew where he was."
"I don't," Mira said again.
"Are you a fool, Mira? Do you wish us all to starve this winter because of that boy's foolishness?"
"That boy is your son," Mira said, her glare sharp.
"That boy is no son of mine," Gorman snarled. "He is a shame on this family. A coward. Closer to a woman than a man."
He pushed back from the table and stood, shoving the bench slightly with his knee. "I thought perhaps he'd grown a spine when he attacked me, that maybe he could be of use to this family and start paying us back for the years he's been nothing but a weight dragging us under. But no—his actions have brought us closer to death than we've ever been."
"You never gave him a chance," Mira shot back, her voice rising. "You've never done anything to help him, and now you blame him. This is just a reflection of your own shortcomings."
The crack of his hand across her face echoed in the room. Mira's head snapped to the side, her hand flying to her cheek as the skin reddened. Gregor and Garlan both rose, but Gorman's bellowed "Sit down!" sent them sinking back into their seats.
"You've been given everything a daughter could want," Gorman growled. "You've been treated well. And what do I get for it? Disrespect. Disloyalty."
"My love, perhaps—" Elyse began, her voice trembling.
"Silence, woman!" Gorman barked, and she clamped her mouth shut instantly.
His gaze returned to Mira. "You want to be loyal to your coward of a brother? Very well. You can suffer the consequences in his place."
Mira stared at him, her voice low but sharp. "What do you mean?"
"Darry has accepted another form of reparations," Gorman said, his tone deliberate.
The table went silent. Everyone knew exactly what was about to be said.
"No," Mira whispered.
"You are to marry his eldest son, Brant Tanner," Gorman said. "After which he will forgive any bad blood between our families."
"No!" Mira's voice cracked, and she leaned forward. "You can't do this. You can't just—"
"You had your chance to tell me where Arthur was," Gorman said, cutting over her. "He was another form of compensation. But since you want to protect him, you'll take his place."
His eyes shifted to Gregor. "Do you still have your sword, son?"
Gregor nodded once. Gregor had been a sellsword for several years before returning to Harrowfield, working for coin in the service of whoever could pay. "Yes, father."
"Tomorrow, start searching the woods for Arthur or any trail he's left."
"Yes, father," Gregor replied.
Mira slammed her hands against the table. "You said I'd take his place, leave him alone!"
"You are a great beauty, Mira," Gorman said coldly. "I was waiting to marry you off to a minor lord or a knight. That boy has ruined those plans. And for that, I will punish him."
Mira tried to rise, but Gorman's hand shot out, grabbing her arm in a bruising grip. "Garlan," he said without looking away from her, "watch her. Don't let her leave her room. She will not run to him."
"Yes, father," Garlan said.
"Take her to her room," Gorman ordered.
Garlan did as told, dragging Mira toward the stairs while she fought against his grip, but he was stronger and she had little choice but to go. Gregor watched but didn't interfere, sitting back down as Gorman reclaimed his seat and began eating at last.
Elyse looked at her husband from across the table. "Is this truly the right path?" she asked, almost pleadingly.
Gorman ignored the question entirely. "Get me more ale," he said instead.
Elyse stood without another word, moving to the keg. Gorman leaned back in his chair with a faint, satisfied smirk, chewing slowly, clearly pleased with himself as he dug back into his meal.
(AN: So Arthur is getting stronger and his father is being a dick. Tbf I'm sure most people would be pissed that their daughter who has the looks of a highborn beauty was marrying a tanners son. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter).
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