The night was quiet except for the occasional pop from the campfire, the glow of the flames casting light across the clearing Arthur had claimed. Another Four days had passed since he had thrown himself fully into the work, and it was finally paying off. His carpentry was at 80 now, and the difference showed in almost every way. The carts he was making actually looked like carts —sturdy, balanced, and capable of holding weight without threatening to collapse. They were nothing fancy, but compared to his earlier disasters they might as well have been masterpieces.
He had even started branching out. Simple pieces of furniture—a table, a few chairs with properly fitted legs, wooden spoons and ladles. Compared to a cart, these were nothing, but the carts had been the real test. They required working moving parts, fitting each piece together perfectly without nails or metal supports, and they had to survive more than a few bumps without falling apart. Arthur leaned back on his heels, breathing heavily as he wiped sweat from his brow. The last cart sat in front of him, its wheels aligned perfectly, the joints fitted tight. He reached out and rested his hand on the frame.
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[Item]: Wooden Cart
[Quality]: Common
[Value]: 5 Copper Groats
[Description]: A functional wooden cart, sturdy enough to handle moderate loads and travel across uneven terrain. Simple in design but well-built, it should serve its purpose reliably.
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"Not bad," Arthur said before lowering the cart back down.
He decided he'd had enough of carpentry for the night. His gaze drifted to the fire, where Myrna lay curled up near the warmth, her head resting on her folded arms. She'd fallen asleep like that more than once in the last two days. Probably because she felt lonely, he guessed, though she never said as much. It was... nice, having her around. She had an easy way of talking, even when she was shy, and she knew more about edible plants and herbs than anyone he'd met. She'd spent hours pointing out what was safe, what could heal, and what would make a man sick for days.
Arthur pushed himself to his feet, crossing over to the wooden sword leaning against a tree. One of many he'd made over the past few days. He took it up, feeling the familiar weight in his hands. His swordsmanship had risen to 99 now, though for the past day he hadn't been able to budge it further no matter how much he trained. He didn't know why, but it was frustrating. Being on the cusp of upgrading his
He practiced for a little longer, running through swings and cuts, footwork and turns, the blade moving with speed but not yet with the ease of a master. Eventually, he stopped with a sigh. He needed to get stronger, and faster than he was right now. The quest wasn't going to complete itself.
He still had one Otherworld Token left — the one from when he'd beaten the Tanner brothers. He'd been saving it for when he really needed it, but maybe this was the right time.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's see what we get."
The token dissolved in his palm, light pooling in front of him before the system's message appeared.
[You have gained the Rare Perk: Demon Back]
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[Description]: The secret to a powerful strike lies in the back. Your musculature is abnormal, forming the likeness of a demon when flexed. By engaging these muscles in a precise way, your swings will hit with greater force and your strength will surpass the norm.
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Arthur's eyes widened. This wasn't just useful — it was incredible. In a fight, that kind of raw power could change everything.
Then the next line appeared.
[Warning]: Due to current stat levels, Demon Back is locked until Strength and Constitution both reach 15.
"Fuck. Fuck! Fuck, fuck!" Arthur shouted, kicking the cart in frustration — which only earned him a sharp pain in his toe.
He hissed and limped away from it, muttering curses under his breath. The frustration simmered in his chest until he went to grab his water skin, only to find it light and empty. He let out a long sigh.
"Of course," he muttered.
He picked up a torch, held it in the canpfire, and headed off into the forest. The river wasn't far, and the firelight stretched ahead of him as he followed the narrow path between trees. He'd fill the water, maybe cool his head, and then get back to work.
Arthur kept moving through the trees, looking down at the ground as far as the light would let him. He had a lot on his mind, but the main thing wasn't whether he'd be able to complete the quest; it was Harrowfield. Every time his boots crunched over dead leaves, the thoughts of what was coming returned. Myrna had told him she hadn't heard anything more about the Tanners, but that didn't mean nothing was happening. Something was coming, he could feel it.
He wondered if it was even worth going back at all. Everything he was putting himself through right now was for his fathers sake, it was all meant to give his father something, to pay him back for the lost cart, and to keep himself from being cast out entirely. But why? For what? His father wasn't going to treat him differently. There wasn't going to be a moment where Gorman suddenly saw him as his son, he'd likely only see the value in what Arthur could give him. If Arthur put a perfect cart in front of him tomorrow, the man would probably just find something else to complain about.
So why did he stay?
Maybe he was scared to admit the truth. He'd never left Harrowfield in his life. This campsite was the farthest he'd ever been. Before it was understandable why, he didn't have the skills nor the constitution to handle such trips. But now was different. He had the skills now to make a little coin if he needed it, he could handle himself well enough to protect Mira and himself on the road. But the thought of leaving gnawed at him. Here he was a small fish in a small pond, but the moment he left he'd be entering a much larger pond while staying the same size.
The rushing sound of the river grew louder until he broke through the tree line. The moon's reflection shifted in the rippling current. He knelt by the bank, and put his torch down on the ground. His hands hovered over the water skin as he held it in the water. He owed his family nothing. Only Mira. She was the only one worth going back for. He could slip into Harrowfield at night, find her, and take her away before Gorman even knew he was there. The local lord wouldn't care enough to waste coin and manpower sending guards after him. Harrowfield was a speck on the map. They'd barely rate a footnote in the man's day.
That was it then. Fuck Gorman. Fuck the Tanners. He'd finish the quest because the System's rewards were too good to pass up, but he wasn't building anything for them. Once Mira was with him, they were gone.
*Grrrr...*
Arthur froze at the rumbling sound coming from the dark. He slowly pushed himself upright, turning toward the treeline beyond his torchlight.
Two pale points caught the light; eyes reflecting back at him. The shape stepped into view, and his grip tightened on the torch. It was a wolf, though barely more than skin stretched over bone. Its fur was patchy, its ribs sharp enough to count from here, and its legs trembled faintly as it stared at him. A sickly thing, though that didn't make it any less dangerous and based on how it was salivating he was its next meal.
Arthur slid the dagger from his belt slowly. Though taking one look at it almost made him want to die. The edge was dull from shaving wood and prying joints and scraping bark, and he cursed under his breath, but he kept it raised, in this situation he could not afford to be picky. He kept the torch out in front, the flame between him and the wolf, the light shaking as his hand trembled. The wolf bared its teeth and tried to look bigger. It took two short steps forward and snapped at the air. Arthur lunged forward in small jerks, pushing the torch toward its face to drive it back. The fire made it flinch but it did not run. It was too hungry.
"Shit," Arthur said quietly.
The wolf crept right, testing his flank. Arthur turned with it and kept the torch in line. His feet shifted on the stones at the river's edge. Water lapped at his boots. He felt the ground give a little and corrected his stance. The wolf feinted left, then came straight on. Arthur thrust the torch forward. The flame brushed the wolf's muzzle. It's fur singed and the wolf snarled. It swiped a paw and hit the torch hand. The jolt knocked the torch sideways. Arthur held onto it but the angle opened his guard. The wolf lunged. Its jaws snapped for his thigh. Arthur stumbled back and swung the dagger down. The blade hit the wolf's shoulder and skidded along bone without cutting deep. The impact knocked the wolf off line. It landed hard and slid on the wet stones. Arthur stepped in and shoved the burning head of the torch toward its face. The wolf twisted away and scrambled up, lips peeled back to the gums.
Arthur's breath came fast. His hands shook. His mouth went dry. He swallowed and tasted smoke and his own sweat. This was difficult. The wolf was a lot faster than he was and likely stronger. He couldn't use that weird martial art to redirect it, and the dagger wasn't doing enough damage. The wolf circled again, its eyes on the torch. Arthur kept turning. His heel found a loose rock and his ankle wobbled. The wolf saw it and exploded forward. Arthur shoved the torch out. The wolf snapped at the fire and its teeth closed on the torch shaft. The jolt tore the torch from Arthur's hand. It bounced on the stones and rolled toward the water. The flame guttered and shrank but did not go out.
Now the bank was darker and the light weaker, and Arthur's pulse was hammering in his ears. The wolf rushed him through the half-light and he slashed with the dagger, tracing a shallow line across its cheek that bled freely but failed to slow it down. Its head crashed into his thigh with enough force to throw him off balance, and he fell hard onto his hip, the pain flashing up his side before the wolf's teeth sank into his left forearm. He screamed and punched at the skull with his right fist. Bone thudded against knuckles. He punched again. The wolf shook its head and tore skin. Hot blood ran down his wrist and dripped to the stones.
Arthur drove the dagger at the wolf's neck. The dull point met hide and slid. He jammed it again harder and felt it bite an inch. The wolf jerked back and the blade ripped free, leaving a wet line. Arthur yanked his arm away. Teeth scraped and a strip of skin peeled. He rolled to his knees and lunged for the torch. The wolf bounded after him. He grabbed the torch and swung it with all his strength; he managed to slam the torch into the wolf's face, hitting it off course and burning one of its eyes. He steadied himself with one hand on a rock and put the torch between them again.
When the wolf snapped at the fire, he yanked it back and lunged forward, shoving the flame right into its face so the heat and light were unavoidable, but instead of backing off the animal threw itself at him with a wild howl. It hit his chest like a sack of stones and they went down together, the torch flying from his grip and landing on the rocks while the wolf's weight crushed him against the riverbank. Its teeth clamped onto his shoulder and the pain shot through him so sharply he almost dropped the dagger, but he managed to bring it up and stab at its side, the point sliding between ribs on the second thrust and drawing a gush of hot blood that slicked his fingers.
The wolf shook him violently, his back grinding against the stones until he could barely breathe, but he drove the dagger upward under its jaw with both hands until the point found the softer flesh and sank in deeper than before. The wolf yelped and tore away from him, staggering back a step, its neck pumping blood in uneven bursts. Arthur scrambled to his feet with a limp in his step, grabbed the torch from the ground, and swung it into the wolf's jaw with all the strength he could muster again. The impact jarred his hand, his booted foot lashed out in the same motion, and the wolf crumpled to its belly.
Panting so hard his chest felt ready to burst, he planted his heel on its throat and leaned all his weight down, pinning it to the stones while he rammed the dagger into the same wound at the neck. He kept pushing, ignoring the ache in his arms and shoulder, until the struggling slowed and finally stopped.
Only then did he stagger back, almost tripping into the river, catching himself with one knee on the slick stones as his breath rattled in his throat. His forearm was bleeding freely, his shoulder burned, his calf throbbed where the claws had torn scratched him, and his palm felt raw where the torch had scorched him. He bent over the river to wash the blood from his arm, the cold biting hard enough to make him hiss, before tearing a strip of his tunic to bind it. He tied the knot clumsily but tight enough to hold. When the wolf didn't move, even after he nudged it with his boot, he dragged the carcass a little away from the river so the blood wouldn't carry too far downstream, though every few steps made his shoulder feel like it was tearing open again. Only once the wolf was set aside did the familiar ping echo in his mind.
[+5 XP]
Arthur let out a short laugh that was closer to a cough, then he gathered the torch and water skin, and started the long drag back toward camp. When the lean-to came into view, he spotted Myrna sitting stiffly on the log beside the fire. She didn't seem to notice him at first, staring into the flames with her shoulders drawn tight.
"You'll never guess what just tried to take a bite out of me," Arthur said, he stepped into the edge of the firelight. "A wolf. Scrawny thing, but still famn vicious ." He winced and shifted the water skin to his other hand. "You know any medicinal herbs nearby? Could use something to stop to treat the wounds."
She didn't answer. She didn't even look at him. Just sat there, hands clasped together in her lap, the firelight flickering across a face that seemed... tense.
Arthur frowned. "Everything okay?" Still nothing.
He took a step closer, the sound of his boots on the dirt breaking the quiet, but as soon as he did Myrna shook her head quickly, her eyes flicking past him toward the tree line as though warning him of something. He paused, confused but uneasy now. "Myrna, what's wrong? You can tell me," he said as he moved forward again.
Her head snapped toward him. "Don't come any closer, your brother's waiting behind the tree!" she shouted, her voice cracking.
"Stupid bitch!"
The voice was all too familiar. Gregor stepped out from behind the tree like a shadow pulling itself free from the darkness. Before Arthur could react, Gregor's arm shot out and his fist connected with Myrna's cheek. The blow sent her sprawling off the log, hitting the dirt hard. Arthur flinched at the sound of the impact, his jaw tightening as anger surged up, cutting through the ache of his wounds. His eyes locked on Gregor, and the air between them seemed to grow tense.
Gregor smirked as he looked him over. "Well, well, well... it's been a while, baby brother," he said, stepping fully into the firelight. "You sure have taken your sweet time delivering those leathers back home."
Arthur didn't answer at first, his scowl fixed on the man before him. "What are you doing here?" He finally spoke.
Gregor's grin widened as he stepped closer, the firelight catching on the steel of the sword strapped to his belt. "I've come for you, baby brother. You've pissed off Father a great deal. And you've pissed off me. I've had to cancel two ruttings with Sarah Baker because I've been traipsing through this damn forest looking for you."
Arthur let the corner of his mouth curl just enough to show the sarcasm. "Sorry to ruin your get together, how thoughtless of me." He tilted his head. "So what now? You gonna try drag me back to Father?"
Gregor chuckled, low and confident. "I won't be trying, I will be doing. Your little rut with Elsie Tanner has landed our family in deep shit. But Darry Tanner will accept you as compensation. And if it's between that and letting one of those Tanner boys marry Mira... well, I'm sure you can see what I'm going to do."
Arthur's expression shifted instantly, the words hitting harder than anything ever had before. "Father is forcing Mira to marry one of the Tanners?" His stomach knotted and a wave of sickness rolled through him, quickly replaced by a flare of hot anger.
Gregor nodded without a trace of hesitation. "It's either that or half the crop. Now enough talking, let's go, I might be able to make supper if we go fast."
Arthur's scowl deepened. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Fuck you, fuck Garlan, and fuck Father." He spat in a vicious tone.
Gregor's smile vanished in an instant. His hand went to his sword, drawing the steel free with a sharp ring. "You don't want me to use this, baby brother," he said darkly.
Arthur met his glare without flinching. "It's the only way you'd be able to beat me."
Gregor's jaw tightened. "I could beat you with my bare hands in less than five seconds." He boasted.
Arthur knew that his brother had been a sellsword, but he couldn't be that skilled with a sword, especially if he ended up returning here.
[Observe]
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STATUS MENU
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Name: Gregor of Harrowfield
Class: Farmer
Heritage: Stormlands/Valyrian
Age: 20
Level: 5
Unallocated Stat Points: 0
Title(s): [None]
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COMBAT ATTRIBUTES
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Strength: 14
Dexterity: 12
Constitution: 13
Intelligence: 2
Perception: 4
Luck: 3
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PERKS
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[Stormlander Physique]
You are physically stronger and tougher than most people
You can lift more carry more take more hits and stay standing longer
[Hot Temper]
You are quick to anger and likely to start fights over small things
You get a small bonus to intimidation but often make situations worse
[Womaniser]
You are naturally confident around women and often flirt without thinking
You have a higher chance of success in casual charm interactions but a lower chance of forming stable relationships
[Coward]
You bully the weak but shy away from anyone stronger
Loud when safe, silent when threatened
[Quick Shot]
Whether from overexcitement, poor pacing, or sheer lack of practice, you finish far too quickly during love-making. Results in disappointment, awkward silences, and occasional laughter.
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SKILLS
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[Farming] (45/100) (Adept)
[Swordsmanship] (4/100) (Apprentice)
[Brawling] (88/100) (Apprentice)
[Hunting] (40/100) (Novice)
[Archery] (20/100) (Novice)
[Tracker] (50/100) (Novice)
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BACKGROUND
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Second son of Gormon and Elyse, and brother to Garlan, Arthur, and Mira. Gregor grew up confident in his size, looks, and moderate skill with a sword, convinced he was destined for knighthood. He left home to be a sellsword, but fled at the first sight of real battle, returning to Harrowfield in disgrace. He now works the farm, bullies the weak, and resents Arthur as of late, he secretly fears may become everything he failed to be.
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'Fuck... maybe he isn't lying, he has double his current strength and his Constitution isn't anything to sneeze at either,' he thought while staring his brother down.
Gregor's gaze shifted and he spotted the wooden swords Arthur had made lying nearby. A smirk returned to his face. "Let's see how good you are then, Ser Arthur," he said mockingly as he picked one up and tossed it toward him.
Arthur reached for it, but his grip was clumsy, and the sword slipped from his hand to the dirt. Gregor laughedbloudly which annoyed Arthur to no end. 'Damn clumsy hands perk...'
"This is going to be easy," he said as he swung the wooden blade a few times to test its balance.
He stepped forward, the firelight dancing over both of them. "Let's go."
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[New Quest Received]
BROTHER'S DUE
Description:
Gregor has been running his mouth long enough. He thinks he's untouchable. Time to prove him wrong.
Objective:
– Force Gregor to surrender
Bonus Objectives:
– Score the first hit
– Disarm him
Rewards:
– [Skill Upgrade]: Swordsmanship
– +1 Otherworld Token
– 50 XP
Failure:
– Dragged and handed over to the Tanners
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"Let's go..." Arthur muttered as he gripped the wooden sword.
(AN: So my boy Arthur has fought his first enemy and discovered that killing things gives XP. He has also ran into his brother and will now fight him. We are coming to the end of our tutorial here boys, soon Arthur is gonna be heading out into the work and making his fortune. Anyway let me know in the comments any skills or items or anything you might want to see. Keep in mind I'm trying to keep it relatively low fantasy.)
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