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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: 2
Title(s): [None]
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COMBAT ATTRIBUTES
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• Strength: 10
• Dexterity: 5
• Constitution: 11 (+15%)
• Intelligence: 3
• Perception: 4
• Luck: 4
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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 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
[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.
[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.
[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.
[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] (Locked)
The secret to a powerful strike lies in the back. Your musculature forms 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.
Requirement: Strength 15, Constitution 15
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SKILLS
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[Observe]
[Carpentry] (0/100) (Apprentice)
[Conditioning] (15/100) [+15% Constitution]
└─ Recovery (Sub-skill)
[Novacaine] (5/100)
[Cooking] (10/100) (Novice)
[Tracker] (8/100) (Legendary)
[Axe Mastery] (49/100) (Novice)
[Carnal Knowledge] (2/100) (Novice)
[Shibukawa-ryū Jujutsu] (22/100) (Novice)
[Lumbering] (55/100) (Novice)
[Falling Star Style] (7/100) (Apprentice)
[Herbal Insight] (Unique)
[Horse Riding] (10/100) (Novice)
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Arthur sat by the fire a few hours after his father's death. He had pulled himself together enough to think clearly. The body lay nearby in the shadows. Arthur realized this would cause problems. The Tanners would arrive soon. They would find the corpse. Word would spread to the lord. No one would believe Arthur's side of the story. They would be hunted as murderers and kinslayers.
He needed to dispose of the body. He had no tools to dig with. Even if he buried it, a hound could smell it. They were not close enough to the river to drag the body there. Even if they did, it might wash up somewhere. They lacked time to cremate him properly.
Arthur looked at Mira. She sat beside him with her knees drawn up. "We have to figure out what to do with him," Arthur said.
Mira glanced at the body. Her face paled. "Maybe we can explain to the local lord. Tell him Father attacked first. It was self-defense."
Arthur shook his head. "The lord won't care. He'll do what's easiest. He'll listen to the crowd, not us. We're just peasants, children. The others will demand our blood and the Lord won't care enough not to give it to them, he'll listen to the majority."
Mira bit her lip. She wanted to argue. But she knew he was right. The lord would side with the angry villagers over them. "You're right," she admitted in a quiet voicre. "What do we do then?" Mira asked. She looked at him with worry in her eyes. While it was a great relief their father was no longer a problem, the worry that this act would tear them away from each other again tore at her.
Arthur thought for a moment. He stared at the trees around them, while they couldn't bury him without wild animals digging them up... perhaps. "We can bury him beneath the roots of a tree and then cover it with stones. That way no animals will dig him up or so I hope," he said, before looking back at his father's tracks. "I'll go follow father's footsteps back to the river and erase them, I'll put his shoes on and make some false tracks and lead them on a false trail."
Mira considered his plan. "Do you think it will work?"
Arthur sighed. "I don't know. But it's the only thing we can do." He had tried putting the corpse in his inventory earlier. The system had given him a message. It said inventory could only hold token-acquired items. Which is was a shame as it could've easily dealt with all their problems, even if it had been a little hard to explain to Mira.
After settling on their plan, they worked in silence. Arthur dragged the body to a tree where thick roots rose from the ground like ribs, leaving a hollow between them. Mira dropped to her knees, scooping away soil with her hands, while Arthur shifted the heavier clumps aside with his father's axe. Once they had made a deep enough hole they lowered the body into the shallow space, after which they filled it back up with dirt, though before they put the last piece of dirt over his body, Arthur touched him one last time. Not for any sentimental reasons, but because he could finally get rid of the [Weak Stomach] he'd been cursed with since being here. 'At least he was finally good for something.' He thought to himself.
Arthur then began stacking stones from the clearing, one after another, until the dirt beneath was hidden. Mira brought more rocks, layering them until the mound blended with the roots and undergrowth. When they finally stepped back, the place looked no different from the rest of the forest floor.
Arthur stood back. He wiped sweat from his brow. "That should hold for now."
Mira nodded. She took his hand. "Let's hope so."
"Destroy the camp and try to cover that we were here, I'm going to go erase our tracks," he told her. He fetched a fallen bough and swept it across the dirt, erasing what marks he could, then scattered leaves and pine needles to hide the rest. He retraced their path carefully, masking every sign of passage until even he would have struggled to follow it. It took a while but by the time he was done he was sure that it would take them quite a while to find this place, and that's if they had a decent tracker.
Arthur returned to the grove where Mira had broken down the camp in his absence. She had scattered the fire's ashes and buried the embers under dirt. They had no belongings apart from what was on them when they went into the river. When he walked inside, he helped out with the rest and corrected a few mistakes, in another 20 minutes they were done and they could finally leave.
"We need to get going if we want to be far from here before the others arrive," Arthur said. He glanced at the spot where their father's body lay hidden beneath the roots of the tree one last time. In truth after the shock had worn away he didn't feel guilty about what he had done. His father was a monster if Arthur had not gotten the system there was a good chance that he would've died under his father's care even if he hadn't gotten sick. Things would've always ended this way.
Mira nodded. She took his hand revelling in the feeling of its warmth. "Let's go," she said offering him a smile as she spoke.
They walked into the forest without looking back. The shadows grew deeper with each step, and soon the trees swallowed the last of the light from the moon. Stars blinked into view above them, scattered between the black leaves. The night was cold, and the wind moved through the branches with a queit thrum. Arthur led the way without speaking. As they walked he chose winding paths and narrow trails, always looking ahead, never letting himself slow. He did not think anyone would come after them, but he walked as if someone would. Mira stayed close behind him doing her best to keep up, though her feet were bare and already sore. She did not speak up about it as she didn't want to cause Arthur anymore undue stress.
As the hours passed, the cold began to bite through their clothes. Arthur felt his wounds with every step. The bandages Mira had tied grew damp with sweat and blood, and the pain deepened as the hours passed. He gritted his teeth and kept moving. Mira's dress chafed her skin until it stung, yet she would not ask to stop. She watched Arthur's back and matched his pace, holding herself form because she feared that if she faltered he would falter too.
The moon rose high. Owls called from hidden branches and the leaves whispered in the wind. Arthur did not hear them as other men might. He listened for what did not belong: the sound of men following, the crack of a branch beneath a boot, even the lack of sound which might indicate a predator. Mira noticed his head turn at every noise, his shoulders tightening and then settling again. She knew he was searching for danger and she trusted him to find it before it found them.
Both of them were exhausted whenm Dawn finally came and the forest brightened in thin streaks of pale light. Arthur's stride grew shorter with each step, yet he pressed on without pause. Mira followed him, her body heavy and her eyes burning from the long night without rest. When the sun rose fully the air grew warmer, but Arthur walked as though the change of day meant nothing.
It was close to noon when he guided her to a pond hidden among the trees. Arthur lowered himself onto a flat rock beside the water and released a long breath through clenched teeth. Mira sat down next to him and placed her feet into the pond. The shock of the cold water made her gasp, but the ache in her soles eased as she let them rest in the shallows. Arthur reached into his pouch and drew out a strip of dried meat. He held it out to her, and when she took it she stared at it for a moment before she raised it to her mouth and began to chew.
Mira shifted closer to him on the rock. She leaned into his side and wrapped her arms around his waist. She hugged him tightly, pressing her body against his as if seeking reassurance in his warmth. Arthur felt the softness of her curves molding to him. He set the meat aside and hugged her back, his arms encircling her shoulders. He held her close, feeling her heartbeat against his chest.
"I love you," Mira whispered softly.
"I love you too," Arthur replied.
She stayed like that for a while, her head resting on his shoulder, her breathing slowing as the tension from the long walk eased. The pond's surface rippled gently in the breeze, and the distant calls of birds filled the air. Mira finally lifted her head, her eyes meeting his. "What do we do now?" she asked, her tone laced with uncertainty.
Arthur considered her question for a moment. "I'm not sure how far we went downriver, but there should be a few villages nearby. I can pick up a trail and follow it to the nearest town. After that, I'll try to get some coin."
"How?" Mira asked, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Maybe sell Father's axe," Arthur said, holding it up for her to see. The blade caught the sunlight, its edge still sharp despite the bloodstains. "It's good steel. A blacksmith will take it for a few coppers. Then I'll get us both some clothes and some food."
Mira looked at the axe, then back at him. "Will you have enough coin for that?"
"Don't worry," Arthur replied. "I'll make do." He looked around the glade, noting the shelter of the trees and the absence of any threatening sounds. "This place is safe enough. You should get some rest."
Mira shook her head. "You need to rest too. You're exhausted, Arthur. I can see it."
Arthur gave her a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. I'm going to try and pick up that trail. You keep your strength up."
She searched his face, worry etching her features. "But you're hurt. What if something happens?"
He leaned in and kissed her on the lips, the contact brief but tender. "I'll be careful. Get some sleep I'll be back soon."
Mira nodded reluctantly, her eyes lingering on him as he stood and walked into the trees. He walked deeper into the forest, the leaves crunching softly under his boots as he put distance between himself and the pond where Mira rested. The air was cool as the trees blocked out the sun, and for the first time since their escape, Arthur allowed himself a moment to breathe without the weight of immediate danger pressing down. His body ached from the long march and his numerous injuries luckily [Recovery] helped him heal quicker so his wounds wouldn't get worse. The quiet also gave him space to think about the rewards he had earned from the quests. He might as well use them now. Anything that could help their situation was worth checking.
He focused on the [Random Item] reward first.
Ping.
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[ITEM ACQUIRED]
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Doyen's Growth Pills
Each pill increases height by 1 cm.
There are 100 pills in the vial.
Warning: Not recommended for individuals under 20 years old.
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Arthur turned the vial over in his palm, the pills rattling faintly inside. It wasn't helpful right now. Growing taller wouldn't stop their brothers or the Tanners if they caught up. But he considered his slight frame and how it had always held him back in fights and labor. This could improve his build over time, make him stronger. He decided to hold onto it.
He tucked the vial into his pouch and turned to the Otherworld Token.
The familiar wheel appeared, spinning in his vision. Dozens of options flashed past in rapid succession until the wheel slowed, the ticking sound echoing in his head.
Click.
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[TRAIT ACQUIRED]
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Disney Princess
An elite trait. You are loved by all animals, even beasts of a magical nature will not deign to harm you.
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Arthur stared at the description. "Okay not what I was expecting," he mutturer to himself. He didn't know what Disney was, but he knew what a princess was, not that he wanted to be one. Though practically speaking It was useful in a world full of wild creatures and potential dangers on the road. Wolves, bears, even stray dogs wouldn't bother him. But he didn't need it he had ways to defend himself, however Mira might be able to make use of it. She was vulnerable without him, and this could give her protection if they ever separated. He felt better knowing he could pass it to her. Though he wished for something more direct, like a fighting ability to give her alongside it. Still, this was better than nothing.
He'd gift it to her the next time he saw her.
He dismissed the glowing text and pressed on through the forest, his steps lighter now. The trees thinned slightly ahead, and as he scanned the ground, his eyes caught fresh disturbances in the dirt... new tracks.
Arthur followed the tracks through the underbrush until they led him to a worn dirt road, the kind carved by years of carts and travelers and maintained by the crown. He paused at the edge, scanning both directions, the path stretched left toward distant hills and right into a gentle curve lined with thinning trees. He chose right, stepping onto the road and making his way past the thinning trees.
The walk stretched on for hours, the forest gradually giving way to open fields dotted with wildflowers and the occasional farmhouse in the distance. Birds wheeled overhead, and Arthur's thoughts drifted to Mira, he wondered if she saw him differently after killing their father, even if Gormon was never good to him he still treated her like a princess. 'I hope not...' he thought to himself.
By mid-afternoon, the road widened further, and ahead loomed the outline of a large town; timber walls rising around clustered buildings, smoke curling from chimneys. He entered through the open gate, his injuries drawing immediate stares, as his tunic torn and bloodstained, as well as bruises covering his arms and face. He also had a limp in his step from the fight with his father made worse by the long march. People whispered as he passed, farmers pausing with their carts, a woman clutching her child's hand tighter, a group of men by a well turning to mutter among themselves. "Looks like he tangled with a wolf," one said softly. "Or worse, bandits, maybe," another replied.
A few steps further, three men approached him. A burly hunter with a bow slung over his shoulder, flanked by two locals in simple tunics. "You alright there, stranger?" the hunter asked, eyeing Arthur's wounds. "Look like you've been through seven hells."
Arthur forced a weary smile, wiping sweat from his brow. "My wife and I were attacked by wolves on the road. We're both okay, but I came for some help, perhaps some clothes and supplies."
The hunter's eyes narrowed slightly, crossing his arms. "Wolves, eh? I'm Harlan, town hunter here. Tell me more, where'd this happen? How many? We don't get packs bold enough to attack travelers often."
Arthur shrugged, keeping his tone casual. "Not sure, it happened fast, in the woods a ways back. Three or four, I think. We fought them off, but it was close."
The men exchanged glances, suspicion flickering in their eyes, likely seeing the holes in Arthur's story. "You don't look like you're from around here," one said. "We don't want no strangers bringing trouble here," he said fircely
Arthur nodded. "I'm not looking for trouble. I just want to sell my axe, buy some fresh clothes and food, then head back to my wife."
They relented a little, the hunter uncrossing his arms. "Fair enough, don't let anyone say Harlan doesn't follow the Mothers Mercy. Smithy's down the main road, past the inn, it's a big forge, can't miss it. And there's a trough by the well if you want to clean up first."
Arthur thanked them, and they went about their business, though he felt their eyes on his back as he walked away. In hindsight, he probably should've cleaned himself up in the pond, but he hadn't wanted to ruin the drinking water they had. He headed to the trough first, a wooden basin by a well in the town square. He put his hands in splashed it over his face and arms, scrubbing away the worst of the blood and grime until the water ran pink. His reflection in the basin showed a battered man, but at least he looked less like he'd crawled from a grave.
He dried his hands on his tunic and made his way to the smithy, the clang of hammer on anvil guiding him. Smoke billowed from the open forge, and inside, a broad-shouldered man with a soot-streaked beard hammered a horseshoe. Arthur cleared his throat. "Afternoon. You the smith?"
The man paused, wiping his brow with a rag, his eyes appraising Arthur's state. "That I am. Name's Torrhen. What can I do for you, lad? Look like you've seen better days."
Arthur pulled the axe from his belt, holding it out. "Looking to sell this. Good steel, holds an edge well. What'll you give me for it?"
Torrhen took the axe, turning it over in his hands, testing the balance with a swing, then running a thumb along the blade. "Decent work, I'll grant you. Not new, but solid. Where'd you get it?"
"Took it from my family farm when I left it with my wife, incase we ran into any bandits," Arthur said. "Need the coin more than the axe now."
Torrhen nodded slowly. "Aye, I can see that. I'll give you a a Copper Stars for it."
Arthur frowned. "A copper star ? It's worth at least five. The head's iron, but the edge is folded steel, holds sharp through wood or bone."
Torrhen chuckled. "You know your metal, boy. But it's nicked here, see? And the handle's worn. Three copper stars, take it or leave it."
"Four," Arthur countered. "I've got a wife waiting, and we need supplies. You won't find better for the price."
Torrhen scratched his beard, eyeing Arthur again. "You're a hard bargainer. Alright, four copper stars."
Arthur held out his hand. "Deal."
Torrhen counted out the coins, dropping them into Arthur's palm. "Pleasure doing business."
Arthur pocketed the money. "Thanks. Any idea where I can I buy some clothing around here?"
Torrhen jerked his thumb down the road. "Seamstress is two doors down, old Widow Lira. She does decent work"
"Thank you." Arthur nodded and followed the blacksmith's directions down the main road, the clang of the forge fading behind him as he passed a few more stores; a baker's with the warm scent of fresh loaves wafting out, a tanner's stall displaying hides stretched on frames. The town was modest though a good deal bigger than Harrowfield. A few heads turned his way again, noting the stranger with the battered look. He ignored them, focusing on the building ahead.
He stepped inside, noting how it didn't look that different from a home. Though a wooden counter stood at the back, behind which an older woman worked, her fingers deftly stitching a hem on a simple tunic. She looked up, her grey hair tied back in a bun. "Afternoon," she said, setting her needle down. "What can I do for you?"
Arthur approached the counter. "I'm looking for some clothes. Simple stuff, tunics, breeches, maybe a dress or two. Nothing fancy, just sturdy."
Lira eyed him up and down, noting the tears in his tunic and the dried bloodstains he hadn't fully washed out. "You look like you've had a rough go of it. Bandits?"
"Wolves," Arthur replied, keeping it short. "My wife's in a similar state. We're both in need of new clothing."
Lira nodded without prying further, standing from her stool with a slight creak in her knees. "Alright, let's see what I have. For you—medium build, I'd say. I've got wool breeches here, reinforced at the knees, good for travel. And a linen tunic, undyed but clean. Belt included. That'll run you a copper star."
Arthur glanced at the items she pulled from a shelf, plain but well-made. "And for her? She's about this tall," he said, holding his hand at Mira's height, "curvy build. Needs something comfortable, easy to move in."
Lira rummaged through a rack of hanging garments, pulling out a simple dress in faded blue cotton, loose at the sleeves and hemmed to mid-calf. "This should fit a fuller figure. Bodice laces up the front for adjustment. I've also got undergarments too, shift and smallclothes. Another copper star for the lot."
Arthur frowned. "Two copper stars for everything?" he asked. "That's steep for basics."
Lira crossed her arms, her expression firm but not unkind. "Times are hard. Wool's from my own sheep, but feed costs more every season. The dress alone took a day to stitch. A star and a half, and that's me being generous."
Arthur shook his head. "A star even. We're not staying long, just passing through. I can mend my own if needed, but I just need the dress for my wife."
She sighed, glancing out the window at the emptying street. "Fine, a star even. But only because you look like you need it more than I need the coin today."
Arthur counted out the copper star and placed it on the counter. "Thank you."
Lira bundled the clothes into a cloth sack and handed it over. "Safe travels. Watch for more wolves, I've heard reports of packs getting bold near the river."
He nodded and left the shop, and looked up at the sky. The sun hung lower now, casting long shadows, and the town felt quieter. He headed to the general store next door, the sign creaking in the breeze. Inside, the shelves were stocked with dried meats, hard breads, cheeses, and travel gear..
"Afternoon," the shopkeeper said. "Need something?"
Arthur set the sack down. "Travel food for two, dried meat, bread, cheese, enough for a few days. Also a traveling pack and a bedroll."
The man gathered the items: a bundle of salted beef strips, two loaves of hard bread, a small wheel of cheese, and a handful of dried apples. "This'll hold you four days if you're sparing. That's six pennies."
Arthur eyed the pile. It seemed fair. The man added a sturdy leather pack with reinforced straps and a rolled wool bedroll. "Pack's good for the road, won't tear easy. Bedroll's thick against the cold. Four pennies for both."
"Ten pennies total?" Arthur asked. "Can you do eight? We've had a rough journey, wolves took our horse and gear."
The man scratched his chin. "Nine pennies, and that's me being kind. Can't go lower without losing coin myself."
Arthur nodded and counted out nine copper pennies, placing them on the counter. The man swept them into his till and bundled the food into the pack, handing over the bedroll separately. "Safe roads to you."
Arthur thanked him and left, the pack now on his back, the bedroll under his arm. He made his way back through the town, the sun dipping lower, and headed into the forest toward the pond where Mira waited.
(AN: Ngl bit of a boring chapter, but it felt like I couldn't just skip stuff like this, well I guess I could, but idk I just felt like this was importent. Anyway next chapter will be more interesting. Going Kings landing boyssssss).
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