Jennifer

Royal Road

SomethingOtherThanRain

Blacksmith vs. the System by Dirk Grey

Chapter 5

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We arrived at the camp at dawn. As much as I hated the necessity to keep my eyes open more than necessary, I forced myself, trying to catch the important details. It was smaller than I expected. A wooden palisade around about twenty wooden buildings, surrounded by double the amount of tents. Also, there was quite a bit of empty space.

The number of guards I could see on the wall was less than I had expected. I could only count a dozen on each wall, each armed with bows, but the safety of the camp suggested that they were stronger than our town guards.

Even from such a great distance, the quality of their armor was apparent, and each of them were marked with a stylized griffin. I hoped that it was a guild, and not one of the new houses that was popping out, quick to declare themselves as nobles.

Three years had passed since the Cataclysm, and the political situation was still in flux.

The rest of the camp was barely stirring into movement. A quick estimation suggested that there were about three hundred people currently in the camp, including the guards. Less than I expected considering the size of the camp. I assumed that they were at the dungeon.

That was all I was able to assess until the vertigo hit, forcing me to close my eyes once more. I had fought against monsters many times, but still, heights were my greatest enemy.

"Finally, we're here," Maria called loudly as we landed, stretching her legs. Eleanor helped me to step down. I appreciated her help. I doubted that I would have been able to do so without help. "Hey, are you alright?" Maria asked, noticing my state.

"Just a cramp. It's my first time riding a griffin," I replied, doing my best to be calm and collected. I failed. Luckily, Maria didn't care about me enough to pay attention to why I was reacting like that. "Eleanor, let's go. Father expects a report."

"Just a minute. Let me show Devon his workshop first," she said. Maria didn't look happy. "The sooner he settles, the sooner he starts working. We need sharpened weapons to move deeper. We're running low," she said.

"Alright, but don't waste too much time. We still need to lead the team to the dungeon," she said before moving to the central building.

While Eleanor led me toward another building, I looked around, trying to catch the movements. "Anything I need to know," I asked. "We haven't been able to talk a lot."

"There's nothing too exciting," she said. "It's a lower-tier dungeon, populated with some kind of giant beetle with thick armor. Fire magic would have been a good way to deal with them, but the mana density prevents it from being a sustainable solution. But, they have several weak spots. Sharpened weapons are the most efficient method of taking them down."

"Ah," I said. Suddenly, I understood the reason for the good contract. Sharpened weapons were cheap — compared to other enchanted weapons, still starting somewhere around fifty silver at a minimum for second-hand ones — and useful, but their durability was their biggest problem. "Their shell degrades the weapon even more, right," I asked.

"Worse. They have some kind of secretion that ruins the edge," she replied. "Even with multiple weapons assigned to each person, it goes slowly. And, we can't keep going to the nearest town for repairs either."

Understandable, as even with a flying mount, travel wasn't exactly easy. We didn't struggle against monsters because Maria was strong enough to deal with them easily. However, it wasn't exactly smart to assign the top combatant to logistic work.

Especially when there was a limit to the carrying capacity of the griffins.

"I see," I replied, considering the implication. The fact that the edge was the part that was being damaged was good news. It was far easier to sharpen a new edge than repair structural damage, which meant that I would be making even more on bonuses than I had initially expected. "How about my work… The contract outlines my job requirements, but nothing else."

"You're going to join our team of blacksmiths. We currently have six capable of repairing enchanted weapons, each with both Analyze and Warm Blow. Seven with your inclusion. There's also a dozen other apprentices that are working hard to raise their Repair over twenty-five with some disposable weapons so they could join the main work."

I frowned, wondering whether I should mention that I didn't have [Warm Blow] yet, which was a perk that allowed the blacksmiths to repair the enchanted weapons without heating it too much, as it had the risk of destabilizing the enchantment. Then, I decided against it.

There was no mention of the perk in the contract, and I could fix the weapon without it. No need to give them useless information that could change their mind. People had weird expectations when it came to Stats and Skills, seemingly determined to ignore that we were not robots, and could easily surpass their limits.

The lack of Warm Blow didn't mean I couldn't keep up with the others. It would be some help, but even without it, I could keep up with the performance requirements outlined in the contract easily. All the tricks I figured out during the three years I spent working overtime were enough. All I needed was to be careful about the heat.

I didn't rely entirely on the instincts fed to me by the skills.

In the end, I decided to stay silent. In the worst case, I could focus on bringing my Repair Skill to the next level. It should take only a few days as long as I was willing to ruin some weapons.

Eleanor continued to talk, giving me a quick tour of the camp while I watched. "And, this is the forge, where you'll be working —" she started, only to freeze.

I assumed the reason was the tall, armored man at the center of the room. He was decked in full plate armor. On his chest, there was the symbol of a griffin like the guards, but it was far more intricate. All of it identified him as a high-ranking member of the same group, but another thing commanded my attention. One that was radiating an aura that demanded respect and adulation.

Charisma.

I cursed internally. Of all the stats that were brought by the System, I hated Charisma the most. On the battlefield, it worked wonders, allowing people to fight with a greater focus and coordinate better. In social life, it was disgusting. It was like an airborne drug.

Luckily, it was a pretty rare stat, and none that possessed it deigned to live in a small town, making sure I never had to deal with them.

Even without my own prejudices relating to the existence of Charisma wielders, I could sense that he was bad news from Eleanor's reaction. Up until now, she had given me the impression of a kind, affable woman despite her very obvious power.

The moment she saw him, her attitude changed, radiating a dark, dangerous feeling. It was like I was standing next to a giant sword, ready to spill blood. "Sir Thomas, how can this servant help you?" she said, but I had heard people less frustrated being thrown into the garbage. She didn't bother hiding her hatred.

"Is this the way a retainer should act, Eleanor? Why aren't you on your knees?" he said, his smile mocking. His Charisma turned even more pointed, focusing on Eleanor. Her legs trembled, but she resisted it.

I took a step back, not willing to be affected. I hated the impact of Charisma, especially since the level difference made it very difficult to resist.

"As the sworn sword of Lady Maria, it's not appropriate, my lord," she replied.

Thomas smiled. "How fun," he said. "I wonder how long you'll be able to resist until you beg for me to save you from your grievous mistake."

"This humble servant doesn't deserve your concerns, my lord," she replied. As I watched them absentmindedly, I couldn't help but be fascinated by the way culture had changed in merely three years. Centuries of traditions relating to democracy and equality had been abandoned, replaced by a mockery of tribal politics, often with a cursory veneer of medieval nobility.

I never understood how such a drift could happen in less than a year, which was another reason I had been so enthusiastic about joining the rare research institutes that were finally popping around — only to fail.

Thomas smirked, no doubt about to follow up with another subtle insult, but his expression changed when Eleanor grabbed her sword. "Don't worry, Eleanor. We're old friends. I'm just worried about my dear cousin, and wanted to see if I can help any."

"She's busy, and she doesn't want to see you," Eleanor replied. "But, feel free to visit and see if she changes her mind."

"Oh, what a pity," he said, his smugness back. "I'll just deal with my mission and leave, then," he said.

"Your mission," Eleanor asked.

"Yes. The family council honored me with an emergency mission of protecting one of the trade routes. And, I'm here to get the necessary resources."

Eleanor froze as he passed her a sealed envelope. "No. That's against the deal. We have been promised no interference."

"From our side of the family, and we fulfilled it. We can't help it if the family council assigned me with a critical mission that's more important than a mere dungeon's subjugation." He smirked as he looked at the blacksmith. "Anyone employed directly by the family, follow me. You have your orders," he said.

I watched from the side as the majority of the employees had left the room, leaving only five behind.

Eleanor followed them, panicked, and the rest of the blacksmiths followed her, no doubt wanting to leave.

I considered following them but decided against it. I had no idea what would happen, but there were two options. Either the operation was dead, or it would continue. If it continued, getting familiar with the workshop and the weapons would be useful.

And, if the operation was dead, I better repair a few weapons. Maybe I could push Repair to the next rank before they kick me out.

After all, even if they failed, the dungeon wouldn't disappear. Another team would establish a new camp, where I could work.

Either way, it was better than watching a pointless competition between a bunch of rich kids to finalize.

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Royal Road

SomethingOtherThanRain

Blacksmith vs. the System by Dirk Grey

Chapter 6

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Decision made, I ignored the shouts outside as I focused on examining the forge. A forge that was far more expensive than the ones I had ever worked in.

The first thing that caught my attention was the fire at the center, spilling out of the forge. I walked closer, feeling its extreme heat even from a distance, far more intense than I was used to working with. Still, I walked to the edge, letting the heat wash over me.

[-1 Health]

It was too much for me to resist all day. At least, not without adding a few more levels first.

Still, I stayed at the center, watching the golden flickers dance in the fire, trying to understand the reason for the intensity. Only to realize that the fire was eating the fuel at a shocking speed. Likely, it was some kind of enchantment to enable a higher heat.

It was fascinating to attain such a high degree of heat in an open fire. I took a step back even as I started examining the forge. It was both plain and flawless, which marked it as another product of the System store. I didn't even want to imagine how much it had cost.

I turned my attention to the anvils and the other tools, using the Analyze to get a better sense of their enchantment. I couldn't identify them without working on a lot of similar samples, but the sheer number of enchantments was enough to prove their quality.

"Troublesome," I muttered even as I continued to check the room. They had spent a serious amount of capital on the forge, the kind that I hadn't ever seen. No wonder Rosie was willing to make a big deal with them.

It was a tumultuous situation, the kind where a wrong move could cost me my life. The prudent thing would be to keep my head down and get away… but then what? What did prudence give me other than being discarded and ignored?

I could probably keep my head down until the operation ended up in failure, but I would find myself in the same situation. With each passing day, the value of my class was getting lower and lower. Yes, a political battle within one of the upstart new so-called noble houses was dangerous, the kind that could end up in my death.

But, that was a valid concern for every expedition.

The rewards, however …

"No risk it, no biscuit," I muttered even as I grabbed one of the unused hammers, far better than my own poor tool that doubled as a weapon. As I twirled it in my hand, I moved to the side, where a shockingly large pile of damaged weapons laid. The pile had hundreds of weapons, while a connected room held even more.

However, as I hovered above the pile, a sour smell hit my nose, coming from some of the weapons that hadn't been cleaned properly. I ignored it momentarily and picked from one of the clean weapons.

The weapon I had pulled was some kind of short sword that was reminiscent of a thicker gladius as I closed my eyes and focused my Analyze ability, examining its inner structure.

Even without Eleanor's earlier explanation, I could understand the reason for it. While it had some structural cracks that limited the impact of the Sharpness enchantment, it was nowhere near enough to turn the weapons useless.

No, that honor went to the edge, worn out as if it was dipped into a vat of acid. Though, curious, I touched one of the unclean ones, wondering why they kept them so tainted. But, I saw that they weren't more damaged than the clean ones.

The impact wasn't as simple as the blood being acidic, but I shrugged. Each monster had its own unique problems, and while I would have enjoyed pondering about it, I was mature enough to admit that it was more of an intellectual curiosity than a practical concern.

I didn't need to care about the political crisis that was going on, or the way those monsters degraded the sharp edges of the weapons. I just needed to focus on my job.

For the moment, I needed to start repairing. I walked back to the forge, letting the heat wash over the magical metal. I closed my eyes, using [Analyze] to keep track of the heating process. I ignored the heat brushing against my skin, and let the System do its thing.

[-1 Health]

"Fascinating," I muttered as I watched the process of the metal reaching the ideal temperature for reforging. In my old forge, it would have required twenty minutes for the edges to heat up enough without destabilizing the enchantment.

It would have been easier with the [Warm Blow], but lack of it wasn't a bother. It was all about the timing. I pulled out the weapon, ignoring my skill's instinctual suggestion to keep it in the flames longer, knowing that it would warp and weaken the enchantment.

I used my hammer instead of one of the better tools lying around. Not because of a sense of nostalgia, but to avoid introducing too many variables. With a practiced ease, I started hammering the edge, careful not to distort the enchantment even as I destroyed the edge completely.

If the damage to the edge was lesser, some sharpening would have been enough, but not with this. I ignored the next step my skill was suggesting, which was to add more metal to bring the weapon to its ideal weight. It would help, but it would also increase the work time almost ten times.

Especially without [Warm Blow] to keep it going, forcing me to continuously heat up the metal to keep it searing and soft without turning molten.

Ordinarily, I could never get away with such a shortcut, even though it would make absolutely no difference. The moment even a new Blacksmith touched it, their [Repair] skill would trigger to inform that it was not correctly repaired, and I would have a reputation for shoddy work.

No one really cared about acceptable performance degradation.

I was hoping that my new employers would have a more open mind. They were dealing with a monster that destroyed multiple weapons a day. A faster repair should have been a more than acceptable tradeoff.

Assuming, of course, their operation continued, but that was a different problem.

I let my skill guide me as I delivered blow after blow, achieving a smoothness that I could never achieve in its absence. I might not want to follow its suggestions religiously, but that didn't mean it was useless.

Especially since it was hard to truly use the Stats productively without the assistance of the skills.

I started humming even as my hammer landed again and again, reshaping the distorted metal that had been degraded by the acid, only stopping to heat the metal.

Forty-five minutes later, I moved away from the grinding stone, having just developed a new edge. I ignored the niggling of my skill at the back of my mind, repeating that it was not completely fixed. It was like leaving the house without turning off the oven. A constant annoyance.

Unpleasant, but considering I was able to finish the work in fifteen minutes when the contract required me to sharpen merely six weapons a day to start earning bonuses, more than acceptable. The clean whistle of the sword was only possible with a working Sharpening enchantment. Who cared what the Repair skill said?

I just needed to convince my new employers of that fact.

Taking a break was tempting, especially since the heat had been punishing. Even using Health to recover, it left my skin raw and tingling. It was not pleasant. However, I didn't have such a luxury.

I grabbed a new weapon. It was time for another experiment, to see how much improvement the new tools would bring.

Once again, the benefits of the Repair reduced the adaptation period significantly. The first attempt took slightly more than half an hour. The second one shaved a few extra minutes. By the sixth, I was able to maintain a steady pace to bang down one at the twenty-minute mark, and that was with several breaks I used to check the new process.

Without them, a steady pace of fifteen minutes was doable.

I decided to impress my employers. I started repairing one after another, the metal gleaming with a healthy sheen under my consistent blows. It was fun, steady work — one that would have been much better without the constant push at the back of my head.

It was already noon when I had a visitor. Eleanor was back, with an exhausted expression on her face. An expression that shifted to wonder and shock the moment she noticed the number of weapons that were waiting for her. "What's going on?" she asked, tense.

"I'm working hard to earn my bonus, of course," I said, trying to add some levity to the situation. It didn't work. "Since someone just took away all the experts, I decided to see if I can find a way to go faster," I explained.

"How. I thought you only had Repair."

"Well, yes," I said. "Before I explain, check the weapons first and see if they are properly fixed," I said. I didn't want to explain what I did before she checked the results directly, not wanting to prejudice her. It was a very critical part of any experiment that required subjective assessment.

She frowned as she tested the weapons one by one, with a slight frown on her face as she assessed them. Yet, the clean whistle of the sword was unmistakable. "It feels alright," she admitted. "Now, explain."

"I used some shortcuts that don't exactly follow the Skill completely, so, technically, they are not completely repaired." She said nothing, but her expression shifted from affable and confused to sharp. It would have scared me, but against Thomas, she had been much scarier.

I gave her a detailed summary of the process, which mollified her somewhat, but she also looked confused. "Looks promising," she said even as she took five swords. "Follow me, we're going to explain it to Lady Maria."

I followed her with a sigh. I hoped that the redhead wouldn't be too frustrating.

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