Time seemed to fly after the incident at the orphanage, and a few days after the incident Arthur found that he had recovered fully from the wounds that had kept him in bed for so long. The stitches in his gut no longer pulled when he moved and could be removed, and the bruises on his ribs had faded until he could swing a sword without wincing. He had spent much of the time since then repairing everything that the men had broken during the attack, he had also fixed up the house as best as he could with the tools that he had on hand.
He replaced the broken bowls with ones that he carved himself, and he mended the overturned tables by planing the wood smooth where it had splintered. The hearth grate, which the men had kicked over, he straightened with tools that he found in the shed, and he swept the embers back into place before he rebuilt the fire pit. Every day he worked from dawn until the light failed, and he only stopped when Cassie called everyone to supper or when the children tugged at his sleeve to hear a story.
Alys had stayed in her room during that time, and she rarely left it except to take a bowl of stew that Cassie brought her on a tray. The children asked about her often, they asked aloud if she would join them for meals again soon. Cassie always told them that Alys was sick, that she needed rest to get better, and that they should not disturb her while she recovered. Cassie took up all the old jobs that Alys had done before, such as portioning out the food and mending the clothes that tore during play. She scrubbed the pots after supper, and she counted the heads of the children before they went to bed each night.
When Arthur was not fixing the place up, he was helping Cassie with those tasks, carrying water from the well or chopping firewood for the hearth. Cassie had started to rely on him more and more as the days passed. After a week had passed, Arthur had finished everything that he needed to complete the quest for fixing the orphanage, and he felt a familiar surge as the notification appeared in his vision. He had leveled up to 5, which granted him a stat point that he put into Intelligence, raising it to 5.
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[QUEST COMPLETED] A HOME REPAIRED
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Description:
The orphanage stood on rotting beams and stubborn hope, held together by Alys's will and the laughter of children who deserved better. You picked up the hammer, braced the walls, and turned decay into structure. One board at a time, you pushed back against Flea Bottom's rot and gave these kids something few ever receive here, a safe home that won't collapse when the rain comes.
You paid back the mercy given to you.
And you built something worth protecting.
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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 ✅
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Bonus Objectives:
– Use salvaged or recycled materials instead of buying new ones
❌ Failed
– Improve on the original structure with creative reinforcements or new designs
✅ Completed
Bonus Reward: +1 Intelligence
– Finish all repairs before Alys notices and forbids you from overexerting yourself
✅ Completed
Bonus Reward: +1 Dexterity
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Rewards Earned:
+200 XP
[Skill Upgrade Token]
[Otherworld Token]
Bonus Rewards Earned:
+1 Intelligence
+1 Dexterity
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Failure Avoided:
– Roof collapse during the next storm
– Children losing their only refuge
– Alys's trust suffering
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After that, he went about trying to make the place a little more secure, using the few silvers that remained in his pouch to buy quality building materials from a carpenter's stall near the Iron Gate. He reinforced the doors using thick oak planks, and he fitted iron bars that he hammered into shape over the windows. He put spikes and nails on the fences that surrounded the garden, driving them in at angles so that anyone who tried to climb over would find it difficult to grip. He even invented a few contraptions, drawing on his [Inventive Genius] trait which allowed him to imagine designs that filled the gaps in what he knew about mechanisms and carpentry.
For the main door, he built a sliding bolt system with a chain that connected to a counterweight, so that pulling a lever from inside would drop a heavy log into place behind it. In the garden, he constructed tripwires from thin fishing wire that he stretched between posts, and he linked them to bells that he hung from the walls, ensuring that any intruder who stepped on them would alert everyone in the house.
The shed turned into his personal workshop as he cleared out the rusted tools and organised the space with shelves that he built from salvaged crates. He designed some useful things that helped make life easier around the home as well as helping the farming, starting with a water collection system that he rigged to the roof with gutters that he bent from tin sheets. Rain would flow into barrels that he positioned at the corners, and he added a filter of cloth and charcoal inside them to clean the water before it reached the bottom.
For the garden, he created a hand-cranked tiller from a wooden frame and iron spikes that had purchased, which allowed Cassie to turn the soil faster than she could with a hoe alone. He also built a compost bin with rotating drums that he connected to a handle, so that turning it mixed the waste and sped up the process of turning scraps into fertile earth. Inside the house, he made a set of bunk beds for the dormitory from pine boards that he planed smooth, stacking them three high to free up floor space for the growing number of children. For the kitchen, he made a drying rack that hung from the ceiling on pulleys, which let Cassie lift herbs and vegetables out of the way after washing them.
After the second week passed, Arthur was starting to get restless, and he paced the halls more often than he worked on new projects. He wanted to go after Mira with every passing hour, yet he still had not got any information about where Willem's manse was located in the city. The day after the incident, Alys had told him that she would keep her promise and find out where he lived, whispering it through her door when he knocked to check on her. He had to be patient as he waited for her contacts to send word, but the thought of Mira remaining in Willem's hands made him angry and fearful in equal measure.
He imagined her alone in some lavish room that served as a prison, and he wondered what lies Willem told her. Yet he knew that the people here needed him more than ever, with Alys withdrawn and the children still shaken from the attack. In the end, he felt helpless whenever those thoughts crowded his mind, and when that happened he would go to his workshop to lose himself.
Arthur sat in the shed one afternoon, it smelled of fresh-cut wood and oil, while he worked on making a crude crossbow that he sketched out on a scrap of parchment. He used his [Inventive Genius] trait to design the stock from a sturdy branch that he shaped with a chisel, carving grooves where the bowstring would sit. The trait filled the gaps in his knowledge about tension and leverage, guiding his hands to bend a flexible ash limb into the prod that he attached with sinew cords.
He twisted metal wire that he salvaged into a trigger mechanism, which he tested by pulling it back until it clicked into place. The crossbow would fire bolts that he whittled from straight sticks, he fletched them with feathers from the few chickens in the garden. As he assembled the pieces, connecting the string to a winch that he built from a spool and crank, he felt the restlessness ease for a moment. He tightened the last screw with a turn of his wrist, and he lifted the crossbow to his shoulder to sight along the barrel, testing the balance before he set it down to load a bolt.
Arthur paused with his fingers wrapped around a whittled bolt, the fletching feathers brushing against his callused skin, and he let out a long yawn that stretched his jaw until it ached. The light in the shed had faded to the dim flicker of a single lantern that hung from a nail in the rafters, and shadows pooled in the corners where he had stacked his tools and half-finished projects. He had been working here for hours, ever since the children had gone to their bunks after supper, and his eyes burned from the close focus on the trigger mechanism that he had just adjusted with a twist of pliers. He set the bolt down on the workbench beside the crossbow, leaned back against the rough wooden wall, and rubbed his palms over his face to chase away the drowsiness that tugged at his eyelids.
As he sat there, his gaze drifted inward to the notifications that hovered at the edge of his vision, ones that he had not really looked at for a while amid the endless tasks. He focused on them now, and the text expanded before him.
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[Carpentry] +90
[Cooking] +30
[Conditioning] +10
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The push in his Carpentry had carried it over the threshold from Apprentice to Journeyman, which unlocked a new layer of skill in his work that made joints fit tighter and structures hold stronger without extra bracing. He saw how it played out already in the crossbow that lay half-assembled on the bench.
Arthur sighed then, as his thoughts turned to the rewards that he had earned for fixing up the orphanage during that first week. He had gotten them when he completed the quest, yet he had not used them yet; one he had pretty much forgotten in the rush to secure the doors and fences, and the other he hesitated over since he was not entirely sure which skill would benefit him most from the instant upgrade. The obvious choice stared him in the face as Falling Star Style, which would jump straight to Journeyman and sharpen his bladework enough to carve through Karl or any other thug who crossed his path. At least he hoped.
Yet other options tempted him as he weighed them in his mind. Shibukawa-ryū Jujutsu sat at Novice, and bumping it up would let him grapple and throw men twice his size with even greater ease, which had saved his skin more often than not when swords clashed too close. Water Dancing Style lingered at zero progress, yet a full rank there might blend with his falling star style and make him even better. Tracker hovered at Legendary already, and pushing it toward Mythic made him wonder what doors that would open; could he close his eyes, picture Willem's face, and sense the exact alley or manse where the trader hid? He did not know, and the uncertainty gnawed at him since he was not sure he wanted to risk wasting the token on a skill that might not deliver when Mira's life hung in the balance.
In the end, he decided it was better to pick the safe option that he knew would sharpen his edge in any fight ahead. He focused on the Skill Upgrade Token in his inventory, selected Falling Star Style, and confirmed the use with a mental nod.
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[Skill Upgrade Token Consumed]
[Falling Star Style]
(Apprentice 7/100) → (Journeyman 0/100)
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A subtle warmth spread through his arms and shoulders as the knowledge settled into his muscles, like threads weaving tighter in a tapestry that he could now see clearly. He flexed his fingers around an imaginary hilt and felt the forms shift in his mind.
With that settled, Arthur turned his attention to the Otherworld Token that still waited unused. He hoped for something good this time, something that would tip the scales against Willem or arm him with power beyond steel and wood. He even begged the system in his thoughts, pleading silently for a weapon or trait that would let him tear through the city and drag Mira back before another dawn broke or at least anything good. He activated it then, holding his breath as the token dissolved in a swirl of ethereal light.
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[Otherworld Token Consumed]
You have obtained: Rare Trait – [Arcane Script]
Your mind deciphers any written language, rune, or script as if it were your mother tongue. Ancient texts, foreign codices, and enchanted glyphs reveal their secrets at a glance.
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"WOOOOO!!!" Arthur let out that echoed off the shed walls, pumping his fist in the air while he jumped to his feet and knocked over a stack of lumber scraps in his excitement. He spun in place, grinning wide enough that his cheeks hurt, and clapped his hands together with a sharp smack. It was not a magic spell or the legendary blade that he had begged for, yet he would take it gladly since it unlocked the Book of the Alchemist. He pulled the tome free now, flipping it open on the workbench, and watched as the curling, alien script sharpened into strange words that flowed under his gaze like common speech. Diagrams of circles and symbols caame alive, instructions for constructing transmutation circles seemed to be the main focus of this book.
The shed door creaked open then, spilling lantern light from the house across the threshold, and Cassie stepped inside with a wooden bowl of stew steaming in her hands. She held it out as she tilted her head, one eyebrow raised while she glanced around at the scattered tools and the crossbow on the bench. "Why are you making such a racket in here, Arthur? The little ones just got to sleep, and now half of them are stirring again."
Arthur composed himself at once, straightening his tunic with a quick tug and sliding the book back under his belt before he cleared his throat. He stepped forward to take the bowl from her, the warmth seeping through the wood into his palms as he met her eyes with what he hoped passed for a casual smile. "Nothing much. Just finished a project that turned out right, and I got a bit carried away testing it. Sorry if I woke anyone. Smells good, though. You add extra carrots tonight?"
Cassie crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe, her braid falling over one shoulder while she studied him for a moment longer. "Aye, I did. Jory pulled a fresh bunch from the patch this afternoon, and they needed using before they went soft. You've been out here half the night again. When do you plan to sleep?"
He spooned up a bite of stew, the barley and herbs rich on his tongue, and shrugged one shoulder while he chewed. "Soon enough. This crossbow's the last big thing for now. Figure it'll keep the place safe if Rudge sends more men around."
She nodded slowly, her gaze flicking to the weapon on the bench where the prod gleamed under the lantern. "Looks deadly enough. You think they'll come back soon?"
Arthur swallowed and set the bowl down for a second to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. "They will if they think they can. But with the spikes on the walls, the bells on the tripwires, and this, they'll think twice. Eat with me? Plenty in the bowl."
Cassie hesitated in the doorway, then pushed off the frame and stepped fully inside, pulling the door shut behind her with a soft click. She perched on a stool that he had built earlier that week, the one with the padded seat from an old cushion that he had stuffed with wool scraps. "Only for a bit. Meggie had nightmares again tonight, and I want to check on her before I turn in."
They sat in companionable silence for a while, Arthur eating while Cassie watched the lantern flame dance. The stew warmed him from the inside, chasing away the chill that had settled in his bones from the long hours bent over the bench.
"You ever think about what comes next?" she asked after a pause, her fingers tracing the grain of the stool's wood. "After you find your wife and deal with that Willem?"
Arthur paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth, the question hanging between them. "Every day. But right now, this place needs holding together. Alys still shut in her room?"
Cassie's expression tightened for a second, then softened. "She eats what I bring her, but she doesn't talk much. The kids ask after her, but I keep telling them she's mending slow."
Arthur smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. He was still angry at the matron for what she did, and two weeks wouldn't do much to cool that off. "That's good I suppose." He scooped the last bit of stew into his mouth before holding it down and sighing in content.
Cassie shifted on the stool, her fingers still tracing the grain of the wood while she glanced at Arthur over the rim of the empty bowl that he held in his lap. She hesitated for a moment before she spoke again. "What is she like, your wife? She must be amazing if you would fight through all this for?"
Arthur set the bowl on the workbench beside the crossbow, the spoon clattering lightly against the wood as he considered her question. He leaned back against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest while he thought about Mira, the memories flooding in with every detail that he recalled. "Mira is everything to me," he said, his voice full of warmth that he could not hide. "She has this way of looking at the world that makes even the hardest days feel like they have a purpose... when she smiles at me, it is as if no one else exists in the room. She listens when I talk about my dreams, even the ones that sound foolish, and she stands by me through whatever comes my way, whether it is a storm on the road or a quiet night by the fire. I would cross the Narrow Sea for her if I had to."
Cassie watched him as he spoke, her eyes fixed on his face while she absorbed every word that he shared. She nodded slowly after he finished, a smile curving her lips as she clasped her hands in her lap. "She sounds incredible," she said gently. "I hope that you find her soon, Arthur, and that the two of you get the happy ending like they do in the stories that we tell the children at bedtime."
Arthur met her gaze, noticing the slight sheen in her eyes that caught the lantern light, he tilted his head as concern flickered through him. "Cassie," he said, his brow furrowing, "are you okay?"
Cassie blinked then, her hand flying to her cheek where she felt the dampness that had gathered without her realizing it. She let out a giggle that broke the quiet of the shed, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve while she shook her head. "I am fine," she said, still chuckling softly as she stood up from the stool. She stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a quick hug that lingered for just a second longer than usual, her braid brushing against his arm. "I am going to sleep now, Arthur. Do not stay out here too long, or you will be no good to anyone tomorrow."
Arthur returned the hug awkwardly at first, his hands patting her back before he nodded as she pulled away. "I will be in soon," he said, watching her turn toward the door. He wondered if she was truly okay, the tears that she had wiped away lingering in his mind as she slipped out into the night, but he did not press her further since she had already closed the door behind her with a soft click.
He sat there for a while longer in the dim light of the lantern, the crossbow forgotten on the bench while he replayed the conversation in his thoughts. Cassie had asked about Mira with a curiosity that seemed genuine, yet the way her voice had softened and the tears that had appeared unbidden made him question if something deeper troubled her. He knew that she carried the weight of the entire orphanage on her shoulders now that Alys remained secluded in her room, and he had seen how she pushed herself to keep the children fed and the routines running smoothly.
Perhaps the stories that she mentioned, the ones with happy endings, stirred emotions in her that she rarely let show, especially after the attack that had shaken everyone to their core. He considered following her inside to check on her again, but he decided against it since she had giggled and hugged him as if to brush it off, and he did not want to intrude if she needed space to compose herself.
Instead, he stood up and stretched his arms over his head, feeling the pull in his muscles from the hours that he had spent bent over the workbench. He glanced at the crossbow once more, running his finger along the string that he had twisted from sinew, and he felt a sense of accomplishment that eased the restlessness which had driven him out here in the first place. With Cassie gone, he turned down the lantern wick until the flame sputtered out, plunging the space into darkness that the moonlight filtered through the cracks in the door.
As he stepped outside, the cool night air brushed against his skin, and he locked the shed behind him with the latch that he had crafted earlier that week. The orphanage loomed ahead, its windows dark except for the faint glow from the hall where Cassie likely checked on the children one last time. He walked toward the back door, his boots crunching on the gravel path that led through the garden, and he paused at the threshold to listen for any sounds from within.
He entered quietly, barring the door behind him as he always did now, and he made his way down the corridor to the small room that had become his. The cot waited there, the blanket folded neatly at the foot where Cassie had left it that morning, and he sat on the edge to pull off his boots. His mind drifted back to Mira as he lay down, the question that Cassie had asked echoing in his thoughts, and he wondered if his wife felt the same pull toward him wherever Willem held her. He closed his eyes, willing sleep to come, but the image of Cassie's teary smile lingered until dreams finally claimed him.
(AN: So a little time skip, only a few more chapters now until we get to the rescue, I'm pretty bored so I want to get Mira back and move onto the tournament and beyond. Anyway if any of you are curious the alchemy that he will learn is a combination of regular alchemy and Fullmetal Alchemist. That's my favourite type of alchemy and it'll be cool to see him do it. Hope you enjoyed it.)
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