Amyklai smoldered in the morning light. Smoke drifted from half-burnt homes, children huddled around their mothers, and men carried buckets of water to douse lingering embers. Leonidas stood at the edge of the square, watching. Victory had been theirs, but villages were not walls of bronze. They were softer, more fragile.
The overlay shimmered faintly, highlighting not spears or shields, but names and faint glows above villagers: most dim, some flickering brighter. He scanned the crowd, eyes narrowing.
[Potential Detected: Uncommon | Artisan Skill – Blacksmith.]
His gaze settled on a burly man hammering stubbornly at a bent plowshare over a cracked anvil. His arms were corded with muscle, his face streaked with soot. Despite the ruin around him, his blows were steady, purposeful.
Leonidas approached. "You keep working even when the village burns."
The man didn't look up. "Tools feed mouths. Fire or no, the earth doesn't wait."
"What's your name?"
"Phokas," the man said gruffly.
---
Theron stepped closer, studying the plowshare. "Not a warrior."
"No," Phokas said. "But without me, no warrior eats."
Leonidas's overlay flickered:
Strength: 6
Skill (Smithing): B+
Potential: A (Uncommon Artisan)
Loyalty: 48% (Neutral, cautious)
Leonidas could almost feel the system testing him. Not every gift comes in bronze and blood. Some come with fire and hammer.
He spoke evenly. "Sparta needs more than soldiers. We need smiths who can shape bronze, mend armor, sharpen blades. Join us, and you'll have protection, resources, and men who know your worth."
Phokas finally looked up, eyes narrowing. "And what happens when your council grows tired of me? When another raid burns my forge? Men like me are forgotten. Soldiers get glory, smiths get ash."
---
Leonidas crouched so they were eye-to-eye. His voice dropped to steel. "My wall does not break. If you stand with us, neither will your forge. The council may forget, but I do not."
The overlay flickered—Loyalty: 55% (Rising).
Phokas studied him a moment longer, then grunted. "I'll join. But I serve iron, not politics. If your wall cracks, don't ask me to follow rubble."
Leonidas inclined his head. "Agreed."
---
That evening, Phokas set his anvil on solid ground near the Cohort's camp. The men watched curiously as sparks leapt skyward, iron ringing under his hammer.
Doros whistled. "Look at that arm. He could swing a spear as well as a hammer."
Kyros smirked. "Better that he sharpens ours instead."
Theron's gaze lingered on Leonidas. "So this is your plan. Not just men. The hands that feed them, clothe them, arm them."
Leonidas nodded. "Every wall needs mortar. Soldiers alone are bricks waiting to crumble."
---
The system whispered as the hammer rang:
[Recruitment Complete: Artisan – Blacksmith.]
[Faction Upgrade: Equipment Durability +10%.]
[Hint: Talents are rare. Seek them in conquered or allied lands. Not all can be recruited immediately. Some require patience—or debts repaid.]
Leonidas watched the sparks dance into the night sky. So this is another path. Not only to fight, but to build.
---
The next morning, the Iron Cohort drilled with sharper blades and stronger shield rims. The difference was subtle but real—their weapons bit deeper into the air, their stances steadier. Even the men felt it.
"This edge sings," Nikas said, running his thumb along his spearhead.
"It's the smith," Leonidas replied. "Remember that. Without men like him, we bleed dull."
The overlay confirmed it:
Unit Upgrade Applied: Iron Cohort – Equipment Efficiency +10%.
---
Yet not all were pleased. Villagers muttered about the blacksmith leaving his forge for foreign Spartans. Council runners lingered longer than necessary, watching Phokas with narrow eyes. And Kleon… Kleon's glare grew sharper each time Leonidas's wall moved stronger than before.
Theron noticed. "They'll say you're hoarding talent now."
"Let them," Leonidas said. "I'll hoard anything that makes the wall hold."
He looked north, where Evelyne's knights still glimmered brightest in the sky. Her banner had size. His had loyalty. Now it had craftsmen too.
And loyalty armed with iron is heavier than numbers alone.