Twig spent most of the day weighing pros and cons, evaluating every advantage, every cost, and which option would give him the best immediate result: progressing as a Blacksmith or as an Alchemist.
After putting everything on the scale, he realized that, for now, becoming a Blacksmith was the more efficient path. Material costs would be lower, the return more direct, and he remembered well that Blacksmith skills greatly increased one's physical combat power — something that, when combined with his Knight techniques, could make all the difference.
"That's it," he concluded. "Right now, becoming a Blacksmith gives me the clearest advantages."
"System, I want to advance to the Blacksmith class."
[Ding!]User, initiating class advancement mission for Blacksmith.
[Ding!]Mission acquired: "Forge Your Forge."
*Objective: Build a workshop with a functional forge, acquire an anvil, and all necessary blacksmithing tools.
"Seriously, System… how am I supposed to build a full workshop? Even if I had the materials, how would I do it? I don't even know where to start."
[Ding!]User must acquire both the knowledge and the materials. That is the essence of this class advancement mission.
"Hm… understood," Twig said, exhaling. "Then the best thing is to find a blacksmith nearby. I can at least ask where to get the materials, how the structure works, how everything is organized. I'll copy what I see. Trial and error… eventually I'll complete the mission."
Twig scratched his chin, staring at the snow-covered horizon.
"Well… I doubt any nearby village has a truly skilled blacksmith. At best they might know how to make hoes, sickles, maybe horseshoes."
His expression shifted when a better idea struck him.
"I'll go to Riverrun. It's a bigger city — they definitely have a proper workshop and an experienced blacksmith. I can learn what I need and figure out where to get the materials."
"If I find the right forge, I can advance this mission today."
The thought excited him; he almost felt the phantom heat of a furnace against his skin. "A real blacksmith — anvils, tongs, bellows… everything I need should be there. Let's go."
Twig called silently for Aliane, summoning the Kafra attendant. In an instant, her figure materialized — the familiar maid uniform, the same gentle smile as always.
"Hello, young master."
"Hello, Aliane. I want to go to Riverrun. With all this snow, my horse Artax won't be happy. I can teleport there, right? I remember saving a point near the city gate."
"Correct, young master. You saved a location using Kafra Service. If you wish, I can teleport you now. However, the fee will be 1,500 zeny."
"Damn, that's expensive," Twig thought. "And how much to return?"
"The same amount, young master. 1,500 to go, 1,500 to return."
"So… 3,000 zeny total. Fine. With my current level and Merchant skills, I can make that back in a blink. Still, I should be careful. Even with the small fortune I've saved, I can't waste money. Who knows when I'll need a lot of zeny — especially with my EXP bonus skill. The more money I have, the better."
After agreeing to pay, Twig vanished in a beam of light and reappeared near a small forest on the opposite side of the river. A few steps later, he reached a clearing and saw Riverrun's walls across the water. He followed the road and soon arrived at the main bridge.
Dressed as a merchant, he had no trouble entering the city. Winter had reduced foot traffic to almost nothing; collecting toll coins was all the guard cared about.
Inside Riverrun, Twig immediately noticed how empty everything felt.
During his last visit, under milder weather, the city had been alive with movement and noise. Now, as he walked toward the marketplace he knew so well, almost no merchants were around. Most shops were closed or serving a single customer at most.
Winter made survival harsh — everyone hid from the cold.
But in the commercial ward, Twig spotted someone who definitely wasn't hidden from the wind — likely because he couldn't afford to be. A poorly dressed boy huddled under a wooden fence beside a shop, almost inside a narrow alley. He trembled violently, head bowed.
Twig approached.
"Hey, boy."
"Boy," he repeated.
The child slowly lifted his face — sleepy eyes, skin reddened by the cold.
"S-sir… did you call me?" he asked.
"Yes," Twig replied. "What's your name, kid?"
"S-sir, my name is Jaran."
"I want to pay you for something. Do you know the city well?"
At that, Jaran's eyes widened. With winter and so few travelers, he hadn't guided anyone in weeks — any work was a blessing.
"Come with me, Jaran. Show me where I can find a good blacksmith."
Still trembling, the boy hesitated.
"You're looking for a blacksmith, sir? Wouldn't an armorer be better?"
"Hm? Maybe. Do you know a good one?"
"Master Timos is a well-known armorer in the city," Jaran said. "But he doesn't work in the market area. He's near the guard barracks. We can go to him and try to get tools… but the lord only allows him to sell weapons to the city guard."
"I see," Twig replied. "Take me to him anyway."
Noticing the boy's condition, Twig reached into an empty pouch — merely a gesture to open his System inventory — and discreetly pulled out a thick winter coat dropped long ago by a Thief Bug.
It was a sturdy leather jacket with large buttons and a high fur-lined collar.
"Put this on," Twig said, handing it over.
Jaran hesitated, then took the coat and slipped into it. The collar rose high, covering his ears.
"Better?" Twig asked.
"Much better, sir," the boy said, breathing now without trembling.
"Thank you… truly. I've never seen clothes like this. Are you from far away?"
"You ask too many questions, Jaran."
"Sorry, sir."
"It's fine. Just wear the coat and don't ask more."
Jaran led Twig through the alleys and streets until they reached the guard quarter — ironically close to the city's entrance. Twig sighed internally.
"Great… walked in circles. Not knowing the city is a pain."
"We're here, sir," Jaran said, pointing at a building where reddish flashes escaped through the cracks. The rhythmic pounding of metal confirmed it: a forge.
Twig knocked.
"Come in," said a deep voice. After a moment, the door opened, revealing a broad-shouldered man covered in soot, beard heavy and thick. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"You're Armorer Timos?"
"Yes. Timos Molten. Why are you here? Looking for tools?"
"No."
"If you want weapons, I can't sell. Not authorized."
"Not here to buy weapons. I came for something else." Twig lifted his chin. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Timos glanced at the street, then stepped aside.
"Enter. Speak your business. If it's nonsense, I'll throw you out myself."
Twig crossed the threshold and waved for Jaran.
"Come in too. It's freezing out there. Warm yourself by the forge."
Timos ignored the boy completely, focusing solely on Twig — the mysterious "merchant."
"So? What do you want?"
"It's simple. And you can definitely help — and be well compensated," Twig said.
"I need you to instruct me. Actually, I need a full list of everything you use in your workshop: forge, anvil, hammers, tongs — everything. I want a complete inventory."
Both Timos and the boy went wide-eyed.
"What are you asking? You want to buy my workshop?"
"No. I want to know everything a workshop needs — and where to acquire the materials. What merchants sell them, what you have in stock. I need to build a forge elsewhere."
"Why build a forge somewhere else?" Timos insisted.
"Do you really need to know?" Twig replied calmly.
"I'll pay very well — for the knowledge and the items you can sell."
Timos sighed. "If my lord questions me, I need to justify what I'm doing."
"Tell him a caravan merchant passed through and bought supplies to build a forge in another city. Far away. I'm not arming bandits."
"That doesn't reassure me," Timos muttered.
"If my lord demands explanations for the gold I'll have… I need something solid."
Twig exhaled slowly.
"Look, I don't care what story you tell. I was commissioned to build a forge in another region. I'm passing through. In other words: you're lucky. I brought payment you wouldn't see even if you forged weapons for a lifetime. Believe me, Timos — I need this done yesterday."
To make the point clearer, Twig reached into his pouch and produced two gemstones from his inventory — a deep green emerald and a clear two-carat diamond.
Timos swallowed hard.
"You're… paying with gemstones? Why not gold?"
"I could pay in gold," Twig said. "But these stones are worth far more than what I could carry in coins. Here's what you'll do: list every item needed to build a workshop like yours from scratch. What you don't have, buy in the city."
He gestured to the boy.
"This is Jaran. Put him to work. I'll add more gemstones to the payment. You clearly don't have many apprentices — give him a chance. Train him. I'm paying more than enough to train ten apprentices till mastership."
Timos blinked, confused.
"Take him as my apprentice? Why? Who is he? He's not kin, and nobody reputable recommended him."
"He's just a boy I found frozen in the street today," Twig replied.
"You got lucky by my knocking on your door. Now he's lucky too. Will you take him?"
"If you're paying for his training…" Timos shrugged. "Why not?"
"Perfect."
Twig placed two more emeralds and an amethyst beside the first gems.
"Have everything ready. Stack the crates outside. I'll pick them up tomorrow. Can you manage that?"
"With winter slowing everything… there's little demand," Timos murmured.
"If I call the right people, I can gather everything by tomorrow."
"Good," Twig said. "I'll find an inn. I'll return early."
Jaran stood frozen, mind reeling. His entire life had changed in a blink — all because he happened to guide a stranger through the city after being found shivering behind a shop. The weight of the warm coat settled on him; the fur collar cradled his neck. For the first time in a long time, his hands were no longer trembling.
Twig spent some time walking around the city, studying its layout so he wouldn't wander helplessly next time. After circling the district, he returned to the same inn where he had stayed before.
A young woman — likely the same attendant from his previous visit — welcomed him. Twig ordered a drink and a meal, choosing a quiet table in the corner.
His goal was simple: listen.
He wanted gossip, rumors, news from across the realm.
Saul's inn had been too isolated through the winter; little information had reached them.
It didn't take long.
As the few patrons settled — some eating, some newly arrived — the murmurs grew, and certain conversations stood out.
Twig overheard that King Aerys had been mistreating Tywin Lannister, his Hand.
At another table, two Riverrun merchants discussed marriage rumors: Lord Tully intended to wed Lady Catelyn to the heir of Winterfell. They grumbled, calling Northerners barbarians.
Twig focused on the group whispering about the king's actions. According to them, the Mad King had been burning dissidents — or anyone he felt was an enemy to the crown.
Twig leaned back slightly.
"Yeah… it won't be long before the events leading to the rebellion start lining up."
Satisfied with the food and information, he tilted his head thoughtfully.
"If I remember right, a certain tournament is coming soon… that's where everything starts going wrong."
He exhaled.
"That's for later. First the forge, then the mission."
He paid for a room and rested only enough to warm up. He didn't wait for dawn.
Before sunrise, Twig rose quietly, adjusted his merchant clothes, and slipped down the stairs unnoticed. The streets were empty, wrapped in a cold morning fog.
He walked to Timos' forge.
Warmth still seeped through the cracks, but the workshop remained unlit. Outside, several crates were stacked, tied with rope and marked with charcoal: tools, ore, leather, clamps, molds, hammers, two sets of tongs, and what seemed to be a smaller anvil wrapped in thick cloth.
Twig checked the surroundings — no guards, no footsteps, no windows opening.
Once sure he was alone, he touched the nearest crate and, with a discreet gesture, pulled everything into his inventory. The boxes vanished one by one.
He stepped back into the shadows of an alley, leaned against the cold wall, and closed his eyes briefly.
"Forge, materials… done."
Then whispered mentally: "Aliane, return."
A beam of light enveloped him — and in the frozen dawn, Twig disappeared, leaving behind only the mist of his breath.