The crowing of a rooster echoed out over the farm as the sun rose over the horizon. The a colder wind than usual was blowing over the stalks of wheat, a reminder that summer had ended. Arthur was woken with a start as a hare and a few squirrels used his body as a launch pad and ran over him. "Hells!" Arthur yelled out as one of them jumped off his face. His eyes were blurry as he looked around, though the haze from waking up quickly lifted as the sun shown directly into his face. He took a few deep breaths as he remembered where he was and what happened last night. 'that's right... father was about to kick my head in, but I fought back and after he didn't attack me... he just left."
Arthur pushed himself up against the tree, his body still ached but it wasn't feeling as bad as yesterday. The real question was what to do now. Should he head back to the farm, confront his father? Should he pretend that nothing happened? Should he even go back to the farm? It was a difficult situation not made any easier by his father acting strangely. He would've almost preferred to be being beaten to a pulp. 'But first let's have a looksy...'
'Status'
────────────────────
STATUS MENU
────────────────────
Name: Arthur of Harrowfield
Class: Farmer
Heritage: Valyrian / Stormlands
Age: 16
Level: 2
Unallocated Stat Points: 1
Title(s): [None]
────────────────────
COMBAT ATTRIBUTES
────────────────────
Strength: 4
Dexterity: 3
Constitution: 5 (+1%)
Intelligence: 1
Perception: 2
Luck: 2
────────────────────
PERKS
────────────────────
[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
────────────────────
NEGATIVE PERKS
────────────────────
[Weak Gut]
Low resistance to spoiled food rot disease and stress susceptible to nausea and vomiting
[Clumsy Fingers]
Fine motor skills are lacking you struggle with anything requiring delicate precision like lockpicking crafting or stitching
────────────────────
SKILLS
────────────────────
[Observe]
[Carpentry] (4/100) (Novice)
[Conditioning] (1/100)
[Novacaine] (0/100)
────────────────────
(Hidden)
────────────────────
"Nice! My autumn fever is gone," he said to himself unable to contain his excitement. He'd also levelled up and got a stat point, why he only got one was not surprising. Damn nightmare mode. But all things considered, it wasn't too bad. What should he put his step point into though? His stats were pretty pathetic across the board; intelligence was just insulting.
'Let's see, pros and cons.'
Strength would be useful, but he couldn't imagine one stat point would make a whole lot of difference and in the long run wouldn't matter or help that much.
Dexterity could help but the negative perk he had kind of ruined any fine control he might develop from it, so before focusing on dexterity, he should find a way to get rid of the perk.
Constitution, now that was looking like the right decision. It would help with his stamina and overall health, he'd already increased it before which might have something to do with getting rid of the sickness so easily. He'd definitely put a pin in that one.
Intelligence while it bothered him, it was so low it wouldn't help at the moment maybe when he was out of Harrowfield, then he could focus on it. But right now he had more problems than just being stupid.
Perception might help, but it wasn't really relevant to the situation though when he starts hunting, he'd definitely need to revisit it.
Luck useless stat he was in nightmare mode, Gods help him.
To Arthur it like the obvious choice which one to pick, he quickly went and put the stat point into constitution. He gasped slightly as he felt a rush fill his body, which suddenly made it easier to stand. He took a few steps forward and it felt easier to walk. Arthur smiled to himself. He'd definitely made the right choice, plus if he focused on constitution now then it would make training easier and he could build up his strength adjacent to it.
All part of the master plan... that he only had some idea of.
"Alright now time to use the rest of my rewards," Arthur said as he rubbed his hands together. He went into his inventory and used the otherworld token.
The wheel blurred through its tiers.
Common. Uncommon. Rare. Epic. Rare. Common. Uncommon.
Then it clicked into place.
Common
_____________________________
[Token Consumed]
[New Skill Gained: Cooking (0/100) (Novice)]
You can now prepare meals without poisoning yourself or others
Progress improves ingredient efficiency food bonuses and survival odds
_____________________________
'Could be worse... could most defining be better,' he thought to himself. While he was hoping for a top tier item, cooking was one of the skills he needed if he was going to survive on his own. While he could get Mira to do it, he didn't wanna have to rely on her, especially when he was the one who was trying to save her. At least this way he can grind this skill by helping his Ma out in the kitchen, that's if she even let him inside.
"Okay time for the next one," he said before getting the random skill token. "Let's spin to win."
_____________________________
[Random Skill Token Used]
[New Skill Gained: Tracker (0/100) (Legendary)]
You can follow anything that leaves a trace
Footprints scent breath heat mana spirit aura or blood
If it exists and it moved you can find it
Even if it doesn't want to be found
_____________________________
"Fuck yeah!" Arthur cheered. While again it wasn't an offensive skill, it was still good. A legendary tracking ability, if Arthur's body wasn't in such pain, he would be doing a dance right now. He didn't know what mana or spirit aura was but the fact he could track it was pretty cool.
_____________________________
[System Warning]
Due to current difficulty setting: Nightmare Mode
Any token that generates an item of Legendary or higher will trigger World Rebalancing
– Enemy types may escalate
– Encounter difficulty may increase
– Hostile factions may gain upgrades
– Narrative events may shift in tone or timing
— Character histories may be altered
— items from the otherworld may appear at random in
the world.
— Skills from otherworld may be assigned at random
_____________________________
Arthur stopped celebrating as he saw the notification pop up in his vision. The smile melted away from his face as he looked at what the system had told him. His mouth was slightly open and It got wider as the only word he could think of slipped out.
"FUCK!!!!!!"
...
After taking a long moment to compose himself, Arthur walked back towards the farm. The revelation that the items he got would sometimes come with a cost was annoying to say the least. Especially since he didn't know how bad it would be, like would a monster just appear in the city because he now had the ability to track. Or would the enemkes he would face be able to shoot lightning bolts out of their eyes and fire out of their dicks? It was tough to say, but he couldn't do anything about it.
On a positive note, the new tracking skill he had was incredible. He could see now why it was the legendary edition. Despite not knowing about the animals beforehand the moment he looked around he was able to catch every single track, know how fresh they were, and how long it will take for him to get to them. Despite not having any progress in this skill, it already seemed like it was levelled up to the max, it had to make him wonder what the next two tiers would be.
He did a little more reading in the system menu and it turns out that some skills have tiers. For example, his carpentry has started out at Novice, while his tracking ability is that legendary.
Novice
Apprentice
Journeyman
Adept
Expert
Master
Legendary
Mythic
He could see why having a legendary skill would make the system crash out on him. But then again, he would've appreciated a more combat oriented skill. This wasn't too bad though. Arthur looked around the forest easily able to follow the tracks. He was even able to see his own tracks and instinctively know how long it had been since he was there. As upset as he was about the world getting even more nightmarish, he would admit this was fun.
'Okay time to head home,' he said as he exited the forest and walked back across the field. He was a little hesitant as he went across, not knowing what would await him. But he refused to be a coward so he walked across the field and right towards the main house. It was pretty early so he didn't expect anyone to be awake apart from maybe mother who would likely be getting breakfast ready. Farmers had an early day, and it was harvesting time, something they needed to get done quickly if they wanted to squeeze in one more crop before winter. Who knows how many years the winter will last this time.
Arthur took one more deep breath before entering the house. He looked around no traps have been set an arrow hadn't pierced his skull. Good start. He walked further into the house and into the main living area where the fire pit was and where he could see his mother and his father sitting around it his father having bandages wrapped around his face.
'Observe'
────────────────────
STATUS MENU
────────────────────
Name: Elyse Storm
Class: Peasant
Heritage: Valyrian
Age: 43
Level: 3
Unallocated Stat Points: 0
Title(s): Mother of the House
────────────────────
COMBAT ATTRIBUTES
────────────────────
Strength: 6
Dexterity: 4
Constitution: 7
Intelligence: 5
Perception: 6
Luck: 3
Charisma: 5
────────────────────
PERKS
────────────────────
[Valyrian Blood]
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
[Long-Suffering]
You've been through enough to stop reacting to most things
Reduces the effect of stress and manipulation
[Silent Backbone]
You don't talk much but people tend to listen when you do
Stabilizes morale and keeps others in line when things get bad
[Housekeeper]
You've kept a home running without help without money and without thanks
Basic chores are faster cleaner and harder to mess up
────────────────────
SKILLS
────────────────────
[Cooking] (56/100) (Adept)
[Sewing] (43/100) (Apprentice)
[Herbcraft] (38/100) (Apprentice)
[Cleaning] (52/100) (Adept)
[Budgeting] (35/100) (Apprentice)
[Childcare] (49/100) (Apprentice)
────────────────────
BACKGROUND
────────────────────
Elyse is the mother of Garlan Gregor Mira and Arthur and the wife of Gormon
She was born near Shipbreaker Bay and married young
Most of her time is spent cooking cleaning sewing and trying to keep the house from falling apart
She doesn't talk much and rarely smiles but she notices everything
Just last week she stood over Arthur's bed and quietly prayed he wouldn't wake up
There wasn't enough food and he was the weakest
She hasn't told anyone
She never will
____________________________________
'Thanks Ma...' Arthur thought with a deadpan expression. He looked over to the fire and saw
breakfast was being cooked, one quick look confirmed there was a stew in the pot. His father sat there with a mug of homegrown ale in his hand, both of them up as Arthur came into the room. Arthur froze as he looked at them unsure of what to say should he apologise for smashing his father's face in with a rock? No, probably not good to bring it up. Instead, he just walked in and took a seat usually where Gregor sat. No one said anything his mother kept on cooking scarcely looking his way, and his father just stared him down while taking sips from his mug.
Soon enough breakfast was cooked and his mother went about dishing up a bowl for his father. Though to his surprise, she made him a bowl up and gave it to him. 'Must be poisoned...' he thought to himself. His father didn't want to become a Kinslayer so he was gonna poison him and say he died of food poisoning. But he couldn't exactly refuse the food now and he didn't eat supper last night so he was starving. He took a spoonful of the stew and shoved into his mouth, despite being relatively simple a myriad of flavours moved across his tongue. He'd forgotten how good of a cook his mother was, 'This is definitely worth the potential poisoning.' he thought as he continued to eat.
Gorman cleared his throat.
Arthur jerked in his seat, nearly dropping the spoon. He hadn't even noticed the man had finished his breakfast and had stood up. "I've got a list for you. Since you're clearly well enough to eat, you're well enough to work."
"You'll start by chopping enough firewood to last through the week, replace all the ones you ruined. Not half-rotted bark either, I want dry, thick rounds split and stacked properly. Then check the snares out back. If there's rabbit, gut it. If not, reset and move on." He didn't finish there however, he kept on going. Cleaning out the chicken coop. Re-hanging the fence gate. Helping his mother churn butter since her arm was acting up. "You'll be heading into Harrowfield before midday," Gorman said. "Take the handcart. Two baskets of eggs, one of milk. Go to the tanner. Trade it for leather. Not scraps. Usable hide. Tell him I'll be by next week to collect the rest."
Arthur opened his mouth, but his father cut him off.
"And if you screw this up..." Gorman stepped closer, . "Don't come home."
"Also clean yourself up, you stink," Gorman finished
He didn't wait for a reply. Just turned and walked out.
_____________________________
GET TO WORK
Description:
Your father gave you a list
If you're well enough to eat you're well enough to work
Finish every task or don't bother coming back
Objectives:
– Chop and stack firewood
– Check snares and gut any rabbit
– Scrub the trough
– Clean the chicken coop
– Re-hang the fence gate
– Help churn butter
– Deliver eggs and milk to Harrowfield
– Trade with the tanner for usable leather
Reward:
– +1 Constitution
– +1 Strength
– Otherworld Token
– 50 XP
– Slight Reputation Gain: Harrowfield Locals
Failure:
– Lose access to family shelter
– Relationship penalty with Gormon
– Risk of injury or exposure
_____________________________
'Kinda hoped I'd get more of a reward for such a long days work but he guess he couldn't complain...' he thought as he spooned another mouthful of stew into his mouth.
"You shouldn't disappoint him."
Arthur blinked, uncertain if he'd heard right.
"He's giving you a chance," she continued. "To be part of this family. Not just someone who eats our food and sleeps under our roof. He didn't have to."
Arthur set the spoon down.
"He didn't have to?" he repeated.
She ignored the tone. "You know what I mean."
He stared at her. She stared back.
"He works hard to keep this household going," she said. "And you, you've been nothing but trouble. I'm not saying he's perfect. But this? This is him trying. If you ruin it, that's on you."
Arthur looked down at the parchment again. The ink had smudged slightly under his thumb. He could feel her eyes still on him, waiting.
"So don't make a mess of it," she added. "Do what he asked. Come back with that leather. No arguments. No excuses."
Arthur said nothing. Just picked up the spoon again and took another mouthful. The stew didn't taste as good anymore. His Mother then moved away and cleared up after his father and then left the room to continue the chores for the day. Arthur finished his breakfast and then got up himself, he had a long day ahead of him and so needed to get started. He moved toward the door, pushing it open with one hand and stepping out into the cold morning air. The sky was grey and flat, the kind of dull colour that made it hard to tell what time it really was. The ground outside was still wet from last night's rain, dark patches of mud clinging to the stone path that led around the side of the house toward the yard. He had half a mind to grab the axe first and get started on the firewood, but before he could take more than a few steps, the door creaked behind him.
He turned.
Mira stood in the doorway.
Her hair was a mess, hanging in loose strands over her face, and her eyes were red and puffy like she'd been crying for hours. Her skin was pale, her lips trembling, her whole body unmoving except for the slight tremble in her hands. She just looked at him, frozen, like she wasn't sure if she was dreaming. Then she rushed forward without a word. Her arms wrapped around him, and Arthur nearly lost his balance. "Are you okay?" she cried. "Are you hurt?" Her hands were already on him, brushing over his arms, his chest, then down his sides. "Did he hit you again? Did you bleed? Did he—"
Arthur tried to speak but she cupped his face, her palms warm against his cheeks. Her thumbs moved slowly across the skin under his eyes, and her breath came in sharp little bursts. "Mira," he muttered, barely able to move his mouth with how tight she held him. "I'm fine."
She didn't seem to hear him.
"I should've come after you," she whispered. "I wanted to. But when Father came home, he said if I did, he'd make it worse for you. I—I didn't know what to do, Arthur. I thought—" Her voice caught, and she pulled him close again, burying her face into the space between his shoulder and neck. Her chest pressed tight against his. Arthur froze. He could feel her heartbeat, and he couldn't ignore the fact that her breasts were now squished against him. He swallowed hard and looked away.
"I said I'm fine," he repeated, firmer this time.
She pulled back just slightly, her hands still on his shoulders, her eyes locked onto his.
"You don't look fine," she said in a quiet voice.
"I just need to wash," Arthur said. "Then I've got a list of chores to do. Father gave it to me this morning."
Mira blinked. "He gave you chores?"
Arthur nodded. "Said if I messed them up, don't come home."
She stared at him like she wasn't sure whether to be worried or relieved. Then slowly, she stepped aside. "Come on," she said. "I'll walk with you."
Together they made their way to the trough near the barn, the stones slick with dew beneath their feet. Arthur grabbed the old cloth from the hook nailed into the wall and dipped it into the freezing water. He took a breath and pulled his shirt over his head. It clung to his back as it peeled off, damp with sweat. Mira sat on the edge of the trough and watched in silence. Arthur didn't say anything at first. He just wrung out the cloth, then began wiping down his arms, his chest, the grime and dried blood coming away in slow strokes. He moved the cloth across his ribs, down his side, up along his neck. He didn't know why Mira wanted to look at him like that, there was nothing there.
Just skin and bones.
He didn't look at Mira, but he could feel her eyes on him the whole time.
Arthur finished scrubbing his arms, the last patches of dried mud breaking apart into brown swirls in the trough water. He dipped the cloth again, wrung it out, then wiped behind his neck, along his collarbone, and finally down the center of his chest. He tossed the cloth back onto the hook and stood up straight. "I should change."
Mira stood without being asked. "I'll get your clothes."
He said nothing as she turned and headed toward the house, her braid swinging as she vanished around the corner. He stood there in the morning chill, arms folded over his chest, watching the wind stir the treetops beyond the fence. A few minutes later, she returned, holding a folded tunic and trousers with underclothes tucked beneath.
"Here," she said, handing them over.
He nodded his thanks and stepped into the barn. He pulled off his damp breeches, then slipped into the fresh linen underclothes, tugged on the rough-spun trousers, and pulled the tunic over his head. It hung loose on him. He cinched it at the waist with the cord and stepped back outside, brushing straw from his sleeves.
"I best get on with the chores," he said as he emerged.
Mira stood near the trough, watching him again. "I can help, if you need me."
Arthur shook his head. "You've got your own to do. And I doubt Father would be happy if he saw you helping me."
She looked down, fidgeting with her hands. "I suppose not."
There was a pause. Then she stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek.
"Good luck," she said softly.
Arthur blinked. Her lips had been warm. Gentle. For a second, he didn't move.
She stepped back, gave a small smile, and turned away, walking toward the house with her braid swaying lightly behind her.
He touched his cheek where she'd kissed him. There was a small warmth there, like a coal pressed into his skin. It wasn't the kiss itself that bothered him—it was the way it made his chest feel light for a moment. Then he groaned, slapped his forehead, and muttered under his breath. "Don't fall for your sister, you idiot."
He took a breath, squared his shoulders, and turned toward the woodpile. The axe stood buried in a half-split log, waiting. He stepped toward it and grabbed the handle. The axe came free with a dry scrape. He tested the weight in his hand, adjusting his grip. It felt heavier than he remembered. Though if he was honest he hardly ever held an axe. The first log sat crooked on the block. He bent to fix it, repositioning the chunk of wood so it wouldn't slide off. Then he raised the axe, arms straining to lift it overhead, and brought it down hard.
The blade bounced.
"Shit," he muttered.
The wood hadn't even cracked. He hadn't hit it straight, the angle too shallow. He pulled the axe back up and swung again. And again. The third strike finally split the surface a little, but it was shallow. The fourth buried it, but not cleanly.
It took twenty minutes to break that first log.
His arms were already sore. His hands stung from the shock of the handle, and sweat was sliding down his back beneath the fresh tunic. But he didn't stop. He set the next log, squared his shoulders again, and kept swinging. The second one was easier. Not by much, but he didn't miss as badly. The third, he hit clean. It still took four strikes to finish it, but he started to find a rhythm—lift, pivot, drop. Breathe. Lift, pivot, drop. Breathe. Hours passed. The sun rose higher, the chill fading, replaced by a dry warmth that clung to his arms and neck. The woodpile slowly shrank. His shoulders ached, his fingers burned, but he kept at it.
Then a soft tone echoed in his mind.
+1 Conditioning
+1 Carpentry
Arthur froze.
"Nice," he muttered, a half-smile breaking onto his face.
The ache didn't stop. The sweat didn't vanish. But the System had noticed his effort. And that made it worth it. He gripped the axe again and turned back to the next log. Still a dozen left to go. He rolled his shoulders, shifted his stance, and raised the blade. Then he brought it down.
The crack of wood splitting was easier this time. Much cleaner as well. It took another two hours to work through the rest of the stack. By the time he was done, a tidy pile of firewood sat where there'd once been a jumbled mess, and his arms felt like they were filled with wet sand. His breath came in slow gulps, chest rising and falling, but the ache in his shoulders wasn't the same as before.
During the time he had been chopping he had gotten multiple notifications but had ignored them. Now he looked to them and saw what he'd gotten.
+1 Conditioning
+1 Carpentry
+1 Conditioning
+1 Carpentry
[Skill Unlocked: Axe Mastery (3/100) (Novice)]
Arthur lowered the axe slowly, staring at the screen in his mind. He let the notification fade and looked down at the handle in his hands. The weight didn't feel quite so clumsy anymore. His fingers adjusted naturally to the grip. His feet were better placed without thinking. When he'd swung the last few times, the motion had felt smoother, almost automatic.
Like muscle memory had kicked in.
He gave the axe a light toss, caught it mid-air, and nodded to himself. 'Nice...' he thought to himself.
Arthur leaned the axe against the stump, rubbed his forearm across his brow, and turned toward the yard. The wood was chopped and stacked. That was the first task done. He didn't take long to rest. The list his father gave him wasn't going to finish itself, and the sun was already climbing. He walked to the back of the house and checked the snares behind the shed. One held a rabbit, stiff and limp. He cleared the others and reset them, then brought the catch inside, placing it on the table for Mira to deal with.
Next was the trough. He grabbed the old brush, scooped out the leaves and grime floating near the edges, then leaned in and scrubbed the inside until the stone was clean enough to reflect back light. His fingers were red and raw by the end, but he didn't slow down. The chicken coop was next. He swept out the straw, cleared the droppings, and checked the hinges on the door like his father had said. After that, he went to the gate and pulled the post free. He reset it straighter and tied it with rope to hold in place.
It wouldn't last long but would keep it from dragging on the ground. The chores stretched through the morning and into early afternoon. When everything else was done, he checked over the handcart. The wheels were loose, but the axle held. He loaded two baskets of eggs, wrapped in old cloth, and a jug of milk he'd taken from the cool shed. He tied them down and checked the ropes again. Then he went inside.
Mira was standing at the table, tying off a cloth bundle. She looked up when he came in.
"I packed you something," she said. "Bread and a bit of rabbit from last night. And some berries."
Arthur stepped closer and took the bundle from her hands. It was warm. He gave a nod.
"Thanks."
She looked at him a little longer. "Be careful. You're going out alone."
"I will."
"I mean it. Don't get into any trouble."
"I'll be fine."
There was a quiet moment. Then Mira smiled. It wasn't a big smile, but it reached her eyes. Arthur smiled back.
"Goodbye," he said.
"Good luck," she said as she took a step forward, he was almost certain she was going to kiss him again, but it seems she chickened out.
He turned and stepped out the door. The sky was pale and cloudless. The cart creaked as he pulled it forward down the dirt path leading away from the yard. The weight wasn't too bad, and the wheels held. No one else came out to see him off. His father was nowhere in sight. Still, Arthur felt something stir in his chest. He hadn't left the village proper in weeks. The air smelled cleaner once he passed the last fence. He was actually looking forward to this.
The first time he had looked forward to something since he came into this world.
(AN: So Arthur is off to the village for the first time since he became sick. Who will he meet? Will he get some pussy? It's possible. I mean I did create a list of women in the village just so I could have choice of people to bang. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it.)
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