A few days had passed since Arthur used his first token and had gotten the completely fucking useless Carpentry skill. Well not useless. But in no way helpful to his current situation. Mira had continued to visit him over the past few days, she had taken to feeding him all his meals and even insisting on wiping down his body when it was covered in sweat. Arthur had tried to decline but between his sickness and his relatively low strength he couldn't exactly refuse. But as the days passed, he was getting better and he even discovered certain aspects of the system he didn't know before.
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STATUS MENU
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Name: Arthur of Harrowfield
Class: Farmer
Heritage: Valyrian / Stormlands
Age: 16
Level: 1
Unallocated Stat Points: 0
Title(s): [None]
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COMBAT ATTRIBUTES
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Strength: 4
Dexterity: 2
Constitution: 5
Intelligence: 1
Perception: 2
Luck: 2
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PERKS
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[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
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NEGATIVE PERKS
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[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
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SKILLS
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[Observe]
[Carpentry] (0/100) (Novice)
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(Hidden)
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[Debuff] Autumn Fever
– Mild fever chills and fatigue
– May worsen if untreated
– Reduces maximum energy and slows recovery slightly
_______________________
Arthur wasn't sure why this was hidden it could've been because it was temporary in the end didn't really matter that much at least he was recovering. However, that begged the question of what he was going to do next. He had a family who hated him and close to next to no skills he did have the system, but he wasn't sure how much that would help him.
'I'll need to take advantage of my sword prodigy perk...' he thought to himself as a lay there.
'But where to get a sword...' from his memories a sword wasn't exactly easy to come by for a farmer. Most people who had swords were either blacksmiths or nobles or soldiers and you won't find many of those in Harrowfield. He didn't know that his brother had one, but he also knew that Gregor would rather cut in half then let him use his sword, which put him back to square one.
_____________________
[New Quest Received]
SWORD PRODIGY WITH NO SWORD
Description:
You don't have a sword what kind of prodigy are you
You were born to swing steel not swing your fists like a peasant
Fix this before someone splits your head open
Objective:
– Obtain a good quality sword
Reward:
– [Passive] Weapon Bond (Sword): Slightly increases proficiency with the first sword you wield regularly
– Gain a random sword style
Failure:
– No means to protect yourself
__________________________
Arthur rubbed his chin as he considered where to get a sword from. As of the moment it seemed impossible he had no money to commission one and stealing one was the death sentence. However, there was one way he could increase his skill without having to steal a sword.
Carpentry.
When he had gotten the skill knowledge of the art had flooded his brain it wasn't much, but he knew the basics of working wood. 'I can make myself a wooden sword, maybe that would count' he thought to himself. He pushed himself up on the bed and stood up. His legs were a bit shaky, but he had gained enough strength to at least walk on his own. 'Man that autumn fever really sucks.' he crossed the shed and picked up a small hatchet that was in the corner. Once he regained his memories, he knew that this was where his father stored the word for winter and while it wasn't winter just yet there was quite a bit of wood in here. None of them long enough where he could carve a sword, but it wouldn't be too bad to try and increase his levels.
Using the axe and grabbing a small piece of wood, he sat on his bed and started to carve it. Despite having the knowledge of carpentry that did not translate to muscle memory. And so for a few hours, he had to spend it trying to learn exactly how to translate his knowledge into action.
After his fifth attempt splintered straight down the middle, he let out a sharp breath through his nose and looked at the uneven mess in his hand.
"Oh come on. That was straight. That was actually straight."
He dropped the piece beside the bed. It joined the others.
He grabbed another.
"This is stupid. Why even give me the knowledge if my hands don't know what they're doing?"
He lined the edge of the blade up with the top corner and slowly dragged it down. A curl of wood peeled off. Then it caught. Then it jerked. He stopped and checked the angle again.
"Nope. Still wrong. Still garbage."
Another breath. He rotated the piece. Tried again. The blade stuck halfway and tore off a chunk.
"Brilliant. That's what I wanted. Totally part of the plan."
He put it down, rubbed his wrist, and shook out his hand.
"Feels like I've been doing this for eight hours. Has it even been two?"
He looked at the window. No change in the light. Still grey. Still the same wind brushing against the frame.
"Unbelievable."
He picked up the first carving, turned it in his hands, and squinted.
"What was this supposed to be again? A handle? A spoon? A weapon? Who even knows."
He held it up like it might answer him.
"Guess I could stab someone with it if I tried hard enough."
He dropped it. Picked up a fresh piece. This one was smoother.
"This one. This is the one."
He adjusted his grip. Rolled his shoulders. Took a long breath.
"Nice and slow. Like shaving bread. Like shaving...bread. That doesn't make any sense. Whatever."
He cut. It came off clean. He smiled. Then he did it again.
"Okay. Alright. Maybe not cursed. Maybe just cursed for the first hundred attempts."
The next slice was rough again.
"Nope. Definitely cursed. I was wrong."
He pressed his forehead against the wall and let out a low groan.
"What kind of prodigy spends three hours carving a twig?"
He reached for another piece of wood without thinking, then stopped and stared at the pile.
"...Okay. I have to make something. I'm not stopping until I make something that isn't shaped like a mistake."
Of course he did understand the main cause of the problem. He was using a fucking axe. While it could be used to shave some bark off of wood, it was not made for the creation of anything from wood. He'd need a small dagger for that, of course he didn't have one and the people he knew did would sooner bury that dagger inside him, then give it to him.
Still, he kept going.
The grip was wrong. The weight was wrong. Every time he tried to do something delicate, the blade would either bounce off or take off too much. His fingers were sore from bracing the wood, his wrist ached from fighting the balance of the axe, and he was running out of decent scraps to carve.
He stared at the latest chunk he'd cut.
"...This could be a leg," he said, even though it didn't really look like one. "Like...if the horse was in pain."
He glanced over at one of the longer pieces and grabbed it. Then he wedged the new 'leg' into a notch he'd made earlier.
It barely fit.
He pushed harder.
It snapped off.
He didn't say anything for a moment. Just looked down at it.
Then he nodded slowly. "Yeah. That checks out."
Another hour passed. He changed his approach. He started with the legs this time. Four roughly even bits. He carved them down until they were narrow enough to wedge into the base. He didn't use notches this time. He stabbed the axe into the floor and used the point to drill small holes.
He pressed the legs in. Two stuck. One wobbled. One fell over.
He got them all in, eventually. Then he stuck a wide chunk on top and carved out a vague body. It was flat on one side and crooked on the other, but it held together.
The head was the hardest part. He had to squint just to line it up right. When it was done, it looked more like a lump with a chipped corner than anything with a mouth or eyes, but it was smaller than the body and it was at the front, so he called it a win.
He held it up in both hands.
"...Horse," he said out loud.
It didn't have a tail. One of the legs was still loose. It tilted slightly when he set it down. But it stood.
"Horse," he said again, more certain now. "Yeah. Horse."
He gave it a small push. It tipped over.
"Close enough."
Arthur decided that he couldn't handle any more and so he put the scraps in the corner as well as the hatchet and lay down with his new 'horse'. ' I wonder how that did for my skill.'
[Carpentry] (4/100) (Novice)
"Alright that's it. I'm going to kill myself," he said aloud.
"You're going to what?" a voice said from the door.
Arthur looked up and saw Mira coming in with a tray.
He didn't say anything. He looked away, a little sheepish, and rubbed the side of his head. She closed the door with her foot and walked over like she hadn't heard a word of it.
"I made soup," she said. "It's not as good as mothers, but it's warm."
She set the tray down beside him and knelt, brushing some of the curls away from his forehead. He didn't argue when she picked up the spoon and stirred the bowl.
"Sit up."
He did, slowly. She scooped some up and held it near his mouth.
"Open."
"I can feed myself," he muttered.
"You always say that," she said. "And then you drop half of it or don't eat at all."
He didn't argue. She kept feeding him. They stayed like that for a while.
She looked at his clothes and noticed the sawdust on them. "Did you make something?" she asked.
Arthur pointed to the wooden figure beside his bed without looking. Mira reached over and picked it up. She turned it over a few times in her hand.
"...Is this a horse?" she asked.
"Of sorts," he said.
"Mmm I can see it," she smiled. "It's definitely a horse. It even stands. Sort of."
He looked at it too. Mira brought it closer to her chest and kept staring at it.
"...Can I have it?" she asked.
Arthur looked up at her, surprised. "You want it?"
"I do," she said. "I like it. It's mine now."
"Fine," he said. "You can have the abomination."
She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thanks."
Arthur blinked and felt embarsssement rise up in his chest; especially when her breasts nearly spilled out of her dress, then he cleared his throat.
"...How was your day?" he asked. "Where were you?"
"Oh, me and mother went to town," she said, still turning the little wooden horse in her hands. "They had the autumn stalls out already. We walked through the square. There was a puppet show which was fun."
He smiled faintly.
"Oh, and I saw Elsie."
Arthur's face shifted slightly, memories started flooding back in at the mention of her name.
Mira didn't miss it.
"She asked about you," Mira said.
Arthur didn't say anything.
"She said you haven't been by in weeks. Asked if you were still sick. I told hr that you've been getting better and should be back out soon."
Arthur glanced toward the window.
"She even said she missed you. But don't get any ideas." Mira said with a grin stretching across her face.
"I wasn't," Arthur said.
"Good," Mira said. "Because she's still not good enough for you."
'Not like I am.' A comment that went unsaid
Arthur didn't respond. She fed him the last spoonful and set the bowl back down. Arthur was still thinking about Elsie. Arthur didn't respond. She fed him the last spoonful and set the bowl back down. Arthur was still thinking about Elsie.
He remembered her clearly. She had long red hair that was usually tied back with a strip of cloth, and pale skin that never seemed to tan no matter how much time she spent outside. She was a slender little thing—narrow shoulders, thin arms, and a flat chest. Her hips were small too, barely wider than her waist. But she had a very pretty face. A small nose, soft lips, and big green eyes that stood out more than anything else. Her eyebrows were thin and arched, and she had a quiet way of watching people without saying much. From what his memories told him, Arthur had pretty much fallen in love at first sight.
Arthur used to freeze up around her. Every time she walked past, he'd feel his throat tighten. Sometimes he tried to talk, but the words would come out wrong or too fast, and then he'd go quiet again. She never teased him for it, but they didn't talk much either. Part of that was because of her brothers. They were older and stronger, and his own brothers used to run with them. They didn't like him. Every time they saw him near her, they'd make some comment or shove him or just glare at him until he walked away. They were protective of her and didn't want her spending time with a weak boy like him. Once, one of them told him directly.
'She doesn't need a runt following her around.'
That was the last time Arthur tried to say more than a word to her. After that, they just passed each other. He'd look sometimes, but only when he was sure no one else was watching.
Now that Arthur was different than before (two souls combined in one). He wasn't sure he did love her, he could see why the past Arthur did, but they'd hardly ever spoke. He likely wouldn't bother trying to romance her anymore, not that past Arthur had even bothered.
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[New Quest Received]
HONOUR THY SIMP
Description:
Elsie is someone your past self used to be obsessed with
He wrote bad poems stared too long and probably carved her name into a tree
You may not feel the same but you now carry his memories
Honour him by conquering the maiden
Objective:
– Win Elsie's affection
Reward:
– Otherworld Token
– [Perk] Charmer
Failure:
– Maidenless
– Someone else will do what you cannot
_________________________
'Never mind...' he thought to himself. Arthur now had one other task to put on the already endless list of things he had to do.
'Somehow get good at romancing a woman...' Arthur sighed.
He started thinking it through seriously. Maybe he could try to compliment her hair. Girls liked that, didn't they? Or her eyes. That was safe. But it couldn't be weird. He couldn't just walk up and say "your eyes are green" like some kind of idiot. Maybe if he caught her alone in the market, handed her something small he carved, then said something smooth, like—
"Have you been listening?"
Arthur blinked and looked up. Mira was staring at him.
"Sorry. What?"
She pouted a little and shifted the tray in her lap. "I said... do you want to go on a walk tomorrow? If you're strong enough."
Arthur sat up a bit straighter. His body still ached and every part of him felt drained, but he didn't hesitate.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll go."
She smiled immediately, the kind of soft, full smile that made her eyes light up.
"Good," she said. "You need fresh air. And I don't want to go alone."
Arthur nodded. "I'll manage. Even if it hurts."
Mira seemed genuinely happy with that. Her smile widened, and she reached out to brush his shoulder gently. Then she glanced toward the window and her expression changed.
"Oh—sun's almost down. I promised Mother I'd help with the cows and chickens before it got dark."
Arthur nodded again. "Alright. I'll see you tomorrow then."
She leaned in, still holding the wooden horse tight to her chest. As she kissed his cheek, she pressed forward slightly, and her chest pushed up against his. The contact caught him off guard. His breath caught for a second and heat ran across his skin.
Mira pulled back, still smiling.
"Rest up." Then she turned, opened the door quietly, and stepped outside.
Arthur wasn't sure what he was going to do with Mira. He knew she loved him, but nothing could really come of it, they weren't Targaryens. Plus he had no doubt his father would tear him limb from limb if he dared to put a hand on his golden goose. But that being said he couldn't leave her to her fate, his sister was the only bright part in his life; even if he wasn't the same Arthur as before, the memories and feelings that came with this body were hard to deny.
He wouldn't let her be taken.
But in doing that, it also meant he couldn't stay in Harrowfield. Not that he wanted to stay to begin with, but in all honesty, he wasn't sure what he'd do once he left. He didn't know how to read or write. He didn't have many trade skills. Carpentry was something, maybe, but he was still hacking away at scrap wood with a hatchet and calling it a horse. If he wanted to, he could build up that skill. Go full-time with it. Become a carpenter.
Yeah. That would be fun...
He wanted more than that. More than this. He wasn't put in this body with this System just to rot like every other peasant.
'There's a reason it chose me. There has to be.'
If he didn't take advantage of it, he'd be a damn fool.
He thought about other options. He had the Sword Prodigy trait. He could fight. Maybe not well yet, but better than most if he trained. That opened doors. Soldier, maybe. Sellsword. There were always wars somewhere. Always lords who needed steel and bodies.
Would Mira want a life like that? On the road, around blood and death?
Maybe not. But it was still better than what she had planned—getting sold off like breeding stock to some merchant in a neighboring village, passed from one awful life to another.
He could squire for someone. A hedge knight, maybe. If he could scrounge up enough coin to convince one to take him. Even then, that was a long shot. No name, no family backing, no training.
He sighed.
Let's be realistic.
Before anything else, he needed to build the skills that would let him survive. On his own. Out there. With her. Otherwise, they'd both end up dead in a ditch before winter. Tracking. Foraging. Archery. Fire-making. Basic hunting. Navigation. Fishing. First aid. Weather reading. Anything that would let him live without a roof or a village.
He didn't know any of them.
If I don't learn this stuff, we die.
It was that simple.
He looked at the ceiling. There was a crack running along the top beam.
He'd start tomorrow.
For now he had to rest, he could still feel the lingering sickness in his body. Hopefully it will be better tomorrow.
______________________________
[Emergency Quest Triggered]
WHAT'S THIS THEN, BOY?
Description:
Your father has just found the little horse you made for Mira
He put two and two together and came up with an excuse to beat the shit out of you
You need to act fast or this ends with blood on the floor and bones out of place
Objective:
– Escape from your father
Bonus Objective:
– Stand up to him
Bonus Objective 2:
– Get a good hit in
Reward:
– +1 Dexterity
– Otherworldly Token
– Random Skill
Failure:
– Get beaten bloody
– Possible death
_______________________
'Hehe... sorry?'
Arthur sat up in his bed, wondering if what he was seeing was merely an illusion or actually real.
*Thud*
*Thud*
*Thud*
*Thud*
"BOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!"
"That... is very not good,"
(AN: Second chapter just a bit of an info dump to show you what the main goal is for the beginning of this story. Arthur needs to get the hell out of dodge and do so with his sexy sister. Some of you may be wondering will there be sex. Damn right there will be. Also there is gonna be a lot of OC characters since Harrowfield is made up. They aren't very important and will not be too relevant after Arthur leaves. Don't worry this is a game of thrones fic and there will be lots of canon characters. Anyway hope you enjoyed the chapter.)
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