Reassignment to Camp B was today. Exill struggled to get up, his tongue felt like dry sandpaper, and the effects of the most atrocious hangover heaved his empty stomach. He dry retched a couple times before looking over at Verill, who wasn't faring any better. He patted his pockets looking for his coin pouch. Blinking blearily as slow panic began to set in. Thankfully he hadn't lost it, but it was significantly lighter.
'I have no regrets.' Exill closed his emerald eyes.
Last night was the last time he could spend freely with Verill. He hadn't realised it at the time, but both of them needed a pick-me-up, perhaps more so for Verill. The Ranger had simultaneously lost his woman and closest friend, and was leaving to face an uncertain future. Collecting his belongings, he embraced the similarly hungover Verill one last time, savouring the warmth of their friendship, "You take care of yourself." Exill whispered.
"Don't worry, I'm too good-looking to die." Verill joked back.
Reluctantly, Exill looked over his shoulders one last time before dragging leaden feet to his new quarters. He felt his brows knit together in a frown as he recognised the stubborn figure pacing in front of his barracks.
"Where were you me lad! You worried me sick when you didn't come to the forge yesterday! You're late and we have much work to do!" The dwarf dragged hungover Exill to the forge while he explained the increased quota and how many arrowheads he expected him to make in a day.
Exill reluctantly donned his apron and gloves and started hammering away at the heated metal, wincing as the clang of metal threatened to split his skull. The hot forge was painful for his dehydrated throat, so he frequently took breaks in defiance of the Dwarf's watchful glare.
Come mid-afternoon, a lone trumpet resonated through the air, signifying the end of combat sessions for militia recruits. Except, classes had been dismissed several days ago. This sound marked the end of training.
"I'm stepping out." Exill told the Dwarf.
"Hmph. Don't take too long."
He waded through the gathered crowds to witness a column of newly minted soldiers filing out of camp. They were equipped with the best gear produced within these very walls and looked resplendent in them. However, the column soon withdrew from view, and he returned to workshop, feeling an empty hole in his heart where his friend used to be.
***
Two months passed in the blink of an eye.
Exill received a letter from Verill informing him that he had been assigned to the southeastern front near Seaford where he was safe, there was minimal danger as the two sides were deadlocked in a stalemate.
Exill wrote a reply letter bemoaning the worsening rations and the bastard dwarf with his unreasonable quotas. He had also managed to acquire training boots that had the [EXP Plus] enchantment. They were brass capped leather boots in decent condition, inconspicuous unlike the Blacksmith's Apron. This allowed him to wear it at all times. They had cost 300 Denars for the pair and though he winced at the cost, it was a bargain deal, considering a newer pair could cost anywhere from 5-600 Denars.
The intermediate goal was to acquire more training gear. Compressing the time required to train and improve jobs was a worthwhile investment. Not that he could fully exploit it due to the attention it would garner; he estimated it would take two more months of work at the current rate of 8x EXP before he could progress to [Expert Blacksmith].
'The war will not last forever and I need to be prepared to leave this camp when that happens.' He thought grimly.
Information had been cultivated from those refugees who had visited Ark before, back when the Kingdom was at peace. He had gathered details on the various ongoings of Ark, the cost of registering at the Mercenary Guild, and even the day-to-day cost of staying and eating at an inn.
One of the more interesting facts he had learned was the existence of the Royal Library. Talking with Verill and the others, it readily became apparent that books were a scarce and treasured resources in this world. That might be why the Library required a 1,000 Denar entry deposit for residents.
Ark was an expensive city to live in, many times more what it would cost a villager to live out in the countryside. This was balanced by one crucial detail that still blew his mind to this day. The Labyrinth Tower of Ark!
Even from outside the city walls he could see a tiered circular monolith reminiscent of the Tower of Babel, reaching for the skies. There was a complex theory that the Tower acted as a seal to compress and limit further expansion of the dungeon. It was said that the Labyrinth itself was a simple mound in the dirt with a dimensional portal that split up adventurers unless they were in a party.
Exill would need to save up a minimum of 120 Denars to transition into a Mercenary. Yet he still needed to purchase more gear!
'I managed to secretly craft a spearhead of my own, I can attach it to a stave at any time once I leave this place. I just need some armour to protect my torso and legs.' He was in the process of bribing a leatherworker in Camp C to craft him a set of protective armour. The individual had estimated it would take a few more weeks to collect the scraps necessary to craft it. 80 Denars had already been set aside for the purchase. It was a fantastic deal for the scrap armour set, considering a full leather set could easily cost 10x that amount!
Sighing, he continued pounding at the red-hot incandescent metal against the anvil. He was looking forward to the end of the war. He was tired of gruel and oatmeal, but more importantly, he prayed Verill would return safe and sound.