Roland woke up at the crack of dawn, his mind buzzing with anticipation. "System, sign in," he muttered, his eyes still heavy with sleep. The system's daily rewards had become a routine, even if most of the items weren't immediately useful.
"Sign-in successful. Congratulations to the host for obtaining a Lava Forging Furnace (small)*1."
Roland sat up, blinking in surprise. "A lava forging furnace?" He chuckled. "What am I supposed to do with that? I can't forge magic equipment...wait." His mind raced as he realized the potential.
Without wasting another second, Roland bolted out of his tent and made his way to Ladir's quarters. He found the old mage lazily tending to a set of gryphon eggs, their shells gleaming faintly in the morning light.
Ladir, noticing Roland's hasty approach, frowned deeply. "Your Highness, it's barely morning. Can you not let an old man enjoy his breakfast in peace?"
Roland grinned sheepishly, scratching his head. "I stumbled upon something big, Mr. Ladir. I got a lava forging furnace from the system."
Ladir's expression shifted from annoyance to disbelief. "A lava forging furnace? For what purpose? We're in no position to forge magic equipment."
"I know, I know," Roland replied quickly. "But what if we used it to repair our soldiers' gear? Our current equipment is falling apart, and we can't rely on the dwarves for everything."
Ladir eyed Roland skeptically. "You want to use a high-end furnace for basic repairs? That's like using a dragon's breath to light a campfire."
"Maybe," Roland admitted, "but we can't let our soldiers go into battle with dull swords and broken armor. This furnace could be the answer."
The mage sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging. "I suppose you have a point. We can't afford to let the troops fight with shoddy equipment. But starting that furnace requires magic crystals or a magician's power. It's not a simple task."
Roland nodded, his determination unwavering. "I know. But it's a risk worth taking. I've got nearly a thousand magic crystals from the shadow spiders we defeated. That should be enough to keep the furnace running for a while."
Reluctantly, Ladir agreed. "Fine, but don't expect miracles. And if you think I'm building that blacksmith shop, think again."
Roland laughed, knowing full well that Ladir would help. "Don't worry, I'll handle the construction. Just point me to a good spot."
Ladir sighed again, this time more out of resignation than frustration. Together, they found a suitable location, and Roland quickly set his men to work. As the sun rose higher, the camp came alive with activity. Archers prepared for their daily fishing, while the knights and city guards resumed their construction work.
As the blacksmith shop took shape, Roland turned to Carlos. "Go to Irube and ask the dwarves for some iron anvils and steel. We'll need them to get the forge up and running." He tossed Carlos a storage ring, another gift from the system, capable of holding vast amounts of material.
By midday, the blacksmith shop was complete. Ladir, though visibly exhausted from the effort, managed a small smile. "It's done, Your Highness. Now you just need a blacksmith."
Roland nodded and sent Reynold to search the camp. Before long, Reynold returned with a timid man dressed in rags.
"This citizen used to be a blacksmith, Your Highness," Reynold reported.
Roland sized up the man, who looked ready to bolt at any moment. "What's your name?"
"R-Ren, Your Highness," the man stammered.
"Can you still forge?" Roland asked, keeping his tone gentle.
Ren nodded quickly. "Yes, Your Highness."
"Good. When Carlos returns with the supplies, I want you to start repairing the knights' equipment. Can you handle that?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Ren replied, a bit more confidently this time.
Satisfied, Roland turned to inspect the newly installed forge. The lava furnace, a formidable piece of equipment, would be the lifeline they desperately needed. Unlike conventional forges, this one required no fuel; it was powered by hellfire, ignited by magic.
As Roland busied himself with final preparations, a group of archers returned from their morning fishing expedition, their expressions grim.
Roland looked up, sensing something was amiss. "What's wrong?"
One of the archers, a seasoned veteran, stepped forward. "Your Highness, we need to talk. There's something you should see."
Roland's heart sank, but he kept his voice steady. "Show me."
The day had started with promise, but Roland knew better than to believe that fortune alone would see them through. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it head-on, as always.
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