The watchtower's second floor groaned under the weight of scavenged wood and stone as Ardyn leaned over a makeshift map drawn in charcoal. The crude sketch outlined the surrounding ruins, each line marked with points of interest: the market square, the grove they'd harvested wood from, and a new location circled heavily—a workshop, tucked deeper into the abandoned district.
Ardyn's gaze lingered on the circled point, his mind racing with the possibilities. If the rumors Calden had shared were true, the workshop wasn't just another ruin. It was home to an old craftsman, someone who had once worked for the Elite Houses before disappearing into the slums.
If he was still there, Ardyn needed him.
"Let me get this straight," Calden said, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "You want us to recruit some guy we've never met, who might not even be alive, and who definitely doesn't want to be found?"
Ardyn didn't look up. "That's the idea."
"And what if he says no?"
"Then we convince him," Ardyn replied, his tone sharp. "One way or another."
Calden sighed, shaking his head. "Why do I feel like that's becoming your motto?"
Ardyn smirked faintly but didn't respond. Instead, he stood, rolling up the map and tucking it into his belt. "Get your gear. We leave in ten minutes."
The workshop lay in the heart of a crumbling neighborhood, its narrow streets lined with sagging rooftops and shattered windows. The air here was thicker, the ashfall heavier as if even the wind had forgotten this place existed.
Ardyn moved carefully, his steps silent as he scanned the surroundings. Calden followed close behind, his bow at the ready. The workshop loomed ahead, its squat, stone structure still intact despite the decay around it. A faint glow emanated from a window, and the faint sound of metal striking metal reached their ears.
"He's here," Calden whispered.
Ardyn nodded, approaching the heavy wooden door. He raised a hand to knock, then paused, his instincts prickling. Something wasn't right.
System Notification:
Potential Hostile Presence Detected. Proceed with Caution.
Ardyn cursed under his breath, motioning for Calden to take cover. He drew his dagger, pressing his ear to the door. The rhythmic sound of hammering had stopped, replaced by muffled voices.
"I told you," a gravelly voice said, low and angry. "I'm not working for you."
"You don't have a choice," another voice replied, colder and more calculated. "You either make weapons for us, or we see how long you last without our protection."
Ardyn exchanged a glance with Calden, his expression grim. "Guild enforcers," he whispered.
"Great," Calden muttered. "How many?"
"Doesn't matter," Ardyn said. "We deal with them. Quietly."
They slipped inside through a side window, the darkened interior of the workshop illuminated by the dim glow of a forge. The air was hot and metallic, the walls lined with tools and half-finished weapons.
In the center of the room, a hunched figure sat on a stool, his gnarled hands gripping a hammer. His face was weathered and scarred, his grey hair tied back in a loose braid. Three men stood around him, their weapons drawn and their postures menacing.
"We're not asking," the leader said, a scarred man with a cruel smile. "We're telling. Start forging, or we'll make an example out of you."
The craftsman didn't respond, his jaw clenched in silent defiance.
Ardyn moved before Calden could react, his dagger flashing as he slipped behind the nearest enforcer. The man didn't even have time to scream before the blade found his throat.
The other two spun around, their eyes widening as Ardyn stepped into the light.
"Leave," he said coldly, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Now."
The leader sneered, drawing a short sword. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?"
"Your last mistake," Ardyn replied, lunging forward.
The fight was brutal and quick. Calden's arrow caught one of the enforcers in the shoulder, sending him sprawling. The leader swung his sword at Ardyn, but the smaller man dodged effortlessly, his dagger carving a deep gash across the enforcer's arm.
Within moments, the remaining enforcers were either dead or fleeing into the night, leaving the workshop eerily silent.
The craftsman stood slowly, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied Ardyn. "You didn't need to kill them," he said, his voice gravelly but calm.
"They weren't going to leave," Ardyn replied, wiping his blade clean. "And neither are we."
The craftsman frowned. "What do you want?"
"You," Ardyn said bluntly. "I need someone with your skills. Someone who can build weapons, traps, fortifications—whatever it takes to survive."
The craftsman let out a bitter laugh. "And what makes you think I'm interested in surviving?"
"You wouldn't have fought them off this long if you weren't," Ardyn countered. "You're still here because you want to live. I can give you a reason to keep fighting."
The older man stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, setting his hammer down. "You're bold. I'll give you that. But boldness doesn't keep you alive in Drakmoor."
"No," Ardyn said. "Planning does. And I've got one."
The craftsman's lips twitched, as if fighting a smile. "What's your name, kid?"
"Ardyn."
The craftsman nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll hear you out. But if you're lying to me, you won't need the guild to finish you off."
"Fair enough," Ardyn said, extending a hand. "What do I call you?"
"Grath," the craftsman replied, gripping his hand firmly. "And you'd better make this worth my time."
By the time they returned to the watchtower, dawn was breaking, the grey light casting long shadows across the ruins. Grath surveyed the tower with a critical eye, his hands resting on his hips.
"This place is a death trap," he said bluntly.
"Not for long," Ardyn replied.
Grath snorted but didn't argue. Instead, he strode toward the barricades, inspecting the makeshift defenses with a practiced hand. "These won't hold against anything serious," he said. "But I can fix that. If you get me the right materials."
"What do you need?" Ardyn asked.
"Wood, stone, and metal," Grath said. "And not the scrap you've been using. Real materials. There's an old quarry southeast of here—still has what we need. Problem is, it's crawling with mercenaries."
"Then we'll deal with them," Ardyn said simply.
Grath raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You're either the dumbest kid I've met, or the gutsiest. Either way, this should be interesting."
Quest Complete:
Recruit a Skilled Craftsman. Reward Allocated.
Reward: Construction Blueprint – Defensive Enhancements._
New Quest Available:
Secure the Quarry. Reward: Advanced Crafting Tools.
Ardyn watched as the notifications faded, his mind already racing with the next steps. The watchtower was becoming more than just a refuge. It was the start of something bigger.
And he wasn't going to stop.