After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Arthur got straight to the point and said, "I need to recruit ten new soldiers, a squire, and… a blacksmith."
Walter raised an eyebrow at the last request, clearly surprised.
The first two demands made perfect sense to him, but a blacksmith? That was unusual.
He couldn't help but point it out. "Arthur, the blacksmiths in this village can barely fix farm tools or forge a few spearheads. If you just need weapons repaired, there's no need to recruit a blacksmith specifically."
Arthur smiled faintly, his tone calm but resolute. "Uncle, don't worry. I have my reasons."
Seeing Arthur's confidence, Walter didn't press further and readily agreed. "Alright, if you insist, no problem. As it happens, there's a batch of young militia who just finished their training. They're all strong lads. I've already asked around—forget ten, even twenty wouldn't be an issue if you needed them. As for the blacksmith, the old smith's son is about your age. He's probably picked up some skills and should be able to help."
Walter had clearly prepared for this. His arrangements were thorough, even more so than Arthur had expected.
Arthur nodded and added, "I'll also need to buy a house, and it'd be great if I could borrow the training grounds."
Walter laughed heartily and waved him off. "Buy a house? No need for that. The constabulary has a training ground on the outskirts of the farmland. It's fully equipped. You can stay there—it'll save me the trouble."
Arthur thought it over and found the suggestion reasonable. Why spend money unnecessarily? He knew he couldn't completely sever ties with his family, so he might as well take advantage of the perks while he could.
With Walter, the local "big shot," helping out, Arthur's preparations went unusually smoothly.
In just one day, everything he needed was arranged perfectly.
Beds, bedding, daily necessities—even food wasn't an issue. Walter had sacks of wheat delivered directly, saving Arthur even more trouble.
On top of that, other relatives pitched in with practical gifts:
Uncle Robert sent thirty spearheads.
Uncle Gregory contributed three sets of simple leather armor.
Aunt Eleanor had five iron swords delivered through a messenger.
Looking at the pile of gifts, Arthur couldn't help but marvel inwardly: The life of a noble really is something else. Ordinary folks could never dream of this.
In just one day, without spending a single coin, he had almost everything he needed.
And when he glanced at the twelve strong young men standing before him, he nearly started humming a tune. This was the privilege of nobility—no knight of common birth could ever enjoy such treatment.
The gifts from his relatives ranged in value from two to five gold coins each. Arthur knew that if he hadn't chosen to leave the family and strike out on his own, the quantity and quality of these gifts would have been far less impressive.
With these basics in place, Arthur's first order of business was to build a forge with his new recruits. That's right—his plan had always included this: a forge of his own.
The blacksmith's son, Little Tyler, officially joined the team and was added to the "Army" section of Arthur's system interface:
Tyler
Profession: Army Blacksmith, Level 1 (63/100)
Experience Pool: 0/100
Arthur realized that the system's scope was broader than he'd imagined. This newly unlocked feature opened up even more possibilities for him.
Compared to the blood-soaked life of an adventurer, he was starting to think that the arms trade might be a far more lucrative path.
Especially when it came to high-value weapons and equipment—the profits were staggering.
A full suit of heavy armor could sell for as much as seventy gold coins. How many years would it take an ordinary person to earn that much?
So, while the other eleven recruits began their basic training, Little Tyler started his journey as a blacksmith.
In truth, being a blacksmith was more than enough to support an entire family.
As for why Little Tyler ended up in the military camp? The answer was simple: "volunteering." When the young lord of a baron's family takes an interest in you, do you really have a choice? Refuse, and you might find your entire family meeting with an "accident" the next day.
Little Tyler had already resigned himself to the idea of becoming a soldier.
But when he arrived at the training grounds, his first task wasn't to pick up a weapon—it was to build a simple forge and set up a workbench.
Arthur handed him a hammer, his tone so gentle it was almost unsettling. "Little Tyler, your family has been blacksmiths for generations. If you're missing anything, feel free to go home and get it. I'll cover the cost."
Little Tyler was at a loss, stammering nervously, "I… I… I can only make farm tools and fix damaged weapons." He was on the verge of tears, terrified that Arthur might expect him to forge high-quality weapons and armor. If he produced subpar work, wouldn't he be risking his head?
Arthur simply smiled, patting him on the shoulder with a relaxed tone. "I know. Just start by making some spearheads for training. Don't worry about the quality—I won't hold it against you."
Arthur's attitude seemed reassuring, but Little Tyler still wasn't entirely convinced.
The word of a noble… Well, to be fair, the Ashford family did have a reputation for keeping their promises.
That evening, Little Tyler returned home and recounted everything that had happened under Arthur's command to his father, Old Tyler, in painstaking detail.
After hearing the story, Old Tyler's face turned pale, then flushed red with anger. Finally, he let out a long sigh, silently packed up every usable blacksmithing tool and material in the house, and personally delivered them to the training grounds.
"If Arthur hadn't refused, I'd have gone in your place to suffer this nonsense!" Old Tyler grumbled as he hauled the supplies.
He knew full well that Arthur's demands were far beyond what Little Tyler could handle. This wasn't just work—it was borderline torment.
Arthur didn't bother explaining himself. He simply maintained the authoritative demeanor of a baron's son, leaving Tyler's family with no choice but to comply.
Before leaving, Old Tyler looked at his son with red-rimmed eyes and spoke earnestly, "Son, you've got to hold on. You're my only child—I'm counting on you to take care of me in my old age!"
Little Tyler's eyes welled up with tears, his heart filled with anxiety and unease. But as soon as Old Tyler returned home, he shut the door and turned to his wife, saying, "We need to hurry up and have another kid!"
It's said that for the next few days, Old Tyler's smithy remained closed, and not a single fire was lit in the forge.
...
Meanwhile, Little Tyler began his blacksmithing career. Under Arthur's supervision, he built a simple forge and lit its first fire. Though Little Tyler was filled with apprehension, Arthur's attitude remained calm and even encouraging. "Take it slow. Start with simple spearheads. Don't put too much pressure on yourself."
But reality wasn't so forgiving.
The next day, the new recruits began their basic training. Arthur stood in the center of the training grounds, sword in hand, calmly instructing them. "Thrust! Recover! Thrust!"
Crack!
A sharp snapping sound interrupted the rhythm of the training. One of the recruits' spearheads had broken clean off. Everyone froze, their eyes instinctively turning to Arthur.
Arthur's expression didn't change. He glanced coldly at the broken spearhead and said in an even tone, "What are you staring at? Do you think the enemy on the battlefield will wait for you to switch weapons? Keep going—thrust!"
The recruits didn't dare slack off and gritted their teeth as they continued training. Meanwhile, Little Tyler stood off to the side, his face burning with shame. He kept his head down, unable to meet anyone's gaze.
He knew all too well that the broken spearhead was one of his creations.
After training ended, Arthur approached Little Tyler. His tone was still calm. "The quality of the spearheads isn't good enough, but that's okay. Take your time and improve. Failure is part of the process."
Arthur's attitude eased Little Tyler's nerves slightly, but he still felt a heavy weight in his chest. He silently vowed to improve his skills as quickly as possible.
...
In the days that followed, Arthur's training and blacksmithing plans proceeded methodically.
Walter occasionally stopped by to check on Arthur's progress. Though he didn't say much, he clearly had his doubts about Arthur's approach. He was especially critical of Little Tyler's blacksmithing work and repeatedly tried to dissuade Arthur from wasting time on it.
"Arthur, that blacksmith of yours is barely competent. Don't expect him to produce anything worthwhile. You'd be better off buying ready-made weapons from the town—it'd save you time and effort."
Arthur, however, remained unmoved. He simply replied, "Uncle, don't worry. I have my own plans."
Seeing that Arthur wouldn't listen, Walter gave up and thought to himself, Let the boy learn the hard way. A little failure won't hurt him, and it's not like this will cost much.
...
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
Arthur opened his system interface to check on his team's progress. Thanks to the intense training regimen and strict standards, all eleven recruits had reached level 5 or higher, making them qualified militia.
Little Tyler's progress was slower, but he had still managed to reach level 3:
Tyler
Profession: Army Blacksmith, Level 3 (23/100)
Experience Pool: 0/100
However, Arthur noticed that as Little Tyler's level increased, his experience gain had slowed significantly. At the current rate, it would take at least another month for him to level up again.
That said, Little Tyler's blacksmithing skills had improved noticeably.
The spearheads he forged were finally up to standard. Each one cost only 30 copper coins to produce but could easily sell for 70 to 80 copper coins. On average, Little Tyler could forge three to five spearheads a day, generating a profit of around 200 copper coins.
According to the official exchange rates, 1 gold coin equaled 10 silver coins, and 1 silver coin equaled 100 copper coins.
While market rates fluctuated slightly, even so, a competent blacksmith could earn at least 1.5 silver coins a day—two to three gold coins a year. That was three times the income of an ordinary soldier.
And if his skills improved further, his earnings would only increase.
But Little Tyler didn't have a choice in the matter. He had signed a contract of servitude, binding him to Arthur's service.
Run away? He wouldn't dare.