The morning air carried a crispness that hadn't been there before. Though the sun still shone bright, its warmth no longer clung to the skin the way it had in the peak of summer. The winds from the north had begun their slow descent, signaling the gradual shift toward autumn.
Alexander stood at the entrance of Gareth's makeshift forge, watching as the blacksmith turned the mysterious ingot over in his calloused hands.
"It's not iron," Gareth muttered, his eyes narrowed. "It's heavier, denser. The way it cooled after melting... it doesn't behave like anything I've worked with before."
Alexander crossed his arms. "Can it be reforged?"
Gareth exhaled through his nose. "I think so. But I need a proper setup. The forge we have now can barely melt crude iron. If we're going to work with this metal, we need something stronger—more heat, better tools."
Alexander nodded. "What do you need?"
"Clay for a proper furnace. A steady supply of coal or something hotter. And workers—I can't do this alone."
Alexander glanced outside, where the settlement bustled with movement. People had already fallen into their assigned roles, working tirelessly to reinforce Emberhold's defenses and maintain what little order they had.
"If we can get this metal working, what can you make?" Alexander asked.
Gareth ran a thumb over the ingot's surface. "Depends on its properties. If it's stronger than iron but still flexible, we're looking at better weapons, armor, maybe even tools that won't break after a season."
Alexander's mind worked through the implications. If they could produce something no one else had, they could dictate the terms of trade instead of being at the mercy of others.
"Get started," Alexander said. "Use whatever resources you can find. If this metal is as valuable as you think, we'll build the industry around it."
Gareth gave a sharp nod. "I'll need Owen and his builders to help set up the new forge."
"I'll send them your way."
As Alexander turned to leave, a familiar system notification flashed before his eyes.
[New Industry Established: Small-Scale Metallurgy]
[Innovator Path Level 1 Unlocked]
He paused, letting the information settle. So this was the trigger.
The system had always rewarded action over intention. He had been forced to earn every advantage, not through arbitrary choices but through tangible progress.
The Innovator Path was the first step toward something greater. A future where survival was no longer their only goal.
Building the First Workshops
With the forge underway, Alexander shifted his focus to the next task—creating small-scale production.
Owen and his builders had already started expanding workstations. The first few crafting tables had been set up near Gareth's forge, where workers began shaping crude tools from salvaged materials.
The process was slow, inefficient. But it was a beginning.
Elias arrived as Alexander observed the work. "You're really betting on this, aren't you?"
"It's not a bet," Alexander said. "It's the only path forward. Food is running out. If we can't produce something valuable, we'll starve before winter."
Elias glanced at the workers, his expression unreadable. "And if the Baron or someone else catches wind that we're making weapons?"
Alexander's jaw tightened. "Then we make sure they don't get the chance to use them against us."
They both knew what that meant. Every advantage they gained had to be protected.
The Trade Dilemma
That afternoon, Owen returned with an update from their first trade attempt.
"We secured some food," Owen reported, "but not much. The village didn't have enough to spare, and what they gave us came at a steep price."
Alexander studied the meager supplies laid out before him. It wouldn't last long.
"What did they want in return?"
Owen hesitated. "Weapons. More than we gave them. They're afraid of something, and they're arming themselves fast."
Silas, who had been listening nearby, stepped forward. "This confirms what we suspected. Something is pushing into the region, and people are preparing for the worst."
Tyrell joined them, arms crossed. "Could be bandits getting bolder. Could be something worse. Either way, it means more conflict is coming."
Alexander's mind raced through the possibilities. Selling weapons could secure food—but it also meant putting arms in the hands of potential enemies.
"Weapons are off the table for now," Alexander decided. "We trade tools, nothing more. If they're desperate for weapons, that means they're vulnerable. We keep our options open."
Owen nodded but still looked uneasy. "If we don't get more food soon, we'll have to start taking bigger risks."
Alexander exhaled. He already knew that.
The changing season was a reminder that time was against them.
A New Threat Looms
By nightfall, as the first stars began to prick through the darkening sky, one of Tyrell's scouts returned in a hurry.
"There's movement near the old trade roads," the scout reported, his voice tight with urgency. "Too organized for bandits."
Alexander tensed. "How many?"
"A few dozen riders, from what we saw. Well-armed. We couldn't get close enough to see their banners, but they're moving with purpose."
Silas spoke up. "Mercenaries. Or worse."
Alexander's expression darkened.
If someone was moving troops through the region, it meant the situation was escalating faster than expected.
And Emberhold would soon be caught in the storm.