Knight: from Apprentice to the Almighty

’Since there’s a Knight stationed here, there probably won’t be any major trouble. If worst comes to worst...’

’Once I get used to the daily life of a Blacksmith Apprentice, I’ll find some time to go ask Mr. Bronson for advice. Maybe he’ll know something...’

Having made up his mind, Roland got up and cleared the leftovers from the table, then exhaustedly fell onto his bed.

Unlike the communal sleeping platform he’d slept on before, which was as hard as a stone slab, this bed was surprisingly soft and comfortable.

Exhaustion washed over him like a tide, and Roland was asleep almost the instant his head hit the pillow.

Early the next morning, Roland remembered George’s advice and arrived at the Blacksmith Shop just as dawn was breaking.

"Very good! Not a single one of you is missing!"

Hawke’s booming voice echoed through the spacious hall.

His arms were crossed, and his sharp gaze swept over each apprentice’s face one by one.

When his gaze passed over Roland, he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Now, I will assign today’s tasks..."

After assigning the work, Hawke gave a few more reminders before hurriedly leaving the Blacksmith Shop.

The task was unexpectedly simple.

Perhaps because the spring planting season was approaching, they weren’t forging weapons or Armor today, but all sorts of farm tools.

Since their structure was much simpler than that of weapons and equipment, Roland only needed a quick glance at the blueprints before skillfully starting to pump the bellows.

"CLANG CLANG CLANG!"

Accompanied by the crisp sound of metal striking metal, the iron head of a hoe quickly took shape.

Roland deftly fitted it to a smoothly polished oak handle, his movements fluid and unbroken.

Just then, a line of golden text suddenly appeared before his eyes:

[A finished tool has been forged. Basic Forging Skill has gained 1 experience point.]

’Farm tools count as finished tools, too?’

Roland’s eyes lit up, and a wave of delight washed over him.

He had thought only proper weapons and Armor would be recognized by the system, which had been a source of considerable frustration.

After all, forging even the simplest Iron Sword would take him at least half a day with his current skill.

If he periodically activated his [Concentration] Trait to help, like he did during yesterday’s evaluation, his efficiency would certainly increase, but the drain was too great to be sustainable.

At this rate, raising his Basic Forging Skill from Level One to Level Two by completing the 100 basic tools required by the Professional Panel would take three to six months, at the very least.

But now, things were different.

Compared to fine weapons and equipment, farm tools were not only simpler to forge, but they also saved time and effort.

At this thought, Roland’s hand, which was gripping the hammer, trembled slightly, his eyes shining with excitement.

He swiftly finished his own tasks, neatly stacking the last hoe in the finished goods area.

As he straightened up, Roland’s gaze involuntarily drifted toward the other apprentices’ work areas.

He saw that most of them only had two or three farm tools next to them and were gathered in small groups, chatting idly.

It wasn’t that they were slacking off.

The workload Hawke had assigned was lenient; even the slowest apprentice had more than enough time in a day to finish, let alone someone like Roland who could complete it in half a day.

Seeing this, a glint flashed in Roland’s eyes.

He clearly remembered George saying that every step of the process in the Blacksmith Shop, from raw materials to finished products, had to be strictly recorded.

This kind of standardized management meant he could no longer secretly appropriate ore to forge whatever he wanted, like he had during his prior training.

But relying only on the workload assigned by Hawke was woefully inadequate for quickly improving his Basic Forging Skill.

Roland wiped the sweat from his hands as a plan gradually formed in his mind.

"Mr. George."

Roland walked over to where George was laughing and chatting.

"Oh, it’s you, Roland."

George turned his head and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"How many times have I told you? Just call me George. Did you run into some trouble?"

"No, it’s not that..."

Roland smiled shyly and pointed to his workbench.

"I’ve already finished my tasks. I saw you weren’t done yet and thought I could come help out, as a way to thank you for your help yesterday."

George was taken aback for a moment, then burst into a hearty laugh.

"Ha! You’re a hardworking kid!"

He looked at Roland’s energetic and vibrant form, as if seeing himself back when he first started in the trade.

That young hothead who was so passionate about forging he wished he could spend all day in the Blacksmith Shop.

"But that’s not necessary."

George waved his hand.

"It’s almost lunchtime. Since you’re finished, why don’t you go eat first."

He lowered his voice and winked slyly.

"Don’t worry, I won’t tell Master Hawke you left early."

"George, you’ve misunderstood."

Roland quickly explained.

"I genuinely want to help."

George exchanged a look with the apprentice next to him, then finally shrugged in resignation.

"Alright, you stubborn kid. But let me be clear up front..."

"I understand!"

Roland immediately cut in, thumping his chest.

"If Master Hawke asks, I’ll just say my technique is poor and I specifically asked you for guidance!"

"You little rascal..."

George couldn’t help but chuckle. He waved for Roland to go ahead, then turned back to chat with his companion.

Permission granted, Roland felt as if he had struck gold and immediately rushed off to grab some ore.

As the lunch bell rang, Roland managed to successfully complete George’s tasks just before the break.

Watching the Experience Points tick up on his system panel, he hummed a little tune as he headed to the dining hall.

Compared to the simple meals of his previous apprenticeship, the food here was practically a luxury.

Although the staple was still black bread, the side dishes were much more lavish.

The delicious fish soup glistened with oil, thick-cut slices of cured meat shone with an amber luster, two boiled eggs lay quietly on the plate, and next to them was a small pat of golden butter.