Resurgence Of The Rogue Blacksmith

'Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later…' Raphael cursed his luck, as he considered the patterns he had received.

His heart ached a bit, as he put away the three precious books. Now that he had absorbed their knowledge, they would no longer be available for use to other players. This was a typical mechanic that other games before Origo had also used - using a skill book consumed its knowledge. The core difference was that in previous games, skill books were consumables, while in Origo they would remain. Players could still read the information available within the books, but it would be far harder and more technical to put it into practice. If Raphael had stumbled upon the used Smelting book, it would have sped up the unlocking of the systems he required, but not by much.

The light throwing knives could be useful for both himself and other players, but as there was no way to trade items before getting to a town, he could only craft some for himself. The hatchet and the miner's pick on the other hand would be entirely useless to him - he was neither a lumberjack, nor was he going to go into mines to get ores. The only plausible use for a miner's pick was if he needed some high-grade ores, but those could be obtained from looting monsters or from high-yield ore veins, which typically required Rare equipment to be mined. Plus, he did not have the Mining skill, which would enable him to properly mine ores in the first place.

With a sigh, Raphael closed the Knowledge Repository. Even if he wanted to craft something, he had to wait for a resource delivery, which could take a few days by what he remembered. Apprentices would receive free resources, but they would never be enough. What he needed right now was money! And the quickest way to get some would be to find himself a few easy quests.

Raphael closed the door as he left the library and made his way to his master's room, knocking on the door, before letting himself in.

Ziah Bires looked up from the book he was reading.

"Back so soon? Don't tell me you're done already, that room has enough reading material for a whole town's worth!"

"I have indeed learned as much as I could from the wealth of knowledge you've amassed, Master Bires," Raphael said, stopping himself from criticizing Bires' literary preferences. "I'd like to find something to do, to make a bit of money. Blacksmithing is very expensive, after all…"

"Aye, that it is," Ziah noted, scratching his head as he considered the problem. "Well, I don't need anything right now, and we don't have any fancy Adventurer Guilds out here in this neck of the woods, so those are out of the question. If I were you, I'd try going to the Militia, seeing as you're good at killing monsters. Their training fields are down the street and to the left - big old field with a small house and practice dummies, you can't miss it."

Raphael nodded and thanked the old blacksmith, after which he left the workshop. He had expected as much - most villages did not have a lot of options as far as quests. The chief quest givers would most often be the Mayor, the Head Militiaman and some of the Profession teachers. Most players would not even bother with asking an NPC for clues, but Raphael had read about a lot of Hidden Quests in his years, and most of them had started out from unlikely places, such as low-leveled NPCs.

A short walk later, Raphael was standing in front of the 'Blue River Militia Training Grounds'.

'More like the Blue River Militia Bed and Breakfast.' Raphael scoffed as he surveyed the building.

It was a dilapidated stone house with a thatched roof. There were no windows, the roof looked like it had not been renewed for years and some of the stones were out of position. It was clear that the militia was not putting in the required effort into keeping their property in good shape.

The front door was wide open and Raphael walked in, his eyes taking a few seconds to get used to the badly-lit room that smelled like vinegar and mildew.

"Oh, you must be Lefevre, our first Traveler! Grand old thing you and your kin, that you are. Why, I'd go as far as to say that the whole world's a better place for having you!" a husky voice greeted him. It came from a halfling, no more than a few feet high, dressed in the militia's out-of-date equipment. "Chief Burrows said you'd be comin' along for your identity tag. Let's get to it then!"

"Identity tag?" Raphael asked, one of his eyebrows having shot upwards. He was not sure what was weirder, the fact that a village actually had an identification system in place, or the fact that a halfling was peacefully coexisting with humans.

"Yes, yes, identity tag. Did he forget to tell you?" the halfling asked, slightly chortling. "Shoulda known he'd forget. That's our Chief Burrows, a great fighter, but horrible memory. I've always wondered how he doesn't forget his way around the village while making his rounds. Must have a separate pair of brains in his feet for that, hah! Just don't tell 'em to his face, he gets a bit embarrassed and tends to throw people out through doors, sometimes even windows."

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you, Mr…?"

"Oh, no-no, please, I'm no mister. My name's Bernard, but everybody 'round here calls me Biddy." The halfling said, smiling as if it had no idea what that meant.

Raphael considered telling Biddy what his nickname actually meant, but gave up halfway through. Being the bearer of bad news was never a great idea, especially when halflings were involved. Despite their short stature, they excelled at hand-to-hand, or rather, hand-to-ankle combat. Raphael had once watched a video of a halfling mother savagely beating a player that had brought her news of her son's death. By the end of the short 30 second video, the poor guy had been tossed, bitted, kicked and even had his royal jewels stomped on.

"Well, anyway," Raphael continued, trying to get rid of the nasty memory. "I actually came around to see if the Militia had any paid jobs I could help out with. I'd be more than happy to get the identification tags made too, if that's not too much trouble."

"Of course it ain't, don't you worry Mr. Lefevre." Bernard said, his smile revealing a few missing teeth. Halflings were notorious for having a sweet tooth. He rushed away, going behind the dusty counter in the center of the small room. "Well come on now, we have to get it over with as soon as possible!"

Raphael made his way to the counter just as the small halfling had pulled up a three-step ladder and climbed atop it.

It held out its hand towards Raphael. In its palm, there was an engraved piece of wood, hanging off a piece of leather. It was a close copy of the seal that Mayor Dawn had used.

"Place your hand on the tag and repeat after me. I, Jiver Lefevre, swear fealty to Blue River Village and shall not bring harm unto it."

Raphael slowly repeated the simple sentence, trying hard not to get it wrong.

Suddenly, his hand, that was holding onto the tag, illuminated the whole room, turning it purple!