Lord of the Rings: Warriors

"This system really has some tricks up its sleeve! Who knew it was hiding such a treasure?" Rynar clicked his tongue in delight. 

Compared to the impoverished refugees, the citizens with assets and diverse skills would undoubtedly be more beneficial to the development of Riverguard!

"Phew! Time to head back for some sleep." Blowing out a frosty breath, Rynar rubbed his stiff hands and tightened his fur coat before making his way toward the castle.

"My lord!" A voice suddenly called from behind him.

"What's the matter?" Rynar recognized the caller immediately from the way he was addressed—it was Caslow.

"My lord! You've truly set me up this time!" Caslow wore a helpless, bitter expression as he approached.

"Set you up? What are you talking about?" Rynar's eyes widened in confusion.

"Dylan…" Caslow stared at Rynar with such grievance that it made Rynar's hair stand on end.

"Uh… Didn't he just need some pure dragon blood to refine the Dragon Blood Elixir? I told him to ask you for some. 

There's so much blood in Kaldor; sparing a bit shouldn't be a problem, right?" Rynar explained sheepishly, realizing he had been caught red-handed.

"My lord! Dylan didn't just need dragon blood—he needed essence blood! 

My dragon has been bled dry and is now practically a lifeless husk!" 

Caslow lamented, detailing how Kaldor, after losing a significant amount of essence blood, had fallen into a prolonged state of weakness.

"What? Essence blood?" Rynar's face froze in shock. He had thought any dragon blood would do and hadn't realized the distinction.

"My lord, do you think such a precious elixir as Dragon Blood Elixir could be brewed with ordinary dragon blood? 

If it were that simple, one dead dragon could churn out countless experts!" Caslow rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"This time, Dylan's persistence managed to extract just ten drops of essence blood from Kaldor. 

With this, he might be able to make three bottles of the elixir if we're lucky." Caslow pouted. 

It was worth noting that even with the best preparations, crafting the elixir had a high failure rate—30% success was considered fortunate.

Rynar's face turned blank. After all this, the fool was none other than himself.

"Sigh… Luckily, it wasn't too much; Kaldor's just in a weakened state. If he'd taken more, my dragon would've been completely ruined!" 

Caslow sighed deeply, calculating the loss. What was once a majestic Sky Dragon Knight now seemed more like a grounded chicken—tragic didn't even begin to describe it.

"Uh… Well, nothing more to discuss, I'm off to rest!" 

Rynar could feel the frustration radiating off Caslow. 

He decided it was best to make a hasty retreat before being subjected to another round of complaints from the soon-to-be dragon-less knight.

"Your Majesty!" A heavy voice echoed from outside the tent, signaling the return of a knight Rynar had sent out.

"Enter," Rynar said, straightening his posture to maintain some semblance of decorum in front of his subordinates. 

After all, slouching in his chair only to be seen by his men would be the ultimate social death.

"Your Majesty, the investigation is complete!" A knight from the Knight Order stepped into the tent and spoke in a low voice.

"Oh?" Rynar leaned forward, curiosity piqued. He was eager to learn about the talents within his territory.

"Your Majesty, among the citizens we've investigated so far, there's Lorece, who runs a tavern; a baker named Freya; a blacksmith named Edmund; and a leatherworker named Carter. 

In addition to these, there are a few ordinary citizens with no standout skills," the knight reported.

"Only four citizens with special skills? What about the others?" Rynar asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"The rest are just regular folk with some assets, but nothing extraordinary about them. These four are the only ones who stood out," the knight explained respectfully.

"Forget Lorece for now. What about the other three?" Rynar pressed.

"That baker, Freya, is quite remarkable. The bread she bakes is delicious! Your Majesty, the black bread you've been eating comes from her. 

She's the first person I've seen turn such a coarse ingredient into something that can actually make your mouth water!" The knight's tone was filled with admiration, clearly impressed by Freya's craft.

"Hmm, not bad! She's talented. Do what you can to help her within legal bounds," Rynar decided after a moment of thought. 

He figured opening a proper bakery for her would allow more people to enjoy good food. After all, the meals cooked by refugee women could barely be called edible.

"And the blacksmith?" Rynar asked, his primary concern evident. 

Currently, the blacksmith shop was run by amateurs barely qualified to handle the job. 

While Dylan was undoubtedly a master craftsman, having him work on ordinary tools was a blatant waste of his skills.

"He's a competent blacksmith! He's already set up a small forge in the city, hired a dozen apprentices, and repairs broken weapons and armor. Business is going quite well," the knight said with a chuckle.

"That's good. Let him continue. For now, his output should suffice for the citizens of Riverguard," Rynar mused. Having him use the magma forge for mundane tools seemed like overkill.

"What about the leatherworker? Our leather armor consumption is massive, and many knights' armor is in tatters," Rynar asked somberly. 

It was almost laughable that the once-prosperous Zaltarion Empire could no longer even outfit its knights adequately.

"He's quite skilled! He's already begun tanning hides and producing leather armor," the knight replied cheerfully. 

His own leather under-armor was in dire need of replacement, but the state of his patched and worn gear reflected the empire's decline.

"That's excellent! Send all the piled-up hides to him and have him take on some apprentices. Let him know that leather armor is urgently needed. 

Although we're not at war now, conflict is never far away! 

Tell this Carter that as the King of Zaltarion and the Lord of Riverguard, I order him to ensure that all armor is replaced before the spring planting is over. 

If he succeeds, he'll be generously rewarded. But if he delays…" Rynar's tone turned cold.

"Yes, Your Majesty!" The knight saluted and left the tent after thumping his chest in a show of loyalty.

"Sigh… The shortage of skilled individuals is truly severe. The refugees barely have any special talents, and even those who do are mostly amateurs," Rynar muttered to himself. 

It was becoming increasingly clear that citizens with a solid foundation were the most valuable resources. 

Riverguard, still in its infancy, lacked everything, but at least they had gained a proper blacksmith. For now, that would suffice to meet basic needs.

"Heh," Rynar chuckled bitterly, stepping outside and lifting the tent flap. He stretched his hand into the icy wind, feeling the cold currents bite into his skin like blades.

Rynar pursed his lips, watching snowflakes dance in the wind. With a heavy sigh, he reflected on the burdens of leadership. 

The grand conquests and unstoppable victories of novels were pure fiction. 

Life on Middle-earth meant constant struggles—against nature, against the land, and most of all, against the various races. Truly, it was no easy task.

"Hmm?" Rynar's peripheral vision caught sight of a mound of dirt not far away.

"Wait… Is that grass sprouting?" Rynar's eyes lit up with delight as he noticed tender green shoots emerging from the soil.

"Spring is here? Looks like it's time to prepare for planting! This year, we need to sow more crops. I'm done begging for grain during winter!" Rynar swore resolutely.

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