New Weapon

New Weapon

The rollout of the public security patrols went even more smoothly than Roderick had expected. The obedience of farmers from this old era far exceeded his estimates. From now on, the Astartes would also need to reassess every class in Southshore.

Roderick headed straight for a building filled with the bustle of daily life, where the clanging of hammer against iron rang without pause. This was the smithy owned by Alwyn's father, Bass Jerman. A massive furnace stood in the center of the room, with several anvils lined up beside it. A number of blacksmith apprentices were struggling to hammer glowing iron blanks, sending golden sparks flying.

Bass was a burly man with a face full of beard, wielding a smithing hammer in one hand without effort. Seeing Roderick enter, Bass set aside his work. "My boy caused trouble again? Roderick, just beat him up hard."

"Uncle Bass, you still love joking around. Alwyn is now captain of the second squad and is also responsible for training the guards. He's already become a truly dependable warrior," Roderick said solemnly.

"Ahem, I know exactly what he's capable of. As long as he doesn't hold up the guard's work, that's enough. So, what is it?" Though he said that, he could not hide the delight in his voice.

Roderick took out a blueprint. "I want to make a new warhammer."

Bass examined the blueprint, then called over Robert Ebis, who was working next door. He was a master armorsmith from Tirisfal who had once served the royal guard of Lordaeron and possessed extraordinary skill. While the two discussed the design, Roderick took out a small bottle of crystalline metal powder and told them to temper the powder evenly into the hammer's striking ends. Bass did not ask further questions. It was probably some rare enchanting powder, the sort of ancestral heirloom that noble families often possessed.

"We'll start gathering materials today. It'll take at least eighteen days. The labor fee will be twenty percent off, but you'll have to cover the material costs in full." Even among friends, business was business.

"No problem. Here is one gold coin as a deposit. I trust the two of you won't disappoint me."

After resolving the matter of his weapon, Roderick went to the eastern side of town. A huge stable stood beside a winding creek. Next to it was a wooden enclosure where dozens of dairy cows wandered leisurely. Melydres was directing a group of stablehands carrying fodder, while others cleaned up trash and manure nearby. The smell was quite overpowering.

"Roderick, what brings you here?" Melydres led him into a wooden hut beside the stable and asked after they had washed up briefly.

"I want to pick out several warhorses. The guard can't go without cavalry."

"Exactly. What kind of knights are you without horses? Mayor Heni already spoke to me. Since it's for the guard, I can give you the best possible deal. As long as the guard buys horses, I'll give you a full set of bridles and stirrups for the cavalry, plus some extra fodder. Future horseshoe replacements and the like will also be free." Seeing a major deal arrive, Melydres launched into a rapid sales pitch. After some bargaining, Roderick purchased five adult warhorses according to the plan they had made that day. They would be kept at the stable for now, and people would later come to collect the horses, supplies, and fodder.

After several busy days, the work of Southshore's new guard had begun to run smoothly, and Roderick no longer needed to oversee every detail personally.

More than a hundred logs had been neatly arranged beside the training ground. Under the direction of construction craftsmen, people were compacting the foundations.

Adrian was also leading the selected archers in shooting practice in the distance, though their accuracy was truly worrying. The cavalry circling the field at a gallop looked rather impressive instead. Nearly all of those knights had received riding training, and some soldiers could ride as well. With too many people and too few horses, they could only conduct this simple training for now.

Lastly, the guard's infantry training was progressing quickly.

These soldiers were in excellent physical condition, and many had some military foundation beforehand. Naturally, the basic infantry drills posed no difficulty for them. At Roderick's insistence, a small building beside the training ground had been converted into a guard mess hall with dedicated cooks. With sufficient protein intake, many bodies that had once been thin and weak gradually began to recover. Daily training was exhausting, but the morale of the entire guard remained high. The only concern now was the enormous expense of maintaining the guard. Without any income, he feared he would not last even three months. Roderick could not help recalling his conversation with Albert and Arnold.

Gold Pearls were round pearls that emitted a golden radiance. Arnold had nearly died in a Murloc tribe because of them last time. They were essential materials for mages researching high-level enchanting techniques. They could also be used in clothing production and were extremely valuable.

According to Arnold, he had seen at least five Gold Pearls placed on the altar of the Murloc tribe. Clearing out the Murloc tribe threatening Southshore's docks was important not only for earning the Town Council's trust, but also for resolving the guard's funding problem. While Roderick was considering the matter, he heard a knock on the door. When he opened it, he found none other than Antoine, who had been absent for a long time.

"You've worked hard. Come in," Roderick said.

After entering, Antoine lowered the hood covering his head. Already thin to begin with, his cheeks had grown even more sunken, but his eyes remained as sharp as ever.

"I brought ten people this time. They're all well-trained hands," Antoine said in a low voice.

"I trust your judgment. Does the count have any demands?" Roderick asked calmly.

Antoine shook his head and handed him a secret letter. Roderick broke the wax seal and applied Antoine's special solution. A line of small words appeared on the white envelope: This is friendship from Ravenholdt Manor. We hope that one day we may invite you to admire Alterac's sunrise together. There was no signature on the note. Below it was the image of a pale hand gripping a blood-dripping dagger.

Ravenholdt Manor was the most mysterious organization in the Hillsbrad region. Its members were among the finest rogues and assassins on the continent. Other than gold, no one could command them.

When Roderick took over the Southshore Guard, Mayor Heni had specifically mentioned this assassin organization. Antoine was the organization's representative in Southshore, mainly responsible for passing along intelligence. The leader of Ravenholdt Manor was known as Duke Jorach Ravenholdt. Apart from the name, nothing else was known. Whether the leader was male or female, tall or short, everything was concealed in mist. Their leader might not even be human, and perhaps even the name was false.

The letter mentioned no payment. It seemed the other side wanted something substantial. Still, since Mayor Heni had specifically recommended them and he had known Antoine for many years, the organization possessed a certain degree of credibility.

Roderick then laid out his demands: Southshore, Hillsbrad, and Tarren Mill were to receive focused surveillance, especially Undead strongholds. He wanted regular reports on the movements of major nearby forces, primarily the Undead. If they could help train some intelligence personnel, that would be even better.

Antoine had not expected Roderick to be so blunt, showing no concern for the Assassin's League's dark reputation. It was as though he were giving orders to those simple Southshore farmers. Years in intelligence work kept his expression utterly unchanged, and he merely replied, "I'll arrange it."

"Good. In a few days, we'll make a trip to Dun Garok. I'll leave everything else to you. Go back and rest early."

As Antoine closed the door and left, he heard Roderick's voice behind him again. "Antoine, I trust you. Don't disappoint everyone."

The man outside silently nodded and disappeared into the shadows around the corner.

After dozens of days of training, most soldiers could already proficiently perform basic tactical maneuvers. According to some councilors in town, they were nearly comparable to the kingdom's old infantry. Roderick only smiled at that. These were the finest young adults selected from all of Southshore. Though they had not trained for long, they already far exceeded the training standards of this era's traditional armies.

But they had never been to war and had never personally faced the test of life and death, so this force could not yet be called elite. What pleased Roderick most was that the companions he had grown up with were gradually maturing. Whether it was the younger, still-boyish Darezzo; the impulsive and reckless Arnold; or the arrogant Red, accustomed to noble habits, every one of them was growing rapidly and becoming capable of offering Roderick greater help.

What truly earned the residents of Southshore endless praise for the new guard led by Roderick was the inconspicuous public security patrol plan. Since these second-line security units had begun patrolling the town, the sailors' brawls that had once been common in the dock district had nearly vanished.

This was especially true after the mass armed brawl involving sailors from the Redbeard transport ship from Stormwind City. The guard that rushed to the scene beat every sailor involved until they were black and blue, then arrested them all and sent them into the woods to chop logs as punishment. In the end, the frantic captain of the Bigbeard had to go before the council to secure their release, at the cost of paying a hefty fine. Roderick, whose reputation had already been soaring, publicly distributed the fine among the security patrol members on duty that day and the other guard soldiers. He also compensated the shops and taverns that had suffered heavy losses in the fight.

Roderick's prestige in Southshore instantly rose to a new height. At the very least, he was revered in Southshore now. If he could truly eliminate the Shatterfin Murloc Tribe threatening Southshore's docks, he would probably be exalted immediately.

"Captain, this is the warhammer you ordered. It's really heavy." Alwyn's shout interrupted Roderick's thoughts. He laboriously set a wooden crate on the ground. When Roderick opened it, a finely crafted two-handed warhammer appeared before him.

According to Alwyn, the handle had been made by his father from giant fir wood felled in the Alterac Mountains. It was the finest timber Hillsbrad could find. Its grain was dense, it was extremely hard, resistant to rot and insects, and possessed some degree of fire resistance. The grip had been carefully carved with non-slip patterns, while the bottom bore letters shaped like L.N., the initials of Roderick Northumberland.

The hammerhead looked somewhat savage. Entirely black, it had been forged from refined steel smelted from dozens of steel ingots in a high-temperature furnace. Both ends had been cast into gently rounded corners, with fine golden specks fused into the metal. Alwyn's father had also included several whetstones and a piece of velvet cloth for future weapon maintenance.

Roderick lifted the warhammer with both hands. For him, whose muscle enhancement was nearing completion, the weight was just right. To anyone else, however, it was already an unimaginably deadly weapon. Signaling everyone else to stand back, Roderick poured the power of the Holy Light into it and smashed it down viciously onto a remaining tree root.

Contrary to what everyone expected, the warhammer's striking end cut into the root like a blade through butter, easily smashing a huge hole into it. Enormous kinetic force rampaged through the stump's interior, completely destroying the tree's root system. Fragments scattered across the ground, and the stump could not withstand such an impact, flipping over completely.

By now, everyone had grown accustomed to Roderick's godlike combat strength. Instead, someone teased Alwyn, "Uncle Bass's craftsmanship has gotten even better. I'm going to order a custom longsword from him too."

Roderick knew that the warhammer, mixed with that black-tech powder, had gained greatly enhanced hardness and durability. Its overwhelming armor-piercing properties were the weapon's true strength. A weapon that had originally been of fine quality had instantly risen to epic grade. Unfortunately, limited by the quality of its raw materials, that was the limit of its improvement. But for the current Roderick, this weapon possessed enough killing power to deal with the enemies he was about to face.