A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"Oh, there'll be no issues there, there's all sorts of people passing through Solgrim all the time. If they know that Daniel Harmon is here, they're sure to pay your shop a visit. You'll have your choice picks of all you want to work on, and you can reject the rest. It'll be good coin, better than Ernest, I'd say, with no Guild contract to take your fees away.

They were taking a quarter of all your sales, weren't they, on top of tax? Solgrim's taxes will be nothing in comparison. Just a nice flat ten percent. You'll be a rich man, Big Dan, and you'll be doing the work you wish for," Greeves said.

"Now you hang on a minute," the smith said. "Don't you ever call me 'Big Dan'. And what's this business about working in Solgrim? I never agreed to all that. I only agreed to make armour for Ser Patrick, and some of his Commanders."

"Oh, and that's exactly what you'll be doing, somewhere that it matters. This is the final resting place of Dominus Patrick. I'm sure you know what that means? This is the centre of the martial world, with both the father, who achieved the highest level of swordsmanship in Stormfront history, and the son, who slew a General before he had even had his nineteenth birthday.

Ain't that where a smith of your calibre is meant to be? It's where all the warriors of note will be gathering when they learn what they ought to have known already," Greeves said.

"He's buried here?" The smith said. "…I heard he died defending Solgrim. I didn't think they'd buried him here too."

"His ashes are in Solgrim soil," Oliver said. "If his is a name that you respect, then pay a visit to his statue, if you would. I am sure he would appreciate that. Too few knew of his deeds in life."

"…Aye, I'll visit," the smith agreed. "There's a man that would have been worth making armour for…"

"What's your answer then, Daniel?" Greeves pressed. "You can slave away in Ernest if you want, but even a child could tell that you're wasted there. You're doing the work that should be sent to apprentice smiths. And you're not getting younger. Don't you want to leave your mark? What's the point of wasting your time on orders anyone can fill?"

"Damn you, Greeves. You know how to hit a man where it hurts," the smith grumbled.

"You'll have more coin here, you'll have your choice of clients, you'll be the armoursmith of choice for all of Stormfront's up-and-comers. Your armour will be what they wear when cutting down Verna Colonels and Generals. You'll go down in legend," Greeves said.

"Will I really get any of that, I wonder?" The smith grumbled. "More coin? Do you suppose so? The work won't be nearly as frequent as in Ernest. You don't get enough foot traffic."

"For now," Greeves said. "But already, a single job with us would be netting you as much as two completed in Ernest, when you're free of the Guild's cuts. And you can set your own prices. You don't have to have them regulated and approved by the Guild. You'll be where you want to be."

"It's tempting…" Daniel admitted. "But I've got a family, merchant. I can't afford to take risks."

"We can guarantee you enough work here for your first year that it will exceed what you otherwise would have taken in Ernest," Oliver said. "Does that change matters? It'll be more work, and for higher-quality clients. You should most definitely find your first year here, at the very least, to be more profitable than in Ernest."

"Just try a year," Greeves said. "If it doesn't work, you can go crawling back, and you'll have made a bucketful of coin in the meantime."

"Just a year eh…"

"There's nothing to lose, is there? Ain't you sick of making the same pair of gauntlets over and over? Or are you in a hurry to get back, and complete that same order that the Guild's had over your head for a while? Would you not rather get started on something proper?" Greeves said. "Ser Patrick's armour is waiting to be done. Then Lord Idris' after him.

And Lady Blackthorn's. You'll have much to test your skill on."

"And what of my house?" The smith asked. "Where are my family to live, whilst I'm being selfish, and bringing them out here, to chase my own goals?"

"You'll have one of our newly built houses," Greeves said. "You can move into it whenever you're ready."

"Do you even have a shop for me to set up in, with the tools I need at the ready?" The smith said suspiciously.

"We've another smith with us, and we've had him help us set up a few other shops with what they need in. A forge, an anvil, some of the basic tools to keep you going whilst you get your own shipped in," Greeves said.

"Shops? Not shop?" The smith said.

"Aye, that's what I said," Greeves said. "You're not the only one getting brought in, Daniel. Didn't I tell you? This little village here, soon enough, it's going to be the centre of the martial world. Maybe we can't grow it into a giant town in short order – but we can bring in quality of the likes the world has never seen. We already have a Patrick here.

As his achievements grow, so will the town. When the news starts to spread further, that he's slain a General, and the awards are handed out by the High King, and it is done for a certainty, you best believe there'll be students of the blade looking to come and visit, wondering what is so special about this village we've been spreading the word of."

The smith shuddered. "You've a grand vision," he murmured. "It's a sight I would pay to see… But whether or not it'll happen… I'm too old to have that sort of optimism."

"Are you too old to take a risk as well?" Greeves said.