Arthur no longer bothered with the agitated Hakon and Lucien, or the stiff Brin. He was already annoyed enough; strange visions and bizarre dreams, like a riddle-master's riddles, filled his mind.
He turned to Veil and the other women and said, "Come in, all of you."
Inside the Lord's Hall, which Evelyn had decorated with various ornaments, it felt majestic yet eerie, exuding a strong sense of oppression. The blood-colored black lion flags hanging from the high platforms on either side made people feel uneasy and terrified.
The women stood cautiously in the center of the hall, not daring to look up at anything.
"From today onwards, you are the maids of the Lions Den," Arthur's voice echoed through the hall. "Your job is to serve me personally."
He pointed to the floor, seats, and distant walls of the hall.
"You are responsible for cleaning all the rooms in the inner castle, washing clothes, and managing the kitchen chores."
"Veil."
Veil immediately responded, "Here, Lord Arthur."
Arthur thought for a moment, then looked at them and spoke:
"You will be their steward, responsible for arranging everyone's work. You will report directly to Maid Evelyn."
"You will receive your wages monthly. Good work will be rewarded, and laziness will be punished."
"Do you all understand?"
The women were stunned. They looked at each other, their eyes full of disbelief.
They had originally thought they were coming here to do some heavy labor, as they knew what they looked like.
But they never expected that what awaited them was a job with pay, dignity, and one they could even be immensely proud of: the Lord's maid.
"Un…un…understood!" Veil was the first to react, her voice trembling with excitement.
The others also nodded, their faces showing genuine, heartfelt smiles.
Arthur waved his hand, signaling Veil that she could take them to begin their work.
None of these women could be called beautiful; some even had peculiar faces. But they quickly entered work mode, and their dedication and appreciation for this job made the entire hall seem vibrant.
Brin quietly slipped in through the open door, his footsteps making almost no sound on the polished floor. He had originally come to report important matters, but he was so stunned by the scene he had just witnessed that he forgot who he was and what he was supposed to do.
He looked at those sturdy figures, their foreheads wet with sweat from labor, and their "樸實" (simple/unadorned) faces. He watched them diligently wiping every inch of the floor with coarse cloths, their movements large, the muscles in their arms even tensing with effort….
Brin's Adam's apple bobbed uncontrollably. Lord Arthur was indeed as unfathomable as the deep sea; ordinary people could not possibly fathom him.
Just as he was lost in thought, a maid who was bending over to wipe the base of a pillar straightened up and turned around.
She saw the blacksmith standing at the doorway, majestic and strong, as tall as a bear, covered in muscles, looking "straight" at her.
A faint blush spread across the maid's cheeks. She had clearly misunderstood something and tried her best to squeeze out what she thought was her most demure smile at Brin.
This smile, missing two front teeth, appeared broad and airy.
Brin shivered all over, as if he had jumped into an icy river in winter and been drenched by its cold water.
He abruptly turned his head towards Arthur, who was seated high on the main dais, and almost fled, striding quickly, attempting to mask his discomposure with a booming voice.
"L-L-L-Lord!"
Arthur had been watching Brin sneak in, taking in every one of the dramatic changes on Brin's face.
With a hint of a smile, he prepared to startle the bear-like man, speaking in a leisurely tone:
"Has some beautiful lady in the hall caught your eye, Brin?"
"I can arrange it for you."
"N-N-No! Absolutely not!" Brin saw the maid who had just smiled at him blush in embarrassment. His old face instantly turned the color of a pig's liver, and his hands waved like a windmill in front of his chest.
In his haste, Brin dropped the long, tightly wrapped object behind him, which landed with a heavy thud.
"L-L-Lord! I've finished! Miss Evelyn and you… you arranged it!" he stammered, frantically picking up the object, his voice distorted by nervousness.
Arthur's gaze fell on the oilcloth-wrapped object. The smile on his face receded somewhat, replaced by an excited anticipation.
Brin took a deep breath, as if to display his most outstanding work. He squatted down, untied the ropes, and dramatically pulled back the oilcloth.
A formidable weapon was revealed.
It was made entirely of dark, reinforced hardwood and steel that reflected the firelight, and it was a full size larger than a typical Westeros military crossbow.
The bow limbs were not made of wood or composite materials, but purely of cast steel, heavy and solid, exuding a chilling murderous aura.
Fixed above the wooden stock was an intricately designed metal winch, with gears and a crank handle tightly interlocked, full of a sense of mechanical power.
Arthur's pupils contracted slightly, and he abruptly stood up. He had drawn the blueprints and conceived the idea, but he had never imagined Brin could bring it to such perfect reality.
These medieval blacksmiths, in their specialized fields, were simply supermen. No wonder the protagonists in medieval settings were often blacksmiths.
Brin's hands were rough, covered in calluses and burn scars, yet at this moment, he gently caressed the cold steel on the crossbow's body, his eyes filled with the unique pride and excitement of a creator.
"Lord, this… this is what you wanted," his voice was unable to suppress its excitement. "Miss Evelyn helped me refine the drawings you made. We adjusted the gear meshing angle, and also the length of this crank handle."
Brin pointed to the small winch, his tone becoming incredibly proud,
"Don't even talk about me! Even if my two strongest brothers worked together! They wouldn't be able to draw it back by hand! You must use this winch! Little by little, crank it up!"
"Precisely because of this!" Brin's breathing was somewhat ragged, his eyes flashing with fanaticism. If he had had such a weapon back then, he might have already gotten his revenge. "The specially made heavy crossbow bolt it shoots! The power! The power is terrifying!"
"I tested it with two layers of chainmail stacked together. Within twenty paces, it penetrates as easily as cheese."
"I swear! Within twenty paces! No knight's plate armor in Westeros could stop it!"
"And anyone, even a woman, can use it after just a few tries!"
Brin paused, thought for a moment, and then added, "But, Lord, its drawbacks are as prominent as its advantages."
Brin was very honest, without the slightest concealment.
"Cranking it with the winch, even for the most skilled archer, takes a considerable amount of time."
"Its loading speed is too slow. On the battlefield, after firing one arrow, there might not be another chance to fire a second."
"And it's hard to imagine such a weapon successfully engaging enemies at close range, especially knights. It's more suitable for defending a castle."
"In that regard, it's not as useful as a longbow."
Arthur said nothing. He walked down the steps, approached Brin, extended his hand, and grasped the cold metal crank handle.
He tried to turn it, immediately feeling the immense resistance transmitted between the gears. He could clearly feel a terrifying amount of energy slowly being compressed and stored within the sturdy steel bow limbs.
Arthur didn't need Brin to say too much. The original concept for this thing was his own, based on his memories; he just didn't know how to make and implement it. He naturally knew its pros and cons.
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