Back At The Village

After what felt like hours of walking, the trees finally began to thin, revealing the outskirts of the village ahead. Ethan paused for a moment, taking in the sight before him. Small wooden houses dotted the landscape, their thatched roofs rising and falling gently like waves in the distance. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, filling the air with the scent of burning wood and cooking food. The sound of voices drifted faintly through the air—children laughing, the occasional bark of a dog, the murmur of quiet conversation.

He adjusted the bundle of tools slung over his shoulder and stepped forward, entering the village proper. His footsteps shifted from the dirt path to the cobblestone streets that made up the center of the village. He could feel the energy of life here—people going about their daily routines, the rhythm of their existence pulsing in a way that felt so different from the isolated quiet of the forest.

Ethan's senses were heightened, especially his sight. The blue orbs of mana were still faintly visible in the air, drifting lazily around the village. They felt stronger here, almost as if they were drawn to the people who lived in this place. He wondered if the villagers had any connection to them, or if they were oblivious to the floating specks of energy that surrounded them.

As he continued to walk, a few villagers glanced his way—nothing more than brief, curious looks, sizing up a stranger. Ethan kept his head down, trying to appear unremarkable. He wasn't sure how outsiders were treated here, but he had no desire to draw attention to himself just yet.

His stomach growled again, a reminder of why he was here. Food was the immediate priority. Then, he'd need to find a place to sell his tools, and if he was lucky, get some information about magic. His mind replayed the conversation of those adventurers he'd overheard weeks ago. They had talked about magic—spells and mana—and this village might hold the key to understanding how humans here wielded their power.

As he walked deeper into the village, Ethan kept his senses sharp, taking in everything. The sights, the sounds, and the people. It was his first real step into this new world as a human, and though he felt out of place, he also felt an odd spark of anticipation.

---

Ethan scanned the village, looking for a good place to sell the tools he had brought. The market area had a variety of small stands and shops, but he wasn't sure where his particular items would be best suited. Deciding to ask for help, he approached a nearby villager, a woman carrying a basket of herbs.

"Excuse me," he said, catching her attention. "I've got some tools I'd like to sell. Do you know where I might do that?"

The woman looked at him curiously for a moment before offering a kind smile. "For tools? You'll want the blacksmith. His shop's just down that way." She pointed further into the village, down a side road where a few larger, sturdier buildings stood.

"Thank you," Ethan nodded, following her direction.

As he made his way toward the blacksmith, the rhythmic sound of hammering on metal became louder. The shop itself was hard to miss—the clang of iron against anvil echoed in the air, and a steady plume of smoke rose from a large chimney. The blacksmith's forge sat just off the main street, its doors wide open to allow the heat to escape. Tools, weapons, and metalworks hung on the walls and tables, a testament to the skilled hand at work inside.

Ethan stood at the entrance for a moment, watching the blacksmith—a broad, muscular man—working a piece of metal. Sparks flew as the blacksmith struck the glowing iron with heavy, practiced blows, shaping it into a sharp edge. The heat from the forge radiated out, and Ethan could feel the warmth on his skin even from where he stood.

After a few more strikes, the blacksmith plunged the heated metal into a barrel of water, steam hissing as the blade cooled. He turned, wiping sweat from his brow, and noticed Ethan standing there.

"Looking to buy or sell?" the blacksmith asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

"Selling," Ethan replied, stepping forward and untangling the rough cloth bundle from his shoulder. "I've got some tools I made myself. Thought you might be interested."

The blacksmith raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Let's see 'em."

Ethan laid the bundle on a nearby table, carefully unwrapping the cloth to reveal a small collection of handmade tools—hammers, chisels, and a few other useful metal items. Though they were simple in design, each piece was meticulously crafted during his experiments with the Earth and Metal Elements back in his workshop.

The blacksmith picked up one of the hammers, examining it closely. He tested the weight, ran his thumb along the handle, and gave a nod of approval. "Good balance," he muttered. "Solid work, this. Not bad at all. You make these yourself?"

"Yeah," Ethan said simply, keeping his explanation vague.

The blacksmith set the hammer down and looked at the rest of the tools, clearly impressed by the craftsmanship. "These'll fetch a good price. I could always use more tools like this around here. What're you asking for 'em?"

Ethan hesitated for a moment, realizing he had no idea what the currency was in this world. His mind raced. Was it gold coins? Did they trade goods instead of using money? He cursed himself for not learning more about the village and its economy before heading in.

Not wanting to show his ignorance, he quickly decided to let the blacksmith set the starting price. "What do you think these would go for?" Ethan asked, trying to sound casual, though his mind was racing with plans to counter whatever the blacksmith said.

The blacksmith eyed him, then glanced back at the tools. "Hmm," he grunted, clearly thinking it over. "Well, tools like these... for the quality, I'd say... fifteen silver coins."

Ethan inwardly cringed. Fifteen silver? That didn't sound like much at all for the effort he put into these. But, knowing the blacksmith was likely trying to swindle him with a lowball offer, he decided to push back. "Make it twenty silver, and they're yours," he said, raising the price.

The blacksmith's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't seem too put off by the counteroffer. "Twenty silver's a fair price for tools this fine," he admitted with a shrug. "Alright, deal."

As he agreed, the blacksmith picked up another tool—a steel hammer this time, though he didn't know it yet. He turned it over in his hands, clearly admiring the weight and design. "What metal's this?" he asked, curiosity in his voice. "Feels strong, but I ain't seen anything quite like it around here."

Ethan kept his response simple, not wanting to reveal too much about the exact materials. "It's just a strong metal," he replied nonchalantly. "Made to last."

The blacksmith seemed to accept that explanation, nodding as he laid the tools back down. "Strong metal, eh? Well, I'll give you twenty silver for the lot. Fair price for fine work."

With that, the blacksmith reached into a small pouch on his belt and produced a handful of silver coins, placing them on the table. Ethan glanced at the coins—small, round, and stamped with symbols he didn't recognize—but they seemed to be standard currency in this village.

As he gathered the coins and pocketed them, Ethan felt a small surge of satisfaction. The trade had gone well, and now he had both money and a better understanding of the value of his craftsmanship in this world.

"Pleasure doing business with you," the blacksmith said, lifting the bundle of tools. "If you make more, I'll be here. Always in need of good tools."

Ethan nodded, feeling a bit more confident. With the silver coins jingling softly in his pocket, Ethan decided to take a moment to look around the village before finding something to eat. The blacksmith had been helpful, but now his mind was turning toward learning more about the place—and most importantly, how magic worked here. The village was small but lively, with people moving about, tending to their everyday tasks.

He wandered through the main square, passing by a few market stalls selling fresh produce, cloth, and small trinkets. Some villagers eyed him curiously but gave no more than a passing glance before returning to their business. He saw children running and laughing, a couple of farmers unloading sacks from a cart, and even a few adventurers gathered near what looked like a town board, probably discussing quests or jobs.

As he walked, his stomach grumbled loudly again, reminding him that food was becoming a top priority. Ethan scanned the streets, looking for a place that might serve meals. His eyes fell on a building at the far side of the village square, where a wooden sign hung above the door. It had the faded image of a mug carved into it, and the warm, inviting glow of light spilled out through the windows.

"A tavern," he muttered to himself, relieved. It looked like the perfect place to get a meal and maybe overhear some conversation—perhaps about magic or any local rumors.

Ethan made his way toward the tavern, his pace quickening as the promise of food drew closer. As he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath before stepping inside, the warmth of the hearth immediately washing over him.

The tavern was cozy and bustling, filled with the sound of quiet chatter and clinking mugs. A few tables were occupied by locals, some eating meals while others enjoyed drinks. At the far end of the room, a barmaid was serving up plates of food to a group of travelers, and Ethan's stomach growled even louder at the sight of the steaming dishes.

He spotted a small empty table near the corner and quickly made his way over, sitting down and glancing around to take in the atmosphere. It was exactly what he needed after a long day of walking and thinking. Now, it was time to eat—and maybe learn a bit more about the world he was in.

Ethan raised his hand, giving the barmaid a small wave to catch her attention. She glanced over, noticed him sitting at the table, and offered a nod before finishing up with the travelers she was serving. In just a moment, she made her way over to his corner, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached.

"Evening," she greeted with a warm smile, her tone friendly but businesslike. "What can I get for you?"

Ethan hesitated for only a second. He had always wanted to try alcohol, and now that he was in a body that looked a bit older—though still youthful—this felt like the perfect chance. "I'll take a drink," he said casually, then quickly added, "something strong."

The barmaid raised an eyebrow, the faintest glimmer of amusement crossing her face, but she didn't question him. "Aye, strong it is. And for food? We've got stew on the fire tonight. Fresh bread to go with it."

Ethan nodded. "Sounds perfect."

As the barmaid turned to leave, Ethan cleared his throat, deciding this was the moment to start gathering some information. "Uh, I've got a few questions, if you don't mind," he said, trying to sound casual but knowing his inquiries might sound strange. "I'm new around here… not too familiar with this town or where exactly we are. Can you tell me a little about it?"

The barmaid paused, turning back to face him, a curious look in her eye. "New to town, eh?" She studied him for a second before shrugging. "Well, you're in Woodhollow—a small village on the outskirts of Aldryn forest. Ain't much, but we get a fair share of travelers and adventurers passing through. We're a couple days' ride from Greystone, the nearest big city."

Woodhollow. Aldryn forest. Greystone. Ethan made a mental note of the names. He nodded as she continued.

"If it's information you're after, you'll find folk here know plenty about the area. Travelers tend to swap stories over drinks, and if you're looking for work, you might find a few opportunities on the quest board outside."

Ethan leaned forward slightly, deciding to test the waters. "What about… magic?" he asked, keeping his tone curious but trying not to sound too eager. "I've heard talk of it. Do people around here use it much?"

The barmaid's brow furrowed slightly. "Magic? Well, not many around here have much to do with that. Most magic folk stay up near the cities—mages and the like. You'll see the occasional adventurer with a trick or two, though." She looked at him more closely, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You don't look like one of them mage types, but you're asking about magic?"

Ethan quickly shrugged, trying to keep things light. "Just curious. Figured it was something worth learning about, being new around here and all."

She seemed satisfied with that, giving him another nod. "Well, you won't find much of it here. But if you head toward Greystone, they've got a mage's guild there. Might be worth a visit if you're looking to learn something."

Ethan's pulse quickened slightly at the mention of a mage's guild. That might be exactly what he needed to find. If humans in this world used magic through spells or guilds, the answers to getting his powers back could be waiting there.

"Thanks," he said, keeping his tone casual. The barmaid gave him one last look before heading back to the bar, returning moments later with a mug of dark ale and a steaming bowl of stew.

Ethan eyed the drink in front of him. He'd never had alcohol before, but curiosity got the better of him. He took a cautious sip, feeling the warmth of the drink spread through him. It was stronger than he expected, a little bitter, but not bad. Satisfied, he dug into the stew, the rich flavors hitting his senses and soothing his hunger.

As he ate, he kept one ear on the conversations around him, listening for any mention of magic or Greystone. The idea of heading to the mage's guild was now firmly planted in his mind.