Rafael went to sleep with a smile on his face, clutching the book tightly despite the bed being just a hay-stuffed bag placed on the floor. The fire was dying out, and the room was getting colder, but he paid it no mind, protected by his clothes.
The night passed, and the sun was about half an hour from rising over the horizon when Rafael was woken by the crowing of a rooster. He felt stiff and still sleepy.
Definitely one of the worst nights I've had, he thought as he heard the sounds of people walking and talking outside his house. Standing up, he realized he had forgotten to close the window the night before.
Nothing is automated here; I need to remember that, he reminded himself. After eating the last orange for breakfast, he stepped out of his house, of course, still holding the book.
I have a looong day ahead. To create paper, I'll need a square wooden frame with a cloth attached to it. Oh right, the cloth! He went back inside and grabbed the largest rag from the wardrobe. Stepping outside again, he began looking for a guard or Cenric to ask for directions.
He noticed people leaving their homes with farming tools, baskets, some with axes, perhaps to chop wood, and children carrying pots, plates, and other items somewhere outside the village.
Whenever people saw him approaching, they would stop talking and only resume once he was a few meters away. I guess I'm not welcome here, he thought.
After walking for a minute, he spotted a spearman standing beside a random house.
"Good morning. I need help with a few things," Rafael said.
"Good morning, sir. What do you need?" the guard replied.
"Who here in this village has skills in woodcutting or can create something using wood for me?"
"That would be Richar. He's the most skilled with wood here. No wonder he alone built half of this village. His house is on the outskirts, just a minute's walk from here," the guard said, pointing to his right.
"Hm, thank you. And who works with stones and metal around here?"
"No one is skilled in stonework, but we have a blacksmith. He lives in that house over there," the guard replied, pointing to a house that looked like any other at the front but had an additional section at the back. "Anything else, sir?"
"No, that's all. Thank you," Rafael said, noticing smoke already rising from the blacksmith's house. As he approached, he saw that the back section was an open area covered by a roof, filled with metal, hammers, knives, axes, and an anvil.
A small brick furnace was already working at full capacity. One muscular man with a big gray beard, wearing a leather apron and a single leather glove, emerged from a wooden door in the back wall of the house.
"Oi, so you're the merchant people are talking about? My name is Sigeric. Do you want *cough* to buy or maybe repair something?" *cough*. He held a small casket filled with charcoal, which he then poured into the furnace before placing the casket near the wall of his house.
"I'm looking for something. Do you happen to have or know about a metal that pulls other metals to it?" Rafael asked, mimicking the action with his hands, as if one was being pulled toward the other.
"Hhmm, I don't know any metal that pulls others to it. Are you sure that's what you're looking for? Does it even exist?" Sigeric asked, his face skeptical.
Right, is this Murphy's law doing its work?
"Ahh, forget it. It was nice to meet you, sir. Maybe I'll come back to buy something in the future," Rafael said. After saying goodbye, he headed in the direction of the woodworker the guard had mentioned.
He quickly found the house, which stood out from the others. Its walls were entirely made of wood, with two windows on each side and an extended roof behind the house, similar to the blacksmith's, but enclosed with walls to protect the wood inside from humidity and rain.
"Good morning. Need something?" a man asked as he arrived back at his house with a bowl of water. He looked old, with a white beard and hair, and his face was deeply wrinkled.
"Hello. I was told you're the best at woodwork, right?"
"Of course, I am. Just look at my house. You won't find similar precision even in Baron Floutt's city," the man replied, pride evident in his voice. Everyone in the village knew him for his pride in his skills, though only Cenric knew it was only partially true—he would rank third among all the villages and cities under Floutt's management.
"That's good. I need a square frame so I can attach this rag to it," Rafael said.
"Oh, are you a painter? If you paint a picture of me, I'll do the work free of charge. What do you think?" The man smiled at the idea of having a painting of himself, something even the village chief didn't have.
"I'm not a painter, sorry. I'll pay for your work, so how much will it be?"
"Grrhm... Fine, just a square frame to attach the rag? 50 coppers," he grumbled, his smile turning into a scowl when he realized he wouldn't get his painting. Rafael didn't know if that was a fair price, so he paid it without hesitation, handing over a single silver coin since he had already spent all his coppers.
"You can come back at midday," the man said, quickly entering his house with the money and the rag.
Rafael knocked on the door. "What?!" the old man asked as he opened it.
"There's one more thing I need. I need you to pick some wood and grind it with water. It has to be like a pulp. Can you do it?"
"Yes, okay, I'll do it for 10 coppers," the man replied before shutting the door again.
I think I just got robbed, Rafael thought, his expression troubled as he walked through the village, observing the simple and harsh lives of the people. The stench in the streets was overwhelming, and he could occasionally see puddles of 'water' and waste between the houses.
The sun had risen above the treetops in the distance when he heard a voice.
"Mr. Rafael, good morning."