The tavern was dimly lit, the scent of ale and roasted meat thick in the air. Xander stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the warm glow of lanterns powered by crystals hanging from wooden beams. He scanned the room until he spotted Corvin at a corner table, seated with two strangers.
Taking a deep breath, Xander made his way over.
"Xander," Corvin greeted, standing as he approached. "I'm glad you came."
The two men at the table turned to look at him. One was tall and broad-shouldered, his sharp jawline shadowed by faint stubble. His presence was commanding, but his piercing blue eyes carried a warmth that tempered the intensity. The other man, shorter and rounder, had a boyish face that seemed out of place in such a serious setting. His hands fiddled nervously with the edge of his tunic, and his eyes darted around the room before finally settling on Xander.
Corvin gestured for Xander to sit. "These are Eamon and Jarek. Eamon passed the Rite of Awakening two years ago and serves in the kingdom's military. Jarek, well… he has a unique perspective."
Xander's gaze lingered on Eamon first. He could see the man's confidence in the way he sat, back straight and shoulders squared. There was something undeniably intimidating about him, but Xander couldn't ignore the flicker of curiosity in the soldier's eyes.
"Xander," Eamon said, his voice deep but calm. "Corvin has said a lot about you. He says you're planning on stirring things up, aren't you?"
Xander tilted his head. "I wouldn't call it stirring things up. Just… questioning them."
Eamon's lips twitched into a small smile. "Good. We need more of that."
Jarek cleared his throat, drawing Xander's attention. The man's face flushed under the sudden scrutiny, and he offered a sheepish smile. "I don't have Eamon's strength, but I know how to listen. And lately, a lot of people don't say it but they want things to change, They're too stuck in the old ways to admit it."
Xander studied Jarek carefully. He seemed earnest, if a little jittery, but there was a sincerity in his words that resonated.
"What kind of change?" Xander asked, leaning back in his chair.
"The kind that starts small but grows into something unstoppable," Corvin interjected. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "We've all seen it, Xander. The cracks in the kingdom's foundation. The way the Rite divides people. The lack of innovation amongst us. Change has to start somewhere. And we think it can start here."
Eamon nodded, his expression serious. "The Rite of Awakening gave me an ability, Strength, but it didn't give me purpose. That, I had to find on my own. Most people aren't that lucky. They fail the Rite and think their lives are over. I've seen it destroy too many good people."
Jarek shifted uncomfortably, his hands tightening around his tankard. "My family's one of those people. We're farmers, barely getting by. I thought passing the ritual would change our lives if I got a unique ability but I failed the Rite, it was like… like I lost everything. My parents didn't say it, but I could see it in their eyes. Disappointment. Hopelessness." His voice cracked slightly, and he quickly looked away.
Xander felt a pang of sympathy as he listened. These were the very struggles he had been grappling with himself—the unfairness of a system that determined a person's worth with a single ritual.
"What are you proposing?" Xander asked after a moment.
Corvin smiled, clearly anticipating the question. "We start with what we can control. The farmers, the blacksmiths, the traders—they're the backbone of this village. If we can show them better ways to work, ways that don't rely on magic or abilities, we can prove that there's more to life than the Rite."
Jarek chimed in, his earlier nerves giving way to excitement. "The farmers need irrigation systems, better farming tools. The traders need new routes. The blacksmiths could be crafting stronger weapons and tools if they had the right techniques."
Eamon leaned forward, his voice steady. "We need to start small. Build trust. Once people see the results, they'll spread the word themselves. And when the kingdom notices… well, that's when real change begins."
Xander considered their words, the weight of their plan settling heavily on his shoulders. It wasn't just about introducing new ideas—it was about challenging a system that had existed for generations.
"And you think the villagers will listen?" he asked.
"They will," Corvin said confidently. "But only if we prove ourselves first. That's where you come in."
Xander raised an eyebrow.
"You've going to start working with one of the best blacksmiths in the kingdom," Corvin continued. " He's a good friend of mine, I'll take you to him myself. If you can convince him to try something new—something bold—it'll set the tone for the rest of the village."
"And while you're doing that," Jarek added, "I'll meet with the farmers. Show them how irrigation and crop rotation can change their yields."
Eamon smirked. "I'll handle the traders. They're a tough crowd, but if anyone can convince them to try new methods, it's me."
Xander nodded slowly, a sense of purpose beginning to form. It was risky—challenging traditions always was—but he couldn't deny the potential.
"All right," he said finally. "Let's do it. We'll start with the basics and build from there. But if we're going to succeed, we need to be united. No half-measures."
The group exchanged determined glances, their resolve solidifying.
"To change," Corvin said, raising his tankard.
"To change," the others echoed.
As Xander clinked his tankard against theirs, he felt the first flicker of hope since his arrival in this world. The road ahead would be difficult, but for the first time, he wasn't walking it alone.
The next day, the group wasted no time putting their plan into action.
Xander followed Corvin down the winding path toward the blacksmith's workshop. The air was thick with the scent of iron and burning coal, and the rhythmic clang of hammer against metal grew louder with each step. The workshop itself was modest yet sturdy, its stone walls darkened by years of soot and smoke.
As they approached, Xander caught sight of the man within. The blacksmith was broad-shouldered and stocky, with arms like tree trunks, his muscles honed by decades of labor. His thick, grizzled beard was peppered with streaks of gray, and his skin bore the marks of his craft—calloused hands, faint burn scars, and a complexion tanned from countless hours by the forge. Sweat glistened on his brow, and his dark, weathered eyes were focused intently on the task before him.
He was hammering away at a glowing piece of metal, sparks flying with every strike. Each movement was precise and deliberate, his strength tempered by a craftsman's control. His tunic, once a pale beige, was smudged with ash and grease, and a thick leather apron protected him from the heat and stray sparks.
When the blacksmith finally turned, the hammer in his hand paused mid-swing as he noticed the two men standing at the entrance. His gaze shifted to Xander briefly before settling on Corvin. Without a word, he set the hammer down with a metallic clink, removed his thick gloves, and wiped his brow with a cloth hanging from his belt.
"Corvin," the man said, his voice deep and gravelly, carrying a warmth that belied his imposing appearance.
Corvin stepped forward, a smile tugging at his lips. "Erynd," he greeted, clasping the blacksmith's arm in a familiar gesture. It was the kind of handshake that spoke of years of trust. "Still hammering away at perfection, I see."
Erynd chuckled, his laughter a low rumble. "It's the only way I know." His eyes flicked back to Xander, appraising him briefly before he added, "And who's this lad?"
"This is Xander," Corvin said, stepping aside to let Xander come forward. "He's new in town, but he's got a good head on his shoulders. I was hoping you could help him out for a while."
Erynd arched a thick brow, his gaze shifting between the two of them. "Help him how?"
Corvin's tone softened, his familiarity with the blacksmith evident in his easy demeanor. "He needs work—something to keep him busy and grounded. I figured if there's anyone who could teach him a thing or two about hard work and resilience, it's you."
Erynd tilted his head, studying Xander more intently now. His dark eyes lingered on Xander's hands, noting their lack of callouses, and his posture, which spoke of someone still unaccustomed to physical labor. "Doesn't look like he's ever held a hammer," Erynd said, though there was no malice in his tone—only a hint of amusement.
Xander straightened slightly, feeling the weight of the blacksmith's scrutiny. "I learn fast," he said, his voice steady but respectful.
Erynd's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. "Fast, huh? Well, you'll need more than that in this line of work." He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging slightly beneath his sleeves. "You've got to be tough, patient, and willing to make mistakes. Think you can handle that?"
Xander nodded, meeting Erynd's gaze with determination. "I'll do my best."
Corvin clapped a hand on Erynd's shoulder. "Come on, old friend. Do this for me. You and I both know you could use the help around here, and I wouldn't have brought him if I didn't think he could manage it."
Erynd exhaled, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. "You always did have a way with words, Corvin." He extended a hand to Xander, his grip firm. "Alright, lad. You've got yourself a place here. But don't think I'll go easy on you just because Corvin asked."
"I wouldn't expect you to," Xander replied, shaking Erynd's hand firmly.
Erynd released his grip and gestured toward the forge. "Then let's get started. If you're going to work here, you'll need to know the basics. Come on, I'll show you the ropes."
As Erynd turned back to his tools, Corvin shot Xander a reassuring glance. "You're in good hands, Xander. Erynd's the best there is."
Xander nodded, a flicker of gratitude in his chest. For the first time in days, he felt a sense of purpose—a tangible place to start building something new.
Meanwhile, Jarek met with skeptical farmers, demonstrating the benefits of irrigation and crop rotation. Eamon began speaking to traders, using his military connections to persuade them to take risks on new goods and routes.
The work was slow, but progress was visible. The seeds of change had been planted. And Xander knew that with time, they would grow into something far greater than any of them could imagine.