The rest of the morning before lunch passed in much the same way, each log a reminder of Cheeses` limits. By the time the sun rose high in the sky, his arms were sore, and his hands felt like they’d been torn raw. But the stack of piled logs beside him was high, and his task was done. Mauren gave him a shake of the head he passed by.
“Dammit, Cheese,” Mauren said. “You’re the steadiest journeyman we have but those boys will never learn if you keep babying them.”
Cheese mumbled an apology as the new hires tried to hide their shame and defend him. To them he was a powerhouse, and without his help they would have fallen behind. But neither Cheese or Mauren cared for that. If one fell behind, then one fell behind. Another man would always be there to pick up the slack. Cheese had never fallen behind in such work, even as a child.
"Yes mauren" he replied after a moment.
"Well good work anyway" the foreman replied. "Now get home and get some food, all of you." the otehr man turned without furter ado and walked to another group of men who were finishing up.
As he made his way back home, Cheese couldn’t shake the feeling of dissatisfaction. Level 14—enough to make a living but not enough to advance, to achieve anything of real worth in Timberbrook. His thoughts returned to the tales of adventurers, those who threw caution to the wind for a chance at something greater. He knew his path was set, that this life was secure and dependable. But he couldn’t shake the nagging thought that maybe, somewhere out there, something more awaited him. Not adventure; he was to simple a man to yearn for that. But a man can desire greatness many ways, and for Cheese it was the desire for greatness in this. The axe. In the chopping and wielding of a blade in his hands.
Suddenly Cheese stopped in his tracks, a frown forming on his face.
[Skill up! Athletics: 14]
The sight of another skill stalled at fourteen felt like a mockery. No matter how hard he worked, it seemed he was always pushing against some invisible wall, a barrier that allowed only a rare few to pass. His father had often spoken of the bottleneck and how it held many of Timberbrook’s working folk back. But Cheese had always thought he’d somehow find a way to break through.
He opened the door to his small house, letting it swing shut behind him. The room felt emptier than usual, as if it too shared in his exhaustion. Setting down his battered axe, he collapsed onto the wooden stool near the table and slumped forward, rubbing his sore shoulders.
The sight of his meal—some bread he’d saved from breakfast, a leftover chunk of cheese from Ibron—sat on the table. Cheese gave it a weary look, but even hunger was a weak motivator with the weight of his frustration pressing him down. He dropped his head into his hands, feeling the rough callouses scrape his face, and sighed. Fourteen. No matter what he did, the number stayed the same.
He thought of his friend Ibron, who always seemed to carry himself with an easy confidence, finding ways to trade, barter, and strike deals that others only dreamed of. Cheese had long envied his resourcefulness. Ibron’s skills might not be glamorous, but they let him get by without fighting for every scrap. And the man was content. Why could Cheese not be happy. Why could he not press through and get what he chased after.
“Fourteen,” he muttered to himself. It was a wall he couldn’t climb, a ceiling that kept pressing him down.
What was the point? He had no chance of finding a way past the skill limits—no chance of advancing in life, either, it seemed. He’d tried everything: extra shifts, side work, even grueling exercises he’d picked up from the local priest of Dal. Nothing moved the needle. And here he was, years later, still stuck.
A knock on the door roused him from his thoughts. Cheese willed the invader to leave, but still he straightened, blinking, before he heard Ibron’s familiar voice on the other side. “Cheese? You in there?”
Cheese opened the door to see his friend’s grinning face. “A bit early for the end of the day, isn’t it?” Ibron asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“More than one, if I’m honest,” Cheese muttered, sinking back onto his stool. He didn’t have to explain his frustration; Ibron had heard it all before.
Ibron looked around, taking in the meager spread on the table, and shook his head with a soft chuckle. “You know, if you’d just let yourself take a break every once in a while, maybe you’d make some progress.”
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Cheese sighed, folding his arms. “A break won’t change my level in Axework, or Athletics, or anything else. I’ve tried all that.”
Ibron shrugged. “Maybe. But you’re also as stubborn as the day is long. You put yourself through the wringer, day after day, and then wonder why things stay the same. You’re not a machine, Cheese. You’re just… Cheese.”
The words stung, but they had a ring of truth to them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything but work or strain himself in some attempt to reach level fifteen. “I just… I need to be better, Ibron. I need to reach the next level. For once, I’d like to see my skills mean something.”
Ibron studied him thoughtfully, then leaned back against the table. “You know, there’s something to be said for being satisfied with what you’ve got. Not everyone’s meant to be a master. Plenty of folks live good lives here in Timberbrook without breaking past the bottleneck.”
“I know,” Cheese said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I want more than just to get by. I want to be able to give something better, start something—like a family. I can’t do that while I’m stuck where I am.”
The words hung in the air for a moment before Ibron sighed. “Well, then, let’s take a walk. The fresh air might do you some good. Who knows—maybe inspiration will strike on the way.”
Cheese shook his head saying “I cant, I'm scheduled to join the swimmers in this afternoons run to Fairhaven.”
His friend smiled and replied “No you Arn`t, I talked to the boss. We have the day off” Then he grabbed his friend and pulled him into a walk out the door. Cheese grabbed his water skin as he went.
The midday sun was soft and golden as it his their faces, casting a warm glow over Timberbrook as they set off down the familiar, well-worn path. With a few steps they were out in the countryside. Their houses were only a single row away from the wilds and the town held no walls. Fields of swaying grasses stretched out along the edges of town, dotted with wildflowers and the occasional sturdy, towering tree that would never under the weight of an axe. Birds chirped lazily, weaving through the air as though the day itself were as slow and reluctant as Cheese felt.
They walked in silence for a while, letting the sounds of the countryside fill the spaces between them. Farmers worked in distant fields, bent over their tasks, occasionally straightening up to wave or nod as Cheese and Ibron passed. A couple of children dashed past them, chasing each other with peals of laughter and leaving a trail of dust in their wake. Cheese’s gaze lingered on them, envying their boundless energy.
“You don’t look too bad for a guy who’s got nothing left in him,” Ibron teased, nudging Cheese with his elbow. “Just like old times, right? Remember when we’d run through these fields, trying to race each other all the way to the river?”
Cheese gave a faint grin. “Yeah, I remember. Though I was a bit faster back then.” He glanced sideways at Ibron, feeling a bit of that old warmth stir. “Athletics got to fourteen today. Hit it on the walk back from the yard.”
“Another fourteen, huh?” Ibron’s face softened, his usual teasing slipping away. “It’s rough, mate. That wall… it’s like we’re all trying to claw through a stone wall with our bare hands. There’s no shame in being tired of it.”
Cheese nodded, kicking a stray pebble on the path. “It feels like everything I try to get better at just… stops. Everyone keeps saying level fifteen means mastery, but it might as well be some magic trick. I’ve been busting my back just to get by, and for what? I’ll never get anywhere, let alone impress someone enough to marry.”
Ibron’s mouth curled into a smirk. “Ahh, so there’s a bit of romance behind all this ambition. Got someone in mind, then?”
Heat crept into Cheese’s face, and he shook his head quickly. “Not really. I mean, no one specific. It’s just… at my age, I should be able to start a family if I want. But look at me—what have I got to offer? In the name of dread all my money seems to do to tools these days.”
Ibron shrugged, kicking a clump of dirt as they walked. “Plenty of lads in Timberbrook feel the same way. But I don’t know, Cheese. There’s something about ambition in a man. And you’ve got that in spades, even if it doesn’t always come with all the skill points. Plus, you’ve got some charm to spare.”
Cheese snorted. “Charm means nothing they’re all looking at you instead!” he gave his friend a well-meaning wallop on the shoulder. It actually looked like it had hurt a bit but his friend shrugged it off with a laugh. “Nah, mate, they’re looking for someone who’ll stick by them, not chase the next flashy opportunity,” Ibron said, shaking his head. “Honestly, they’re more likely to go for someone like you. But you’ve got to see yourself that way, first.”
They passed a corpse of trees, their tall, sturdy trunks casting long shadows across the path. Beyond the trees lay a vast field, dotted with wildflowers in shades of yellow and blue. Cheese let himself enjoy the view for a moment, feeling the tightness in his chest begin to ease.
As they turned a bend in the path, Cheese let out a sigh. “If only it were easier to believe that.“
After a moment of silence Ibron said “You heard about the adventurers?”
Cheese shook his head and his friend continued. “They.... They came back this morning. The nobles in bad shape. They said that they found something out there. They killed it, but he looked like hed had his face eaten off. It was pretty bad.”
Cheese shivered and made a sign to the gods. The two of them fell silent, walking side by side along the path. The air was filled with the scent of wild grass and pine, a comforting reminder of the countryside they both knew by heart. As they walked, they occasionally passed other villagers: a hunched old man, leaning heavily on a cane, gave them a nod; a pair of young sisters in simple dresses hurried by, their laughter carrying on the breeze. They had long ago turned back to the town, and eventually the two young men reentered their home.
But then, just as they were about to go indoors, a distant scream split the air.