Waking from sleep was like emerging from the bottom of a lake. The depths of sleep kept dragging me back under its murky waters. When I finally shook off the deep slumber, my body was stiff from the hard floor in front of the tavern’s hearth. The warmth of the dying embers lingered in the air, contrasting with the biting cold I felt in the forest hours earlier. I lay still, my mind floating in a haze before the sounds of the tavern’s morning routine tugged me back to reality. The clatter of pots and the muted hum of voices seeped through the wooden walls, reminding me where I was. Eldston. The Worn Hearth. A strange world I didn’t understand.
System integration complete. Full system access granted.
Map function unlocked. Notifications can be adjusted to user’s preference.
Status sheet functions updated. Journal function unlocked. Inventory tracker unlocked.
Sitting up, I winced as my sore muscles protested the movement. My thin pyjamas—so out of place here—did little to shield me from the draft that crept through the gaps in the stone walls. I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, as a small chirp drew my attention. Glowbug sat perched on the edge of the hearth, its shimmering body casting soft, flickering lights across the stone.
“Morning, Glowbug,” I murmured, my voice scratchy. Before Glowbug could chirp again, the kitchen door swung open with a creak, and Bertha appeared, her sharp eyes scanning the room. She carried a bundle of clothes in one hand and a steaming bowl in the other.
“Good, you’re awake,” Bertha said briskly, placing the bowl on the small table nearby. “Thought you might sleep all day. It’s almost ten, so the breakfasts have already come and gone, but lunch will not be far off.”
I flushed, tucking my chin to my chest. “Sorry…”
“Don’t apologize, girl. You looked like you needed it,” Bertha replied, her tone softening as she held out the bundle of clothes. “Here. Might be a bit loose on you, but they’ll do.” Knowing that I really did need a change of clothes, I accepted the bundle. The fabric felt coarse but sturdy.
I managed a quiet, “Thank you.”
Bertha waved off the gratitude and gestured to the bowl. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength. I’ll show you what needs doing once you’re ready.”
I nodded, my stomach twisting with a mix of hunger and anxiety. As I ate, Glowbug flitted to my side, humming softly. The porridge was simple but warm, and it eased some of the tension in my chest.
The Worn Hearth hummed with the quiet lull of a slow morning. Faint sunlight filtered through the small, uneven windows, throwing soft streaks of gold onto the polished wooden tables. The crackling of the hearth filled the space, the occasional clatter of mugs sounded as Garret moved behind the bar, muttering about supplies that would need fetching later. I stood at the far corner of the room, rag in hand, dutifully scrubbing at a table that was already spotless.
My body was tense, my focus locked on the rhythmic movement of the cloth over the wood. Anything to keep myself grounded, to avoid the knot of nerves that churned in my stomach. Even the gentle hum of Glowbug, perched on the edge of the hearth, felt distant.
The door creaked open, the sound louder than I expected in the quiet. I stiffened but didn’t turn around, my shoulders hunching instinctively as heavy boots stomped across the threshold. A man’s voice boomed, rough and commanding.
“Mornin’, Garret,” the stranger called, his voice carrying through the tavern like the deep rumble of thunder before a storm. I risked a glance over my shoulder. The man was tall and broad, his shoulders draped in a worn leather coat that looked as though it had seen one too many winters. A thick dark beard flecked with silver framed his chiseled face, and his heavy boots left faint scuffs on the tavern floor as he approached the bar.
“Back again, Torrin?” Garret asked, his tone dry but not unfriendly. He pulled a mug from the counter and filled it with practiced ease, the foamy ale sloshing just to the rim without spilling over. “Couldn’t wait ‘til noon?”
Torrin snorted. “Thought I’d get ahead of the rush.”
As the two men exchanged a few more words, I focused again on my scrubbing, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. But Garret’s next words froze me in place.
“Harriet!” Garret barked, the sharpness of his tone jolting me out of my skin. “Take this over to Torrin, will you?”
My pulse quickened, my grip tightening on the rag. I looked up hesitantly, eyes wide as they met Garret’s expectant gaze. “Me?”
“Aye, you. Don’t keep him waiting,” Garret said, sliding the mug closer to the edge of the counter.
My legs were as heavy as lead as I set the rag down and approached the bar. I reached for the mug, my hands trembling slightly, and muttered a quiet, “Okay.”
Torrin turned toward me as I approached his table, his piercing gaze making my heart race. Up close, he seemed even larger, the bulk of his frame casting a shadow over the table. I placed the mug in front of him with careful, deliberate movements, willing myself not to spill a drop.
Torrin studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Didn’t know Bertha was hiring.”
I froze. I hadn’t expected him to speak to me, and my mind scrambled for a response. “Um…”
“You from around here?” he pressed, his tone not unkind but carrying a weight that made me feel like I was under a spotlight. I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat. My cheeks burned as I stared at the table, the silence stretching uncomfortably.
“Well?” Torrin prompted, leaning back in his chair. His voice was casual, but there was a hint of impatience in his tone.
“I… no,” I finally managed, my voice barely audible. The single word felt like a monumental effort, and I immediately ducked my head, clutching my hands together to stop them from shaking. Torrin frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. He opened his mouth as if to say something else but stopped, glancing at Glowbug, who was perched on a nearby beam, its soft light flickering like a hesitant candle. Torrin’s expression hardened.
“That thing yours?” he asked, his voice lower now, almost suspicious.
I nodded quickly, not trusting myself to speak. Glowbug chirped softly, tilting its head as if sensing my discomfort.
“Hmph,” Torrin grunted, his gaze lingering on Glowbug for a moment before he turned back to his drink. “Better keep it under control. People ‘round here don’t take kindly to strange magic.”
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My stomach twisted at his words, and I took a step back, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I didn’t know what to say—or if I even should say anything—so I simply turned and hurried back to my corner, my heart pounding in my chest.
The Worn Hearth was modest, its interior lit by the warm glow of the hearth and the faint light streaming in through the windows. The wooden beams overhead were dark with age, and the air carried the faint scent of smoke and ale. The tables and chairs were mismatched but sturdy, their surfaces worn smooth from years of use.
That morning, the tavern was quiet, with only a few patrons trickling in as noon drew closer. The stillness was punctuated by the occasional clink of mugs or the low murmur of conversation, creating a sense of calm that I both appreciated and feared. The quiet left little room for distraction, and my thoughts wandered to the challenges that awaited. I was in a strange place, where I didn’t know the culture, didn’t know what was socially acceptable, and didn’t know what the laws were.
The people seemed friendly enough, but what if they started asking me questions?
I kept a shaky focus on the tasks I was given, and the scrubbing of bowls and tankards helped to keep my mind off of the uneasiness that being in this unfamiliar world was bringing.
As the day wore on, the atmosphere shifted. By midday, the tavern hummed with life, the voices of patrons blending into a steady background buzz. The energy was both intimidating and magnetic, drawing me into its rhythm even as I struggled to navigate the demands of working in the tavern.
My first lunchtime rush at The Worn Hearth was a whirlwind of activity. The tavern buzzed with energy as villagers streamed in, eager for a warm meal and a break from their day’s work. I moved briskly between tables, struggling to balance trays of steaming bowls and mugs of ale, my nerves on edge as I tried to keep up with the fast pace and avoid bumping into patrons. The warm, bustling vibe was a stark contrast to the sinister but comparatively quiet forest I’d left behind.
Sweat beaded on my brow, and my arms ached from carrying heavy trays, but I pressed on, determined to meet the demands of my new environment. Glowbug curled its tail around my neck, its soft hum a steady comfort as I navigated the crowded room. Despite my fatigue, I felt a flicker of pride each time I successfully delivered an order without spilling.
Bertha caught my eye from behind the bar and gave an approving nod. The older woman was pouring drinks with practiced efficiency, her sharp eyes scanning the room to ensure everything ran smoothly. “Harriet! Table in the corner needs their stew topped up,” she called over the din.
“On it!” I replied, my voice firm and clear. I grabbed the ladle and a fresh bowl of stew, weaving my way through the patrons to deliver it. Torrin, the gruff traveler I’d met that morning, gave a nod of thanks as I placed the bowl in front of him.
“Settling in, then?” he asked, his sharp eyes softening slightly.
I nodded, unsure of what to say. Torrin’s demeanor was rough, but there was a kindness beneath it, I thought. I lingered for a moment longer than necessary before retreating to the kitchen.
The lunchtime rush tested my stamina like nothing else. By the time the tavern began to quiet, my muscles burned, and my feet throbbed, but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Each tray carried and each order delivered was another step toward rebuilding myself.
“Not bad for your first shift,” Bertha said as I wiped down a table. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, girl. Keep at it, and you might just make a fine tavern lass.”
I flushed but said nothing, a mix of embarrassment and determination bubbling inside me. I could feel the burn in my muscles, the slow awakening of parts of my body that had been dormant for too long.
Talent Unlocked: Basic Endurance
Accept? Yes/No
I couldn’t help but smile. It would fill up my last Talent slot, according to my Status sheet, but this sounded like a really good one. Endurance was something I could count on to keep me on my feet for longer. I knew I couldn’t pass it up. I accepted the new talent with a mental command and moved on to the next task Bertha handed me. As the lunchtime crowd filtered out of the tavern, and the afternoon wore on, I found myself assigned to fetch water from the nearby well. The full buckets weighed more than I expected, and carrying them back to the tavern left me panting and light-headed. I paused frequently to catch my breath, my legs trembling under the strain. I was sure that my new talent was being tested, and not sure how much it was actually helping.
“Not bad for a first time,” said Larkin, the hobbe I’d seen earlier, who I found leaning casually against the well when I was making my third trip. “A few more days of that, and you’ll have muscles to rival Bertha’s.”
I shot him a weak smile, unsure whether to take his comment as encouragement or teasing. I adjusted my grip on the buckets and trudged back toward the tavern.
As the sun dipped lower, the dinner rush began. My nerves steadied as I moved through the tavern, my earlier fumbling replaced by a growing confidence. The villagers were friendly, often offering kind words or teasing remarks that brought faint smiles to my face. Bertha watched with a keen eye, stepping in to help only when absolutely necessary.
“You’re doing fine, lass,” Bertha said when I dithered at the bar, unsure which table needed their drinks. “Just keep your head up and trust yourself. You’ll get the hang of it.”
By the end of the evening, I was exhausted but proud. Glowbug’s soft hum seemed to echo my own feelings of accomplishment as I collapsed onto a stool by the hearth. Bertha set a bowl of stew and a mug of ale on the table next to me, and gave my shoulder an encouraging squeeze.
“Good work today. Not excellent, you did spill some drinks and made mistakes, but that’s how you learn. And I could tell you were trying, which is the main thing. Get some rest, lass. Busy day again tomorrow.”
I began to wonder if the roof over my head, meals, and clothing were enough recompense for the grueling work I was doing. But where else could I go right now? Certainly not back to the woods, and besides, this seemed like as good a place as any, for right now. I shrugged, ate my stew, and, after sniffing the ale, I downed it, hoping that it would help me to sleep easier. I was going to need my sleep.
Over the course of the following days, my routine became more familiar. I started each morning by helping Bertha prepare the tavern for the day, wiping down tables and sweeping the floors. The physical labor was harsh at first, but my stamina improved with each passing day. Bertha made sure I ate hearty portions of bread, stews, and roasted vegetables, ensuring my body had the fuel it needed to recover.
Each day brought new challenges. Fetching water became easier as my muscles grew stronger, and carrying heavy trays no longer left me trembling. The system’s notifications of small attribute increases and improvements to my condition became a daily occurrence, each one a small victory that reminded me of my progress.
Between my chores, I found myself interacting with the locals more than I anticipated. At first, my shy nature made these exchanges awkward, but the people of Eldston were patient. Bertha often assigned me to serve drinks or deliver meals, forcing me out of my comfort zone.
By the end of the week, my condition had improved significantly. My arms and legs, once weak and trembling, had gained strength and stability. The dizziness that had plagued me faded, replaced by a newfound resilience. Even my social skills, long neglected, showed signs of improvement. I could hold brief conversations with patrons without freezing up, and I found myself looking forward to the friendly banter that filled the tavern each night.
The combination of physical labor and regular meals transformed me. The system confirmed my progress with notifications of increased attributes and unlocked talents, each one a reminder of how far I’d come.
Name: Harriet Price
Age: 24
Type: Human (Level 0)
Titles(0/1): None
Classes(0/1): None
Professions(0/1): None
Talents(5/5): Basic Identify, Basic Survival Instincts, Basic Crafting, Sense Magic, Basic Endurance
Condition: Normal
Attributes:
Vitality: 54/54
Physical: 12
Mental: 14
Social: 8
Luck: 10
Experience: 0/100