Vin's chore-filled day had more to come. The next stop didn't benefit his opinion of the barbarians, as he sat with Maeve to sanction a high-profile fight between two Ravenour men who were at odds over a woman. As one would expect, when you have differences with another, you get shirtless and beat the living shit out of your opponent until they're dead.

It wasn't a happy ending. Sure, one of the men won himself a bride. However, the tears shed by the father of the deceased competitor blackened the celebration. Vin's face remained straight under the public gaze, although he fought a sense of revulsion.

As if he hadn't already done enough, he was toted across town to a public shop. The smell of cut wood blasted him immediately when he entered. The building had a high-raised roof, with large, hexagonal windows on all sides of the walls. The left and right flanks of the structure served different purposes. The left had six simple rows of wooden shelves that resembled the aisle of a supermarket, while the right looked like a workstation—an unruly one at that.

Vin peeked at the sight of the clutter of wooden works, including benches, bed frames, and statue carvings, among other hand-sculpted pieces. He could see sawdust floating in the sunlit building as if someone had just finished crafting. He didn't move too far from the entrance, but after seeing his favorite thing in the world, he began walking to the right of the shop.

A bald, muscular Ravenor with little on except pants and a work smock saw Vin wandering. The man beefed up and repurposed the pointed tool he used to work into a weapon. He had to have said something akin to a curse word before waving the instrument around and shouting offenses. Vin stopped, blinked at the man, then took to his Journal to see if he could translate anything he'd said.

Nothing. Vin just knew from the man's tone that he was furious. Clearly uninformed that Vin was recently disclosed to damn near be a Messiah. Seeing how that muscle-necked individual hadn't heard the news, Vin was basically just a lanky human with similarities to Elves, the race Ravenours were at war with.

The Princess calmly defused the situation, dropping the word "human" at several points in her clarification. It served to lessen the man's hostility but not his frustration. The horned craftsman dragon scales were as bright red as his rage when he stormed back to his work. He slammed his heavy bottom onto a lumber stool that shattered on impact and landed him in its remains. The beefy man jolted up, roared, then grabbed another seat before roughly sitting and banging his fist on an extended, wooden workbench.

Vin eyed Tristen seeking sense in the matter, but the young man just shrugged and shook his head. The place was rowdy, but that worker's reaction was mild considering someone like Vin was in his shop. The lack of banners or religious totems showed he cared little about status or the ongoing faction war. Anyhow, Vin continued toward the right side of the building. He'd seen a skateboard without its front wheel bearings and roamed to pick it up.

"Don't touch that!" The Ravenour man boomed, rocketing up from his workbench. His initial shout reminded Vin a bit of his father. It was because he lived with someone just as rackety that he wasn't the least bit shaken.

"Why?" Vin responded in Vulcan. He surprised himself with how quickly he realized what the man had yelled. He didn't learn the word "touch," but it made sense in the context of holding something that didn't belong to him. Unfortunately, everything that followed was lost to his ears. But the way the man swung his work tool around like a stabby serial killer was enough incentive for him to put the board down.

Eventually, the brute bashed back into his seat and resumed work. Vin glanced at the man's messy workbench, noticing a second, disfigured skateboard was directly in front of him. Dozens of tools and metal bolts were scattered around the human contraption that evidently had the man stumped. Vin made eye contact with the intense-eyed royal and then with Tristen, who raised his brows in a way that suggested, "Good luck."

The previous night, Vin had instructed all those heavy Ravenours to jump up and down on their skateboards like idiots instead of properly teaching them how to use them. He felt he owed the skateboards an apology for leading them to end up in such a sorry state. Even so, Vin quickly considered whether he wanted to teach the enemy how to fix their equipment. He now knew some higher being added skateboards on the small list of items individuals could bring to the Archival Dimension, which supposedly disintegrated items from the Mortal Realm upon entry.

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Well, it wasn't like any of them would ever enter the Archive. Just recalling how strong Hughton, an Expert Rank, was, their most powerful warrior would never ascend to Legend rank in their comparatively short lifetime. Also, having maintained gear meant nothing if they didn't know how to use it.

With his decision made, Vin walked to Tristen and opened his notes. He asked what he needed regarding the language, then moved on. Next, Vin pulled a stool up to the workbench, sat, and immediately grabbed the first metal tool he saw while lamely saying, "I can help you fix it."

While distrustful, the large man didn't blow up. It was a human invention, after all. Vin looked at the tip of the metal screwdriver-like item he picked up, then dropped it. He then scanned the surface for anything similar to the tools he owned at his old desk, which had also been his workbench, where he fixed his own skateboards. As he searched, he noticed that the man was already on the right track and likely to figure it out, regardless of his help. The issue was that Ravenours hadn't invented a socket wrench yet, but they had something similar enough. Vin made do with what he had, forcing tools unequipped for the job to labor at his will. He found nostalgia in the challenge. He wasn't always adept with fixing his own equipment either, but the toil of learning as a child was enjoyable.

Minutes of labor passed, and he even found a welcomed sweat roll down his face. Gideon, who had been watching too intently, was damn near over his shoulder watching the whole process. Tristen, as antsy as ever, found something to occupy himself with. He was standing on a flat, crude-cut plank of wood made for another one of the carpenter's crafts. It was much longer than a typical skateboard, but Tristen stood on it like one and steadied himself. It was evident he'd missed, maybe even craved, the feeling of mounting a skateboard again. He was not patient enough to learn how the skateboard functioned but cared more about how to bend it to his will.

Maeve stood back with her arms crossed. Her beautifully distinguishable figure was relaxed. Occasionally, Vin would peek over at her and admire her abnormality and how she'd made a way to fit in with those people nevertheless.

It took about an hour to fix the skateboard with mismatched tools, but after, there was an unexpected celebration from the carpenter. He jumped from his seat, pumped both fists, and shouted in victory before pounding his massive palm against the human's back. The force jolted Vin's entire body forward; the only thing that stopped him from flying through the window was the heavy workbench he sat at. He rasped in ache, then tried to sit upright again before another two heavy slaps sent him forward. Vin knew he was weaker than those people, but there was no reason for him to be flying back and forth like an inflatable tube man.

Tristen noticed Vin's unexpected fight for survival and tugged at the man's arm while laughing himself. Vin wobbly stood up with a hunch in his back, groaning dryly and rubbing his spine. He heard Gideon mask a snicker, which made him turn around and scowl at the man who'd found humor in his pain.

Maeve uncrossed her arms and remarked, "Good job." Vin dropped his gaze to the ground, closed his eyes, and groaned while rubbing his aching back, "Thanks."

The carpenter laughed heartily, then picked up the board and tossed it to Tristen to test out. Next, the bald Ravenour grabbed the skateboard that Vin had seen on a shelf and began to do his best to fix it alone, recollecting everything Vin had taught him. Gideon pulled up a seat, evidently interested in this endeavor, and aided. It appeared like simple curiosity, but the more Gideon's long hands moved, the more animated his expression became.

There was something offputting about a violent guard and a carpenter working together to fix a skateboard. Tristen was only tasked with testing the board but had started training seriously. Regular thumps and crashes onto the wood floor proved he didn't have much self-restraint, even in the presence of royalty.

Vin plainly eyed everyone, the unlikely duo engrossed in fixing a skateboard and the manic young man who couldn't stay down after a fall. He shook his head, tucked his hand in his pocket, and mumbled in Earthian, "Arnt you having fun…"

Seeing the half-dragons share his fixation with skateboards was strange. Maybe it was a hint of a sense of comradery? He felt the corner of his mouth with his free hand, thinking, 'What a strange world.'

Before anyone knew it, another hour had passed. Maeve towed Vin with her gaze, leaving him to wonder what chore he'd be sent to next. The carpenter closed in on him for another friendly assault, but Vin promptly uttered, "You're welcome," and then dashed out of reach.

The man grinned, pounded his own chest, and, with new trust in the human, began with late introductions. It was Chucky, a name way too diminutive for someone the size of a tree trunk. Chucky roamed to a back room, unlocked it, and then returned with a scroll that many crafters used; however, since he didn't have an apt for magic, it just collected dust. It was a spell of "Marking," an ability that created glowing marks on objects, usually used with measurement tools. He offered it to Vin, who had no reason to refuse, and with that, the assignment came to an end. With the day ending, he hoped he could get back on track with his actual objective. At no point did the uneasiness pass of knowing his family was thousands of miles away. He only prayed the war on humans and didn't put them in any dangerous predicament.