Day 11. More words has been added to my repertoire, The villagers not as dumb as I thought, but still plenty stupid. I don’t understand their automaton golem things, I asked the kids about it and all I was able to glean was something about belief is what summons the aberration. After a night of sleep, somehow I have come to the conclusion that it’s held together by something called focus(?)

And that there should be a core that contains it.

Anyways at least they are kind enough to do what I wish with the scraps. Presenting Chirp Chirp! Which is literally a wind up toy that goes chirp chirp… why did I make this?

Name took a long look at chirp chirp, not quite sure why she made it or how or even why she decided to call it chirp chirp. Just that she did with her ‘knowledge’. Closing the book, Name stored it along with the metal toy that entertained her for most of yesterday and jumped off the watchtower and promptly fixed the well roof again. She picked up the broken pieces, fitting them back together along the cracks and breakage

“Duct tape.” Name muttered under her breath half heartedly as she lifted the broken well roof over her head, hoping it would trigger another ability similar to ‘storage’ or ‘knowledge’, and carefully backing away, the now barely held together roof has been carefully put back on the broken posts, it’s splintered pieces put back together held in place by nothing but friction.

“There! Done! Good as new! (as long as nobody uses it)” Name exclaimed. Admiring her (not) handy work.

“Now that is finished” She turned her head and saw the blacksmiths are at the burnt out pyre picking out the metal shells for their forges. Then the ash is thrown directly to the compost pile along with any food scraps and hay. Bones are ground to dust before put in the pile. And other things.

Name followed the blacksmiths as they carried away the metal shells, threw them in and smelted them.

Taking out the melted shell they pounded on it, shaping it into a flat rectangle before folding them and hammering down again.

Name watched in silence as they did their work, waiting until they took a break to ask,

“Why don’t you just mine the ones inside of doing all that work to salvage the metal from the pyre and making it usable?”

The blacksmiths only looked at her in confusion.

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“Oh right you don’t. Uhhh…” Name looked around and called out.

“Hey! Kid! Here! Help!” Name exclaimed in villager tongue waving her arms around wildly.

Name just repeated this until kids came over. Holding the leather ball they were kicking around earlier.

“Huh… sorry. I need help”

The blacksmiths got to enjoy some Uhh… interpretive dance while eating their lunch.

The blacksmiths just looked at each other then quickly finished their lunch to get back to work. Just in time for the old lady who used the well Name had ‘fixed’ to catch up and find her. Ending with Name getting dragged by her ear as the lady once again chewed her out in a language she only understands a little bit more compared to the last time she got chewed out. Which is another way of saying. She still doesn’t understand and hasn't learned her lesson. Absolutely not regretting what she did.

She properly fixed the well this time. With help of carpenters, lifting the wood needed to be cut. Holding them in place, removing the old posts to place in the new ones. Then finally tiling and waterproofing the roof.

“Done!” She exclaimed before getting a smack on the back of her head.

“Okay Okay! I (will try my best to) not break the well again!”

The Carpenter face softened and gave Name a pat before gathering her tools and left. The old lady who chewed her out earlier handed over a broom.

“Guess I’m cleaning the rest of this up huh…” Name sighed and took the broom, and swept for the rest of the day.

Day 12- I’m continuing to observe the blacksmith and their work, the skeleton of the exploding one apparently contains enough metal to be smelted, Though the process seems to be less of them refining the metal but more of them salvaging metal that they ruined. I’ve been trying to question them with the help of the kids, but they seem to have no imagination outside their work. Why are they doing this? Why can’t they just go mine the ore itself or buy it instead of thos tendious process of melting, shaping, and folding to rid the metal of its carbon only to add it back in again. Another thing is that their movement is really precise, unusually precise, more than it reasonably should have been. Why how? Well, I can say the same about myself so I guess I’ll leave it at that.

Name closed her book and stored it. Looking at the blacksmiths again, seeing them swing their hammer and shaping the metal again. Name closed her eyes just listening to the sounds of the hammer as she waited. Feeling the comfortable ambient noise around her. Her breathing slowing. Sinking deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper…. dark but familiar, comfortable even. Calming, calmer, calmest. In…out… In… out… steady as a melting glacier. Name felt a slight discomfort, something foreign and letting it go. Slowly it went away melting into absolute bliss, her head clear, as if something has been taken off her. The only thing left is her in the purest and most concentrated form, a state of just is. Nothing but an empty shell and the slow dripping of water. By the time she awoke she found the kids on her head, in her lap, and another one on the ground all groping her? More importantly the priests who had jumped back when Name moved.

“Uhhhhhh…. what in the Empire’s name is going on?!????”