As we left the Healer's Hall and turned right as Fiona had directed, we walked down the cobblestone street until we came upon a tall iron gate. Above it, the sign read 'Garden of Herbs' in elegant, curling script. Beyond the gate lay a sprawling garden divided into different sections, each with a distinct feel and array of plants. It was a tranquil space, filled with the earthy scents of herbs and the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. The sun filtered through the branches, casting dappled patterns on the stone pathways that wound through the various sections.

One of the gardeners, dressed in a tan tunic embroidered with green vines, noticed us approaching and made his way over. He had a warm, weathered face, the kind that spoke of years working outdoors. His hair was streaked with grey, and he looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. His features were distinct, with a flat face and narrow eyes that reminded me of someone from China. He smiled, his accent noticeable but his "common" language clear and easy to understand.

"Hello there," he greeted us kindly. "I see you've found our garden. How can I assist you today?"

I returned his smile and explained, "I just came from the Healer's Hall. It was recommended that I visit since I have skills in Herbalism and Plant Lore. I thought I'd stop by before heading back to the inn."

The gardener nodded, his eyes lighting up with interest. "Ah, that's wonderful. My name is Jian. Since you’re here and you have an interest in herbs, we can do a small assessment to determine your current skill level. Once you begin orientation, you'll have the opportunity to visit all the gardens if they apply to your interests. For now, I can offer you a test that will help place your skill at the correct level. This isn't magical—it’s a practical test that can be taken once a week to gauge your knowledge. It’s not the only way to advance, but in a town like Gyrica, it's the most efficient."

Jian handed me a small list of book titles, each written in neat, precise handwriting. "These books will help deepen your understanding," he said. "But let’s begin with the assessment. The first level is simple—identify the main cooking herbs by sight and smell."

Ana was watching avidly, her eyes wide as she took in every detail. Before I started the test, I pulled out a few snacks for her from my bag, and she sat down, nibbling on them as she worked on drawing the different plants we encountered. She seemed completely absorbed in her task, her small hands moving quickly, sketching each plant with a focused intensity.

Jian led me over to a series of planters filled with familiar herbs—basil, thyme, parsley, and more. I felt a swell of confidence as I named them off, their distinct scents guiding me. Jian nodded approvingly and moved us on to the next level.

"Now, let's test your ability to identify them purely by smell and also provide further information on them such as medicinal uses and other herbs they pair well with," he instructed, covering the herbs one by one. I leaned in, inhaling deeply, letting the scent of each herb fill my senses. I identified them easily and explained what dishes they were best used in and their other possible uses—like medicinal properties or teas. Jian smiled, clearly pleased.

"Good, good," he said, his voice filled with encouragement. "Now for the third level. This one includes more obscure herbs, ones used in specialty dishes or for medicinal purposes and herbal teas. Let's see how you do."

This part was harder. Some of the herbs were ones I hadn't worked with often, and I found myself hesitating on a few. Jian watched me closely, his eyes kind but assessing. Eventually, I managed to name them, though not without a few stumbles. Jian nodded thoughtfully.

"You passed level three, but just barely," he said with a smile. "It’s clear you have a good foundation, but I think you could benefit from more training before moving on to the next level. Practice is key."

He updated my skills, and I felt a small rush of satisfaction as I saw my Herb and Plant Lore skill increase to level four. One more level, and I'll unlock the tree.

After the assessment, Jian spent more time walking me through the different sections of the garden. Each plant had a small wooden label with its name and a brief description. Jian explained that by reading the label, the plant would be added to my plant book—my personal reference guide. Though I couldn't use the book during the tests or rely on my sensing magic, having the updated entries would definitely help me study.

As we walked, Jian paused by a tall rosemary bush. He placed a hand on it and turned to me. "Now, let me teach you something special," he said. "This is the ability to create a phantom plant. It’s an almost real version of the plant, useful for practice. You can touch it, smell it, taste it, but it can't be used for anything practical—just identification and study."

Jian demonstrated, and I watched, fascinated, as a faint shimmer appeared before the rosemary bush. An ethereal, translucent version of the plant materialized. I reached out, my fingers brushing against the phantom leaves. They felt cool and slightly yielding—almost like the real thing, but my senses told me that it was not real.

"It’s not automatic," Jian explained. "You can only do this once you’ve gained advanced knowledge of the plant—meaning you must have touched, tasted, smelled, and seen the real plant. This is a tool for learning, not a shortcut."

I nodded, understanding. I pulled out my plant book, and I noticed that the page for rosemary had a silver border of rosemary leaves, marking it as something I had advanced knowledge of. It was a small but significant detail, one that filled me with pride. In the corner was a small green icon that I focused on and it created my own phantom plant. This was amazing! I look forward to playing with this more and getting more of my plants and herbs to this level.

Jian smiled at me as we finished the tour. "You have potential," he said warmly. "Keep practicing, and remember—knowledge is as much about patience as it is about learning. Find a way to use these plants and the knowledge will come to you. Come back anytime, and we'll see how far you've come."

I thanked Jian sincerely, feeling both humbled and excited by everything I had learned. As I walked back towards the gate, Ana by my side, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. There was so much more to explore and learn, and I was eager to dive into it all.

As we walked back through the market, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for all the people who had helped us settle into this new world. It felt like we were beginning to find our place, and I wanted to show my appreciation in a small but meaningful way. I decided to buy gifts for Miriam and Tommy—something to express our thanks for their kindness.

With Ana's help, we browsed through the market, stopping at different stalls to explore the wares. The market was lively, with colorful tents and awnings flapping gently in the evening breeze, merchants calling out their goods, and the mingling scents of spices, flowers, and cooked foods filling the air. Ana found some dried fruit and honey treats that she thought would be perfect for Tommy—golden-brown pieces of dried apricot mixed with small honey-coated nuts, their texture slightly sticky and glistening in the market lights. She held them up to me with a proud smile. I couldn't help but smile back; her enthusiasm was infectious.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

For Miriam, I found a set of embroidered kitchen linens—beautifully crafted with intricate floral patterns that reminded me of the warmth she always brought to her cooking. I imagined her using them in the inn's kitchen, her face lighting up at the thought of a small token of our appreciation.

As we continued through the market, I noticed a small store that was still open, its windows glowing softly with candlelight. The sign above the door read 'Ian's Stationery and Writing Goods.' Curious, and knowing Ana's love for drawing, I decided to stop in.

The shop was cozy, filled with shelves of parchment, ink bottles, quills, and various types of notebooks. The scent of aged paper and cedar filled the air, and it felt like a place full of possibilities. Ana's eyes lit up the moment we stepped inside, her gaze flitting from shelf to shelf in excitement. She moved closer to a display of colorful inks, her small fingers brushing over the glass bottles as if she couldn't decide where to begin. Her enthusiasm was palpable, and seeing her so engaged made the entire visit feel even more magical. Ian, the shop owner, greeted us warmly, his eyes twinkling as he welcomed us in. He had a gentle demeanor and seemed genuinely interested in his customers. When Ana shyly showed him her sketches, his face lit up with delight.

"These are wonderful," Ian said, leaning down to get a better look. Ana blushed but looked pleased. Ian disappeared behind the counter for a moment and returned with a beautiful leather-bound notebook. "This one’s special," he said, handing it to Ana. "It never runs out of paper, but none can be removed—only copied out, and these—" he handed her a set of colored pencils, "—never need sharpening and never run out, as long as they're used in that book."

Ana's eyes widened in awe, and she looked up at me, her excitement palpable. Ian continued, "The book is private—only you and your mother can see what’s inside, until you turn twelve. Then, it’ll be just yours." He smiled, clearly enjoying Ana's wonder at the gift. "And the best part," he added, "is that any sketch you make can be copied over to plain paper if you want to share it or give it away, but the original stays in your book."

The price was more than I had intended to spend—20 credits—but seeing Ana's face light up like that made it worth every bit. I knew how much drawing meant to her, how it helped her find peace in a world that could easily overwhelm her. I handed over the credits, feeling a mix of pride and reassurance that Ana would have something special to keep her grounded.

Before we left, Ian showed us how to use the notebook's magic to copy pages. He explained that all Ana needed to do was lay a piece of plain paper over the page she wanted to copy, press down gently, and the sketch would replicate perfectly onto the paper, leaving the original untouched. This way, she could share her art without ever needing to remove a page from her notebook.

As we left the shop, Ana beamed, clutching her new notebook to her chest, and I felt my own heart swell with affection. It was a good day—a day filled with small but meaningful steps forward.

When we got back to the inn, we found Tommy just about to leave. He looked up, relief washing over his face as he ducked his head. "I was getting worried," he admitted. "I was about to come check if you needed an escort back."

I smiled, touched by his concern. "We’re fine, Tommy. But thank you." I handed him the small package of dried fruit and honey treats. "We picked this up for you."

Tommy's eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks flushing slightly as he took the package. "For me?" He looked down at the treats, clearly taken aback. He fidgeted slightly, his fingers brushing over the edge of the wrapping. "Thank you... " He looked up and back down quickly, a small but genuine smile tugging at his lips.

I could feel the warmth of his words, and I knew it wasn't just the gift—it was the fact that we were sharing a piece of our day with him, like we were friends, like we were a part of something together. Before we could say more, Alex and Sam waved us over from a table they had already claimed. Four glasses of cider were waiting for us, and they smiled, motioning for us to join.

As I glanced around the room, I noticed it was quieter than usual. I caught Harold’s eye and asked, "Not many people tonight, Harold?" He approached our table, nodding.

"It’s Sixth day," he explained, his voice warm. "Sixth day is a family day. Unless folks are staying at the inn, most people eat at home. Some pick up food to-go and bring it back to share with whoever they have. The church hosts those without families, and even small families often join in. It’s a way to build community. There are after-dinner socials on Sixth day," Harold continued, his voice filled with warmth. "They usually involve music, dancing, and storytelling—a way for everyone to unwind and bond as a community. But Miriam, Tommy, and I don't usually attend the first one. We like to stay home with family instead."

I nodded, understanding. "Since it’s quiet, would you all join us?" I asked. The room was nearly empty now, and I could see most patrons were finishing up and heading out.

Harold smiled, clearly touched by the invitation. "We’d be happy to." He turned and headed towards the kitchen to find Miriam. The maids had already gone home to their families, which meant it would just be the seven of us. I decided to head back to the kitchen with Ana to see if Miriam needed help bringing anything so she could join us without worries.

Miriam was bustling about, tidying up when we entered. She looked up, a little surprised but pleased. "Can I help with anything, Miriam?" I asked.

"Oh thank you my dear, it would be great if you could help carry out these trays. We let everyone go early since it was so slow."

Ana stepped forward, holding out the kitchen linens we had picked out. "For you," I said softly.

Miriam's eyes widened as she took the linens, her expression softening with emotion. "Oh, these are beautiful," she whispered, her voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you, both of you. You didn’t have to do this, but it means so much."

Ana beamed, clearly happy to have made Miriam smile. I felt a warmth in my chest, knowing that even small gestures could bring such happiness. "We wanted to," I replied, "for everything you’ve done for us—the amazing food, the opportunity to learn from you, and all the kindness you’ve shown us."

Miriam's eyes misty as she reached out and gave me a gentle hug. Then she leaned down and hugged Ana as well, her movements slow and deliberate, as if wanting to convey just how much it meant to her.

"Would tomorrow be a good time for me to start learning from you? I can come by in the morning before orientation. What time do you usually get started?" I asked with a smile.

"You might have a long day tomorrow, and it could be better to start the next day. But if you're up for it, I usually start preparing the bread and getting things going around the 4.5 hour mark." She responded but seemed happy with the thought of being able to work with me.

"I think I'd like to get started tomorrow, I need to get back in the kitchen. So, I'll see you at 4.5 hours. Is there an alarm clock or a wake-up service that I could use?"

Miriam paused for a moment, then smiled, "Well, actually, you can set an alarm mentally through your interface. It's a pretty handy feature here. Just think about the time you want to wake up and set a purpose for it, like 'wake up to help Miriam.' There's a clock icon in your journal that you can use to set this, and even select options like 'alert,' 'wake-up,' or 'go to sleep.' Your interface will notify you at that time, along with a reminder of why you set the alarm. It's quite useful!"

I thanked her with a warm smile.

"Alright then," she said, her voice brighter. "Let’s get these dishes out there, shall we?"

Ana and I helped her carry out plates of food, setting them down on the table where Harold, Tommy, Alex, and Sam were waiting. As we all settled in, I felt a deep sense of belonging. The room was filled with warmth—not just from the fire crackling in the hearth, but from the people gathered around the table. Laughter echoed as Sam shared a funny story from their past, and Harold chimed in with his own tale about a mischievous guest at the inn. Miriam shook her head with a smile, adding her own commentary, which made everyone chuckle. For the first time in a long while, I felt like we truly had a place here—a place filled with laughter, warmth, and connection.