Elena Virelle stirred awake to the soft sound of birdsong outside her window, a strange comfort in a world so unlike her own. The first rays of dawn filtered through the dusty glass panes, painting pale streaks across the wooden floor of her modest room above the bakery.
She stretched and took a deep breath. The scent of rising dough from below was familiar now—warm, yeasty, and a little sour. Even after days of waking up in this new world, she still found herself momentarily disoriented. No phone, no electricity, no city noise. Just the low creak of wooden beams and the whisper of wind through trees.
But today was not for lingering.
She got dressed quickly—pulling on a plain blouse and skirt, both slightly worn but clean—and made her way downstairs. Madame Corinne was already bustling around the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back.
"Good morning, dear," the older woman greeted without looking up. "We'll need to prepare an extra tray of rolls for the schoolhouse today. The master requested them fresh by eighth bell."
Elena nodded, moving to wash her hands. "Understood. Is there anything else we're short on?"
"Only patience," Corinne muttered, then cracked a grin. "But that's a chronic condition."
They worked in comfortable silence. The kitchen, once foreign and overwhelming, had become something of a second classroom. Elena had learned more about this town's economy, daily customs, and even social structure through flour and fire than from any book—though the books were starting to play their part.
As they shaped dough and monitored the fire in the brick oven, Elena's mind wandered to the question that had been gnawing at her: how did this world function?
She needed answers—more than just how to knead bread or wash clothes. She needed knowledge. If she was going to survive, maybe even thrive, she had to understand the bigger picture.
She got her chance later that morning.
After deliveries were sent off with a cart boy, and the bakery calmed into its late-morning lull, Madame Corinne sat down with her ledger.
Elena took a risk.
"Madame Corinne," she began, wiping her hands with a cloth, "do you know where I might find books? About this kingdom—its history, magic, politics… things like that?"
Corinne raised a brow. "Planning to become a scholar, are you?"
"Just… curious. And I like to read."
"Hmph." The woman scratched her chin. "Well, the town's public reading hall doesn't have much beyond sermon scrolls and old farmer almanacs. But if you want real knowledge, you'll need to visit the scribe's archive. It's run by Old Harwin."
Elena brightened. "Can anyone go?"
"Technically, yes. But the man charges by the page for copies, and even for reading time if you stay too long."
"How much?"
Corinne grunted. "Depends on the book. Common ledgers or apprentice manuals might cost two copper crowns per hour. But anything rare, enchanted, or political? Expect silver."
Elena's heart sank.
Currency Refresher:
10 copper crowns = 1 silver crown
10 silver crowns = 1 gold crown
She currently earned 6 copper crowns per full day of bakery work. Sometimes 8 if she helped with deliveries. That meant one hour of reading a mid-level book could cost her an entire day's pay.
Still… it wasn't impossible.
That afternoon, she finished her chores early and used the one free hour Corinne gave her each week to visit the scribe's archive.
The building was nestled between a dried goods store and a modest blacksmith's forge. It looked more like a barn than a library—stone base, timber frame, and a carved sign overhead that simply read: Scriptorium.
Inside, it was quiet. Dusty. Lined wall-to-wall with scroll racks, bookshelves, and crates of loose parchment. A bespectacled man in a thick robe looked up from a desk, where he was carefully binding pages with string.
"Can I help you?" His voice was dry as the air.
"I'm looking to read about the kingdom," Elena said. "Maybe its history or… magic systems?"
He blinked at her. "Do you have a patron's token?"
She shook her head.
"Then it's pay-per-scroll. First hour is three copper for common material. Eight for restricted."
Elena swallowed. "What's considered common?"
He gestured. "Agricultural records, geography maps, minor noble bloodlines, trade laws, some introductory magic theory."
Magic theory?
"I'll take the intro magic," she said.
Harwin handed her a faded scroll and gestured toward a reading nook in the back. It was a small table under a crooked window, the light barely enough to read by. But Elena sat down eagerly.
The scroll was titled:
"A Primer on Elemental Conduits and Arcane Threads."
It explained that this world—called Serendrei—used a form of ambient magic known as aether. Only those with an active conduit—a natural channeling core in their body—could access and manipulate it. Mages, warlocks, priests, and some alchemists fell into this category.
However, even non-mages could use magic items. Enchanted tools and talismans worked passively, bound by runes and residual energy.
The scroll also mentioned "Thread Affinity."
Each magic-user had a thread: Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Light, or Shadow. Rare ones—like Time, Blood, or Void—were either extinct or outlawed due to catastrophic wars in the past.
Elena paused. This was the first time she had any real information on magic. She reread the last paragraph twice, then carefully rolled the scroll back up.
As she paid her 3 copper to the scribe, she asked, "Do you know how someone finds out their Thread?"
"Ah, that requires an Affinity Test. Costly," Harwin replied. "The crystal alone is a gold crown. Then you need an examiner, a licensed mage. All told—two or three gold at minimum."
That was 300 copper.
Elena winced.
But at least now she had something to aim for.
---
That evening, while scrubbing trays at the bakery, Corinne glanced at her.
"You get your reading done?"
Elena nodded. "I learned about Threads."
Corinne's brow twitched. "That magic stuff? Dangerous business, girl."
"I just want to understand it."
The older woman softened. "Well, just don't go blowing yourself up. And don't go telling the townsfolk you're poking around magic. They'll think you're a hedge-witch and throw salt at your doorstep."
Elena gave a quiet laugh. "Duly noted."
---
Two Days Later
Elena was loading a sack of barley when she overheard a conversation outside the bakery. A merchant woman and a young man were bartering over potions.
"Three small vials of Clearwake for a silver?" the woman huffed. "That's robbery."
"The herbs are rare this season," the seller replied. "And the alchemist's apprentice left town. Supply's tight."
Elena's ears perked up. Potions? Apprentices?
She waited until the woman left, then approached the seller—a man in his late thirties, with a traveling cloak and an apothecary satchel.
"Excuse me, sir," she said. "Are you looking for help? In potion-making?"
He looked her up and down. "You know herbs?"
"I bake," she said. "And I read a lot."
He chuckled. "Not quite the same."
"But I learn fast."
He considered her. "I'll be staying in town for a few days. If you're serious, come to the back of the inn after second bell tomorrow. I'll test you."
She bowed slightly. "Thank you."
That night, she told Corinne.
"You're really set on learning everything, aren't you?"
"I don't want to rely on luck forever," Elena replied. "And if I can work for someone like him, I could earn more."
Corinne sighed. "Well, just don't sign any contracts you can't read. And keep your shoes dry. Alchemists always end up blowing something up."
---
The Next Morning
Elena arrived at the back of the inn, apron tucked into her belt and sleeves rolled.
The man introduced himself as Master Darel, a freelance potion-maker. He handed her a worn recipe scroll.
"Prepare me a basic Wakeroot Draught," he said. "Ingredients are labeled. Let's see if your hands can follow as well as your tongue."
The test involved measuring dried roots, boiling water in a copper pot, timing the steeping process, and adding powdered violet leaf in the final stir.
It smelled earthy, then sharply floral.
Elena handed over the vial. Darel inspected it. Tasted a drop. Then nodded.
"Not perfect, but passable. Better than two of my former apprentices."
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
"I won't pay you much. Maybe four copper a day. But you'll learn."
Elena agreed on the spot.
---
That night, she updated her notebook—a new habit she'd formed to keep track of her learning.
Elena's Journal – Entry6
"Today I learned that knowledge is more expensive than bread, but also more valuable.
Potion apprentices earn 4 copper crowns per day.
A basic potion costs 1–2 silver crowns in town.
Thread Affinity Tests cost ~3 gold crowns.
Public knowledge is limited and sometimes dangerous to seek.
But I think… I've found a new path.
And maybe… just maybe… I'll find my place in this world."
---
[End of Chapter 13]