The villagers, a desperate collection of farmers and laborers, found Elias half-hidden in the burnt ruins of the hut, his face smeared with ash. They were not grateful. They were suspicious, their faces a canvas of fear and distrust. Their own swords were rusting, their few bows strung with brittle cord. They were a people on the brink of collapse, their spirit broken by a war they could not hope to win. Elias, his mind racing with possibilities, tried to explain his situation, but the words felt alien on his tongue. He was from a place called "America," a land of "freedom" and "democracy," concepts that were as alien to them as his rifle.
Their leader, a broad-shouldered man in dented plate mail, stepped forward. This was Ser Kael, a knight whose noble lineage and magical abilities were so weak they were a cruel joke. He could make his sword glow faintly, a pale, useless light in the face of true magical power. He was a good man, but he was a man of the old world, a man who believed in honor, chivalry, and duels. He was out of his depth.
"Who are you, outlander?" Kael demanded, his voice trembling with a mixture of authority and exhaustion. "You have no magic, no title, yet you wear the clothes of a noble and carry a strange staff."
Elias was a man of logic, not faith. He knew that to gain their trust, he had to prove his worth, and quickly. He was a pragmatist, a soldier. He knew how to win a war, not a debate. "My name is Elias Thorne. The staff is a tool. It is broken. I am not a noble. I am here to help you."
The villagers scoffed. "Help us? You stand here, in the ashes of our homes, offering nothing but words. We've been fighting these mages for months. We've lost everything. Our strength, our resolve… it's gone." Ser Kael nodded in agreement, his eyes filled with a deep, weary sadness. "The Grand Archon will not be swayed by empty promises. Our only hope is to die with our honor intact."
Elias saw the writing on the wall. They were "on the brink of rebellion" but lacked the tools, tactics, and spirit to fight back. They were trapped in a cycle of defeat, clinging to a code of honor that had long since become a liability. Elias knew that to save them, he had to break that code. He reached into his pocket and held up a small, sealed canister he'd somehow brought with him. "I can give you more than hope," he said, the words echoing with a conviction that startled even him. "I can give you a spark." The canister contained a small amount of a substance that would, in his world, change the face of warfare forever. It was a sample of gunpowder, a reminder of the world he had lost, and a symbol of the world he was determined to build.