After finishing his morning routine—watering the plants in front of the house, helping his mother set the table, and taking care of some magical pets in the pen—Arthur walked over to the breakfast table. The small family was gathered together, as usual.
The scent of chamomile tea and freshly baked bread filled the warm wooden kitchen, bathed in the morning sunlight streaming through the windows. The glass reflected tiny dust motes glittering like fairy dust in the air. Sara, his mother, let out a soft laugh as she recalled last night, when everyone had tasted Arthur's Three-Spice Clawwin repeatedly and couldn't stop asking for more.
Peter, his father, lifted a glass of herbal water and took a sip before handing Arthur a letter with a gentle smile.
"Arthur, this is for you… a letter from Uncle Lewis."
"Hm?" Arthur furrowed his brows slightly. "Uncle Lewis usually writes to you and Mom. Why is this one addressed to me?"
The boy carefully opened the envelope. The paper smelled faintly of lavender, similar to the scent of the plants in Uncle Lewis's garden. The handwriting was meticulous, in deep blue ink, reflecting the calm, patient nature of its writer.
~My dear little Arthur, thank you for the incredibly delicious and unique dish. Your Three-Spice Clawwin has left both me and the villagers talking endlessly about it. I'd like you to come visit me soon—I have something to discuss regarding the upcoming festival in Nottingham next week.~
"Uncle Lewis wants to talk to me about the festival, Father," Arthur said.
Peter looked intrigued. "The Nottingham festival, huh? Well, why don't you go and talk to him, Arthur?"
"Yes, sir!" the boy replied brightly.
After breakfast, Arthur dressed in clean linen clothes, buttoned his collar neatly, and stepped out into the gentle morning breeze carrying the scent of Moonblaze flowers throughout the village. Small magical birds chirped from the trees along the way.
Uncle Lewis's house lay to the east of the village, surrounded by orderly rows of vegetables and flowers, some of which were magical and glowed faintly in the sunlight. Arthur knocked on the wooden door politely.
"Good morning, Uncle Lewis. I'm Arthur."
"Come in, Arthur," came the warm reply immediately.
Inside, the air smelled of fresh soil and leaves, still damp from watering, giving a calming feeling as if walking through a greenhouse at dawn. Wooden walls were adorned with vines of small glowing blue-green flowers, twinkling in the morning light like tiny stars.
Sunlight streamed through large windows, illuminating rows of glass pots on wooden shelves. Each pot contained small magical seedlings of emerald green. Some had leaves that shimmered like silver threads, others had translucent petals that moved with the temperature, almost as if they had their own emotions.
Uncle Lewis was watering the plants with a magical glass bottle shaped like a flute. Gentle pressure released fine silver mist that floated in the air like tiny dancing stars. The soft "shhh…" of the droplets mixed with his quiet incantations, creating a peaceful and enchanting rhythm.
Arthur noticed small wooden name tags on each pot: Moonleaf, Honeybloom, Lunar Fern, and Whitebella—magical plants he had read about but never seen in person.
Some leaves held drops of magical water that sparkled like living gemstones in the sunlight. The soft chirping of birds outside harmonized with the scent of dried herbs hanging above the shelves.
Arthur stood quietly for a moment, inhaling deeply, feeling the faint magical energy that seemed to fill the air. It was as if the entire house were alive—a home truly nurtured by a caretaker of nature.
"Arthur, you're here, my boy," Uncle Lewis said with a smile, his gentle gray eyes glinting under the foliage. "Be careful not to step on the Lunar Fern—it's about to bloom tonight."
Arthur carefully adjusted his steps, glancing at the small glowing blue plant. Its leaves quivered softly, almost as if greeting the visitor.
The house radiated warmth and tranquility, so much so that he could almost hear his own heartbeat. Everything—from the wood and pots to the falling water droplets—seemed imbued with life.
"Last night, I got to taste your Three-Spice Clawwin. Absolutely delicious," Uncle Lewis said with a broad smile, his eyes sparkling like a child's.
"Thank you, sir. I heard you wanted to talk about the festival," Arthur replied politely.
"Yes, yes. I want to ask if it's possible for you to bring your Three-Spice Clawwin to the annual festival in Nottingham."
"What kind of festival is that, Uncle?"
Uncle Lewis chuckled softly. "Ah, let me explain."
He stroked his thin white beard before speaking. "The annual festival is a major event in the kingdom. Each town and village gets a booth to sell local goods or showcase special items from their area. Big villages get wide booths, but ours… only about two by two meters, ha ha!"
"Usually, I'd bring some of the plants I grow here, but after tasting your dish, I think it would attract more attention than a handful of branches."
"And what would the village get from this festival?" Arthur asked.
"Points!" Uncle Lewis raised a finger excitedly, eyes gleaming like a child talking about their favorite toy. "Each booth earns points based on sales, visitor popularity, and votes from the kingdom's judges. The higher the score, the more support the village receives from the kingdom."
Arthur's eyes widened. "There's a ranking too?"
"Yes. Right now… hmm…"
Arthur tilted his head, curious. "Hmm… what's that, Uncle?"
"Well… just 85 points. Rank 426 out of 450 villages. Grade F, Arthur."
"Oh… only 24 spots above last place, huh? Hahaha!" Arthur laughed loudly, and Uncle Lewis chuckled along.
He put down the magical watering bottle and retrieved a thick sheet of paper from the wall, an old announcement board filled with symbols and numbers. "This is last year's results." He pointed to the village of Moonlight Village near the bottom of the long list. "See? We're still grade F… low sales, and nobody remembered our booth."
Uncle Lewis laughed dryly before continuing. "But if we earn more points, the kingdom grants many benefits. Like additional magical farmland or a magical irrigation system that draws water from the river without any labor at all."
He held up a wooden pot with a small glowing silver flower. "Two years ago, the village of Forestia got a B rank. The kingdom gave them a high-level magical watering system. Just open the lid, cast a short spell, and it waters the entire farm automatically, as if rain fell from the sky."
Arthur's eyes sparkled. "And… if we get the highest score?"
"Oh, if we reach A or S grade…" Uncle Lewis's eyes shone brightly. "The village would be recorded in the kingdom's golden registry, receive direct protection from the magical council, and traders and magical travelers from across the kingdom could freely come to trade rare ingredients."
He laughed softly. "Simply put, if our village climbs even a little, life for everyone will improve—no more long walks to the city for ingredients or medicines."
Arthur nodded slowly, imagining a brighter future for his small village: glowing magical lights, laughter echoing through the streets, children running among enchanted flower fields, and the aroma of delicious food wafting from his small shop.
A warm feeling spread through his chest. If I can help the village improve with my cooking… that would be wonderful, he thought.
"I'll do it, but I need permission from Father and Mother first," Arthur said with a smile. "If they agree, I'd like you to contact the caravan traders who just returned. We'll need more Three-Spice ingredients so I can calculate the quantities ahead of time and avoid running out during the festival."
"Of course, my boy. I'll handle it!"
At that moment, a faint notification sounded in Arthur's mind:
[ Ding… System: New quest created ]Quest Name: The Nottingham FestivalObjective: Open a food booth and sell more than 500 dishesReward: Unlock main profession / Village popularity +5
Arthur smirked slightly. "This festival is going to be more fun than I thought…"