Chapter 4: The Hall
The stew was thick with rabbit meat, root vegetables, and herbs I could not name. Steam curled up from the wooden bowl, carrying scents that made my mouth water in a way nothing had since Earth. The dark bread was crusty outside, soft within. I tore off a chunk and dipped it, eating slowly at first, then faster as hunger took over.
Mira watched from across the table, arms folded. Torv had left us alone after delivering me, the door thudding shut behind him. The hall was mostly empty now. A few villagers lingered at distant tables, speaking in low voices, casting occasional glances my way.
I finished half the bowl before speaking.
"Thank you," I said. "For the food. And for not turning me away at the gate."
Mira nodded once. "We don't turn away new arrivals. Not yet. Too few of us left after the last wave." She pulled out a chair and sat opposite me. "Torv says you walked in alone. No class. No gear. Covered in blood that isn't yours."
"Not mine," I confirmed. "Helped something in the woods. Got a little messy."
Her gray eyes narrowed. "What kind of something?"
"Big stag. Wrong proportions. Wounded bad. Something else tore its leg off."
She leaned forward. "Three-toed tracks? Deep claws?"
I nodded.
Mira exhaled slowly. "That matches what's left of our hunters. Three of them went west five days ago. Only pieces came back. Whatever's out there is new. Bigger than horned cats. Smarter. Doesn't leave survivors."
She stood and walked to the map table. Unrolled a parchment yellowed with age. It showed Elden Hollow at the center, surrounded by forest, fields, a river to the south. Westward, the trees were marked denser, with a small tower icon near the edge.
"We call it the old watchtower," she said, tapping the icon. "Built generations ago when monsters pushed closer. Roof collapsed years back. Stairs half rotten. But it's high ground. Overlooks the western woods better than anything else we've got."
I joined her at the map. The tower was maybe half a day's walk.
"Nobody wants the job of fixing it," she continued. "Too much work. Too isolated. And now too dangerous. But if that thing comes east again, we'll see it from up there. Get warning. Maybe save lives."
She looked at me directly.
"I need someone there. One person can hold it. Clear rubble, patch the roof, keep watch. Report back daily if you can. It's not glorious. It's not safe. But it's useful."
"I'll take it," I said without hesitation.
Mira studied me for a long moment. "You don't even know the pay."
"Don't care. I need work. Food. A place to start."
She gave a short, approving nod. "Ten coppers up front. Hot meal every night you report in. If you spot the beast and live to tell us, fifty more. If you make the tower livable long-term, we'll talk permanent lodging and better pay."
She reached into a belt pouch and counted out ten small copper coins. They clinked warmly into my palm. Real weight. Real value.
"Common stores are by the gate," she said. "Take what you need: rope, hammer, nails, tarp, waterskin. Don't overload yourself. Sun's still good for four hours. You can reach the tower by dusk if you leave soon."
I pocketed the coins. "Anything else I should know?"
"Stay off game trails after dark. Horned cats hunt in pairs. Whatever killed our hunters hunts alone. If you see it, run. Don't try to fight. Not yet."
She paused, then added, "One more thing. Girl came through yesterday. Short black hair. Ranger class. New bow still shiny. Asked if we'd seen a Null newcomer walking alone. Said her name was Lira. Told her we'd keep an eye out."
Lira. From the meadow.
My pulse quickened slightly. "She say why?"
"Only that she owed you a proper goodbye. And maybe a favor."
Mira rolled the map again. "Whatever history you've got, settle it later. Right now the woods are bleeding people. Focus there."
I nodded.
She offered her hand. Callused, strong grip.
"Don't die out there, Kael. We need people who think before they swing."
I returned the grip. "I'll be back tomorrow night."
Outside, the village moved with quiet industry. Children carried buckets from the well. A blacksmith hammered at the forge, sparks flying. The air smelled of baking bread and woodsmoke.
I went to the common stores: an open shed near the gate stacked with basic tools and supplies. I selected carefully.
Thirty feet of hemp rope, coiled tight.
A claw hammer, head scarred but solid.
A leather pouch of iron nails.
A folded canvas tarp, heavy but waterproof.
A waterskin, stoppered and slung over my shoulder.
Everything fit into a rough burlap sack someone had left hanging on a peg.
Torv met me at the gate, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Heading out already?"
"Tower job."
He grunted. "Good choice. High ground matters." He glanced at my empty belt. "You even got a knife?"
I shook my head.
He sighed, reached to his own belt, and unhooked a short iron blade in a worn leather sheath. Plain hilt, nicked edge, but balanced.
"Loan," he said, handing it over. "Payment after you earn it. Don't die before then."
I strapped it opposite the waterskin. The weight felt right.
"Anything else about the western woods?"
"Old stories say the tower's haunted. Ghosts of watchers who never came down. Probably nonsense. Real danger's the cats and whatever new thing's prowling. Keep fire small at night. Smoke draws eyes."
He clapped my shoulder once, then turned to yell at two teenagers slacking with pitchforks.
The gate creaked open.
Golden light spilled across the western fields, grain waving like an ocean.
I adjusted the sack on my shoulder and stepped through.
Behind me, the gate closed with a solid thud.
Ahead, the path wound between fields before vanishing into dark tree line.
I walked.
The village shrank behind me. Soon only the palisade tips showed above the grain.
Birds wheeled overhead. A breeze carried the scent of turned earth and distant pine.
No text appeared. No new skills announced.
Just me, the road, and the promise of a ruined tower waiting.
One step at a time.
One deed at a time.
The forest edge rose to meet me.
I tightened my grip on the sack strap and kept moving west.
The tower was waiting.
And somewhere deeper in those woods, something else was waiting too.
****
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