Rowe was a little surprised.
My father… the one I've never even met… actually left something for me?
He had no idea what could be in the box.
"Thank you, Auntie."
Carrying the box and key, Rowe returned to his room, barely able to contain his curiosity. He immediately opened the box.
It was clear the container had been sealed for years. Dust clung to its surface, and a musty odor escaped as he cracked it open. Inside were several items: a letter, a stack of coins, a medal, and a smaller, locked box.
At first glance, everything appeared mundane.
He picked up the letter. It was written in awkward, sloppy handwriting, full of smudges and misspellings—clearly the work of a rough, uneducated hand. The content was filled with sentimental phrases, snippets of memory, and heartfelt musings. Despite the attempt at emotion, Rowe felt little connection. The man who had written this… he had never met him. To Rowe, this was just a stranger's farewell.
The pile of coins was impressive. The box was nearly full of golden Asgardian runes—well over several hundred.
To Rowe, who had spent most of his personal funds studying spells and refining his magical abilities, this was a financial revival. The money alone was worth more than any treasure he'd recently come across.
The medal was an ordinary bronze insignia of merit, similar in design to the one he had received for slaying Lord Scrins. But instead of bearing the name Kool, it honored a soldier named Boll—his father. The detailing and inscription varied, but the symbol of valor was unmistakable.
The final item—the small, ornate box—caught Rowe's attention immediately. Delicately crafted and securely locked, it seemed to hold something more precious.
He rummaged through the main container and, tucked into a corner, discovered a small key. It fit the lock perfectly.
Inside, nestled in a velvet lining, was a single piece of silver metal. It was about the length of a finger, broken and jagged at one end—clearly a fragment of something larger, perhaps a weapon.
Rowe furrowed his brow.
What is this?
He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. The metal felt light—lighter even than Asgardian copper—but possessed an undeniable density and resilience.
He hadn't tested it, but his instincts told him clearly: even a focused divine strike might not leave a scratch.
There was something else—a subtle pulse. A vibration or resonance of some ancient, dormant energy echoed from the shard.
Rowe's curiosity peaked. He took out the Sacred Covenant, flipped to the appraisal collection, and placed the metal fragment upon the identification glyph.
[Level 6 item. Donation grants 3912.57 piety.]
"Level Six?" Rowe's eyes widened in shock.
An instant thought raced through his mind.
Could this be Uru? The same indestructible metal used to forge Mjolnir?
The possibility wasn't far-fetched. His father had been a frontline soldier. It was entirely plausible that he'd encountered Uru debris during a battlefield campaign and salvaged a piece.
Even though it was just a sliver, far too small to craft even an arrowhead, its value wasn't diminished in Rowe's eyes.
He immediately turned to the Talent Elixir page in the Sacred Covenant and tested the fragment's compatibility.
[144% Replacement for Orkin.]
Rowe nearly leaped to his feet. The elixir required only a trace of Orkin, and this fragment more than sufficed.
Perfect! he thought, elated.
He had been stressing over where to find Orkin for weeks. And now, not only did he have a viable substitute, but one with a substitution rate that far exceeded expectations.
Five materials remained.
Rowe was in an excellent mood as he carefully stored the relics, then left his quarters and made his way to the Civil Hall within the royal palace of Asgard.
This division oversaw matters related to citizen life—land assignments, business permits, and public housing.
"What's your name?" asked the official behind the desk.
"Rowe Garrison," he replied. "I'm over thirty now, and I'd like to apply for land in Landvety to build a house."
In Asgardian tradition, all land belonged to the King of the Gods. However, adult citizens had the right to claim a parcel for personal residence.
The civil clerk opened a magical topographical map of Landvety—a living projection that shimmered with enchantment. Every building, tree, and terrain gradient was rendered in three dimensions.
"Choose a location."
Although Landvety was considered Asgard's largest town, it wasn't densely populated. Forests dominated the map's display, with rivers winding through the terrain and clusters of houses near the town center.
Just as Rowe remembered, the Brave Hunter Tavern marked the heart of the community. Houses radiated from that spot, thickening in proximity.
He scrutinized the options. Eventually, he chose a modest area—less developed, quiet, but strategically located.
It bordered a tranquil river and, just beyond, the legendary Landvety Forest. It was the training ground for hunters and the birthplace of the famous Hunting Festival.
"This the place?" the officer asked, confirming.
Rowe nodded. "Yes. I'm sure."
The clerk took note and began inscribing formal records.
"Your father was a soldier who fell in combat, and since you've presented a verified medal, construction costs will be waived," he said. "You may also choose an additional lot—free of charge."
"However," he added, "if the two plots aren't adjacent, the free housing benefit will only apply to one."
Rowe quickly decided and selected a neighboring plot to expand his future home.
"Will you be opening a business?" the civil servant asked as he documented the new entries.
"Yes," Rowe said. "A herbal shop."
The man nodded, made the final notations, and handed Rowe a confirmation scroll.
With all formalities complete, a group of skilled craftsmen were summoned to accompany him to Landvety and begin construction.
Once they arrived, Rowe pointed toward an open, elevated meadow—his chosen location. It was nestled between sparse northern homes and the serene southern riverbank. The gentle stream sparkled in the sun, and beyond it loomed the mighty Landvety Forest.
"This is it," Rowe declared, holding the map in hand. "Two stories. I want it facing the forest. Leave half the land undeveloped—I'll be using it as a medicinal garden. The shop will be on the lower floor."
"No problem," said the lead builder.
"How long will it take?"
The man grinned confidently. "We're the finest craftsmen across the Nine Realms. Give us a few days, and you'll be moved in."
Rowe nodded, satisfied.
As the builder turned to assign tasks, he paused and asked, "By the way, what will you name the shop?"
Rowe gazed across the river, at the vast forest teeming with ancient herbs and beast-hunters alike.
"Azeroth Herbal Shop," he said solemnly.
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