After the awkward incident with the window, Sean knew he couldn't practice Water Bolt in town—better to wait until hunting on the Elven Forest's outskirts. For now, he focused on the meditation techniques Kyle had taught him.
…
Through their late-night discussion, Sean realized Kyle's methods were far more advanced than the basic mage guild meditations he'd learned. Whether these were from Azeroth's blood elves or the System's creation didn't matter—they worked. Kyle's instructions were patient, breaking down complex elemental synchronization into manageable steps. By dawn, Sean had mastered the basics.The Power of Advanced MeditationOld Rate: 10 EXP per hour (19 hours for 190 EXP)New Rate: 30 EXP per hour (61 hours for 1,830 EXP)—a 3x increase!
Even better, this efficiency would grow with practice. The downside? Mental exhaustion. After two hours of intense focus, Sean collapsed into bed, dreaming of swirling water and fire elements.
…
He woke to sunlight filtering through his window, the date now April 22nd, 1760 Light's Calendar—ten days since leaving Yorn. Kyle still slept at his desk, head pillowed on spellbooks. Sean draped his coat over her and slipped out, leaving the blood elf mage to her dreams of arcane equations.Morning in RiversideBreakfast was cold but familiar: omelet, bread, milk, salmon. Butler Henry arrived with updates:
Townsfolk settled, but empty houses remained.Farmland weeds burned—planting could start today.
Sean interrupted, "How long for wheat to sprout?"
"Seven days, My Lord, given the weather."
"Perfect. Tell Anduin to collect animal and human waste, dry it downwind of town."
Henry frowned. "Waste? It's filthy—no one will do that."
Sean smiled mysteriously. "Remember the Light's 'divine farming revelation'? This is it. Waste is the fertilizer the Light showed me. Pay the townsfolk well and call it a holy duty—they'll line up."
Henry bowed, skepticism hidden. If the Light wills it, even dung is sacred.The Mill and the CraftsmenAt the mill, shouting echoed—shoemaker Jamie was scolding two slum children:
"By the Light! This leather is worse than Mrs. Mary's knitting! I ought to tan your hides instead!"
Carpenter Paul laughed, "Go easy, Jamie. They're beginners."
Jamie sighed, "Wish I had my apprentices here."
Paul shrugged, "Be grateful for help. These kids hauled half the wood for my still."
Before Jamie could retort, Sean entered. All froze, then bowed:
"Lord Sean!"Progress ReportDistiller: Paul's still neared completion, bamboo condenser already installed. "Test run by noon, My Lord."Shoes: Jamie displayed a prototype high-heeled boot, monster hide polished to a shine. "First pair ready by tomorrow, but the kids need more training."
Sean clapped the craftsmen on the back. "Excellent work. Remember—these are'divine designs'from my vision. Any flaws? Blame the Light's mysterious ways."
Jamie snorted, though a grin tugged at his lips. Divine or not, the nobles will pay a fortune for these.
…
As Sean inspected the still, Kyle wandered in, his coat still draped over her shoulders. She raised an eyebrow at the chaotic workshop but said nothing—some mysteries, like the "holy dung collection," were better left unasked.
In Riverside, she thought, even manure becomes a miracle when the Light wills it.