Ch6: Arrival and a new trade.

It had been a week since Archeas departed from Crolas, and the journey had been surprisingly smooth. The caravan rolled steadily over the dusty roads, passing through small villages and vast stretches of countryside. Archeas found the change of scenery refreshing, a stark contrast to the narrow, grimy streets of the city he had left behind.

The other travelers in the caravan were curious about the young boy traveling alone. On the first night, around the campfire, one of the merchants, a middle-aged woman named Elara, finally voiced the question that had been on everyone's mind.

"So, lad," she said, poking the fire with a stick, "what's a twelve-year-old doing traveling all by himself? You got family waiting for you somewhere?"

Archeas looked up from his bowl of stew, feeling the weight of their gazes. He had prepared for this, knowing he couldn't tell them the full truth about his magical artifacts or the incident in Crolas.

"I'm looking for work," he said, keeping his tone casual. "Crolas wasn't good for me anymore. Figured I'd try my luck in a new place."

"A brave thing to do at your age," remarked another traveler, a blacksmith named Thorne. "Takes guts to leave everything behind and start anew."

"Yeah," Archeas replied, shrugging. "Just had to do it. Sometimes you have to take risks, right?"

The others nodded, seemingly satisfied with his explanation. As the days passed, Archeas found himself settling into the rhythm of travel. He helped with chores around the camp, fetched water, and even shared some stories from his life in the city, carefully omitting the more dangerous details.

One evening, as they were nearing their next destination, Elara sat down next to Archeas while he was polishing his shoes.

"You know," she said softly, "if you ever need help or guidance, don't hesitate to ask. Traveling alone can be hard, especially for someone so young."

"Thank you," Archeas replied, feeling a genuine warmth in her words. "I'll keep that in mind."

As the caravan continued its journey, Archeas couldn't help but feel a growing sense of anticipation. He was heading toward the unknown, driven by the secrets he carried and the promise of discovering more about his magical abilities. The ring on his finger seemed to hum with a quiet energy, a constant reminder of the power and mystery that lay within him.

"One week down," he thought, looking out at the horizon. "Who knows what the next will bring?"

With each passing day, Archeas felt more confident in his decision to leave Crolas. The world was vast and full of possibilities, and he was ready to face whatever came his way.

After three more days on the road, the caravan finally reached the city of Inca. As they approached, Archeas marveled at the city's towering stone walls and bustling gates, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling within him.

"Well, here we are," the driver said, bringing the caravan to a halt. "Best of luck to you, lad. Hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thank you," Archeas replied, disembarking with his bag slung over his shoulder. He gave a final wave to the travelers he had grown somewhat accustomed to over the past week and stepped into the lively streets of Inca.

His first priority was finding a place to stay. After wandering through the crowded marketplace and down a few narrow alleys, he found a rundown inn with a sign that read "The Weary Traveler." It looked like the cheapest lodging available, which suited his limited budget.

"One room, please," Archeas said to the innkeeper, a grizzled old man with a wary look in his eye.

"How long you stayin'?" the innkeeper asked, sizing him up.

"Not sure yet," Archeas replied, handing over a small handful of brass coins. "Just need a place to rest for now."

The innkeeper nodded and handed him a key. "Room's upstairs, third on the left. Don't cause any trouble."

"Thank you," Archeas said, heading up the creaky stairs. His room was small and sparsely furnished, with a lumpy bed and a single window overlooking a narrow alley. It wasn't much, but it was a place to rest his head.

After locking the door behind him, Archeas dropped his bag on the floor and sank onto the bed. The journey had taken its toll, and the prospect of finding a job in a new city was daunting.

"First thing tomorrow," he thought, "I'll start looking for work. Maybe a tavern or a shop could use an extra hand."

He lay back, staring at the cracked ceiling. The ring on his finger felt heavier than usual, a reminder of the secrets he still carried. But for now, all he wanted was sleep.

As he closed his eyes, the sounds of the city outside faded into a distant murmur.

The next day, Archeas awoke to the faint light of dawn seeping through the grimy window of his room. He stretched, feeling the ache in his muscles from the long journey, and quickly got dressed. Today was the day he needed to find a job that could sustain him and provide skills useful for his future travels.

Archeas stepped out into the bustling streets of Inca, the city's morning energy pulsing around him. He decided to head towards the marketplace first, where vendors were already setting up their stalls and shopkeepers were preparing for the day's business.

"Let's see," he muttered to himself, scanning the various establishments. "A tavern, a smithy, maybe even a merchant who needs an extra hand."

His eyes caught sight of a blacksmith's forge, the heat from the furnace visible even from a distance. The blacksmith, a burly man with a soot-streaked face, was hammering away at a piece of glowing metal. Archeas approached cautiously.

"Excuse me, sir," he called out, trying to sound confident. "Are you looking for an apprentice or any extra help?"

The blacksmith paused, wiping sweat from his brow. He looked Archeas up and down, assessing him. "You ever worked a forge before, lad?"

"No, sir," Archeas admitted. "But I'm strong and a quick learner. I need work and I'm willing to put in the effort."

The blacksmith grunted. "Hmm. I could use an extra pair of hands, but this is hard work. Not many stick around. You willing to get your hands dirty and learn the trade?"

Archeas nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir. I want to learn skills that will help me in the future. I won't let you down."

"Alright, then," the blacksmith said, handing him a leather apron and gloves. "Name's Harlan. You start today. Let's see what you're made of."

Archeas spent the day at the forge, his muscles straining as he worked the bellows, carried heavy iron, and watched Harlan closely, learning the basics of blacksmithing. The heat was intense, and the work was grueling, but Archeas felt a sense of satisfaction he hadn't known before.

As the sun began to set, Harlan patted him on the back. "Not bad for your first day, lad. You keep this up, you might just make a decent smith someday. Come back tomorrow and we'll continue."

"Thank you, Harlan," Archeas said, wiping the sweat from his face. "I'll be here."

Exhausted but content, Archeas made his way back to The Weary Traveler. His body ached from the day's labor, but his mind was buzzing with new knowledge and a sense of purpose.

"Blacksmithing," he thought as he climbed into bed. "Not what I expected, but it's a skill that can take me places."

With a job secured and a new skill to learn, Archeas felt a renewed sense of hope. The city of Inca was starting to feel a little more like home, and he was one step closer to uncovering the mysteries of his past and charting the course for his future.