Claire led me through the chapel's heavy wooden doors. The scent of incense and old wood hit me immediately, warm and strangely comforting.
The interior reminded me of churches from my world, narrow central aisle, long wooden pews on either side, tall arched windows of stained glass filtering sunlight into soft, multicolored hues.
At the far end stood a cracked marble statue of the goddess. Despite its age, someone had clearly tried to keep it clean; fresh flowers rested at its feet, and faint lines of polish glimmered on the stone.
The guard, the mayor, and the priestess guided me through a side door into a smaller chamber. Inside waited a circular table and four mismatched chairs, the kind that looked like they'd been repaired many times. Still, the space felt lived in, not neglected.
We each took a seat. The mayor, Chrone, poured water from a clay jug into a cup and slid it toward me with a surprisingly steady hand for her age.
Claire folded her hands in her lap and gave me an encouraging smile. "So," she began softly, "you're a reincarnator from another world. Which world would that be?"
"Earth," I said, taking a sip of the cool water. "I heard someone from Earth passed through here not long ago, cleared out some goblins for the village, right?"
Claire nodded. "Yes. They helped immensely by hunting a goblin nest nearby." Her tone was respectful, almost reverent. "What type of skill system did you choose from the goddess?"
"I actually chose my system before meeting her," I explained, "but it came from her regardless. I went with production skills."
Her entire expression brightened. She clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling. "Really? A producer! That's wonderful, such a rarity these days!"
I blinked. "A rarity? Why's that?"
"Well," she said, leaning forward slightly, "almost every reincarnator we've recorded over the last three hundred years chose combat-oriented systems. Production types are almost unheard of."
"I can imagine why," I admitted with a small laugh. "The goddess told me all reincarnators in this world are men. Back on Earth, most young guys dream of being heroes, warriors, or adventurers. Not many want to be a merchant or craftsman."
Claire smiled knowingly. "That's exactly what our scholars suspect as well. Men born in this world rarely choose such paths, either. They're... protected, cherished. Combat isn't encouraged for them."
That made sense. If men were as scarce as the goddess said, they'd be treated more like national treasures than soldiers. Still, the thought of being coddled for the rest of my life didn't sit well with me.
Chrone watched me with quiet interest. "You've only just arrived, yes? How much do you know about your abilities so far?"
"Not much yet, but I've tested a few things." I reached into the air, focusing on a memory, and willed one of my sticks and five stones onto the table. They shimmered into existence with a soft flash of blue light.
"First off, I have a kind of magic storage space. I can collect and store items without physically touching them." I waved a hand, and the materials vanished again.
Neither the mayor nor the guard seemed overly surprised; perhaps they'd seen enough reincarnators to be accustomed to miracles, but Claire's eyes gleamed with childlike fascination.
"Incredible," she murmured. "That's spatial manipulation at a high level. And you say you can craft with it, too?"
I nodded and placed my low-durability stone axe on the table. "Yeah. I can combine gathered materials into usable tools. This was made from those stones."
Claire picked it up carefully, examining the polished surface of the stone blade. "This looks forged… yet it's just stone. How peculiar!" She knocked her knuckles against the side with a dull thunk, then set it down gently. "Fascinating. It seems functional too."
Her excitement was infectious, and I couldn't help smiling. "It's simple stuff for now, but maybe I can create more advanced items later."
The mayor cleared her throat softly, signaling the end of the demonstration. "Claire, could you summarize your findings for me?"
I frowned. "Didn't you hear everything? You've been sitting right here."
Chrone's lips curved into a faint smile. "I was listening, but Claire switched between several languages while speaking to you. You wouldn't have noticed, of course. Reincarnaters arrive here being able to understand every language after all."
My eyes widened. "Wait, she was testing me?"
Claire gave me an apologetic shrug. "A small precaution. Not all men in this world are kind. Some use their rarity to exploit or deceive others. We've even had cases of criminals pretending to be reincarnators to trick the church."
I nodded slowly. "Fair enough. I guess I shouldn't assume every guy here's living an easy life."
"Exactly," said Chrone. "Many are treated well, yes, but some abuse that privilege. So we make certain of who we're helping."
Her words carried quiet authority, and for a brief moment, I felt a flicker of respect for the elderly woman.
Claire's expression softened again. "Now that everything's confirmed, it's the church's responsibility to help you settle in. You may stay at the local inn free of charge for the next two weeks."
She rummaged through a leather satchel, pulling out a stack of worn books. After a moment of flipping through titles, she handed one to me. The cover read An Earthling's Guide to Lothrien.
"This contains basic information about the world, common customs, and an introduction to currency and trade systems," she explained. "Since there's no representative from the Reincarnator Support Association in Stonesworth, the church handles their duties here."
"So if I'd started in a city, they'd have someone official to help me?"
"Precisely," Claire said with a nod. "But don't worry, we've guided several reincarnators before. You'll be fine."
I smiled. "I appreciate that. How much does the inn usually charge, though? I don't want to impose."
"Not at all," she said kindly. "The church has a dedicated fund for this purpose. Most of that funding actually comes from reincarnators who prospered and decided to give back."
"That's… pretty cool, actually."
"Before the organization was formed," she continued, "things were more chaotic. Most arrivals were taken in and cared for quickly, but a few were misunderstood or accused of witchcraft when their abilities manifested. People fear what they don't understand."
I nodded thoughtfully. "That tracks with human nature, no matter the world."
Claire rose from her chair, her robes swaying lightly. "If your skills are production-based, we can test them further tomorrow. There's a large storage shed behind the chapel. We'll see what you can create there."
"Sounds like a plan," I said, standing as well.
She smiled, and for a moment, her beauty was almost divine. "For now, rest. Tuly will escort you to the inn. It's nearly sundown, and you must be tired after your journey."
"Thank you again, Priestess."
Claire inclined her head gracefully. "Welcome to Lothrien, Abel. May your second life be brighter than your first."
With that, the elderly mayor shuffled out, and I followed Tuly the guardwoman out into the fading golden light of evening.
As we walked down the cobblestone street, the village glowed under the setting sun. The smell of cooking drifted from open windows, laughter echoed from distant homes, and I felt something stir in my chest.