The tavern was only a five-minute walk from the chapel, yet the short trip felt oddly long. All the while, I could sense the weight of countless eyes following me. Women in aprons paused their sweeping; farmers leaned on fences to watch me pass.
Their gazes weren't hostile, exactly, just curious, intense, and a little too focused. I supposed that being a man here would mean living with that kind of attention every single day. I'd have to get used to it sooner or later.
The tavern itself could have been plucked straight from a medieval drama back on Earth. A two-story stone-and-timber building, sturdy and welcoming, with a shingled roof and a wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze. The sign bore the image of a frothy tankard with a small engraved cowbell underneath it, "The Cowbell Tavern," I guessed.
Tuly, my escort, stepped ahead and pulled it open, holding it for me with a respectful nod. It was a small gesture, but it reminded me that chivalry worked differently here. In this world, holding the door open for a man was a polite courtesy from woman to man, a reversal of my old world's customs. Strange, but charming in its own way.
The warm air inside hit me instantly, thick with the scent of roasted meat, ale, and firewood. The floor was paved with uneven stone, and the hall was filled with sturdy wooden tables and mismatched chairs, many of them empty
Only a few patrons occupied the corners: two older women chatting quietly over stew, and a girl in travel clothes asleep by the hearth.
The fire roared in a great stone hearth on the side wall, its heat driving away the chill from outside. Opposite the fire stood the tavern bar, polished smooth from years of use.
When my gaze drifted towards the bar, my breath caught in my throat.
The woman behind the counter stood out like a painting come to life. A pair of curling black horns framed her long silver-white hair, which cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves that glowed gold under the firelight.
Her skin was warm, sun-kissed, her eyes a deep amber that gleamed with something between mischief and curiosity.
She wore a snug corset-style bodice of dark leather, laced tight to emphasize her figure, the kind of confident shape that made it impossible not to look twice. Her skirt brushed the tops of her thighs, layered with soft fabric and belts that jingled faintly as she moved.
Around her neck hung a pendant set with a sky-blue gem that caught the flicker of the fire each time she turned.
And, yes, her chest was… impressive. I couldn't help but recall the race options from the goddess's dropdown menu. Cowkin. It all made perfect sense now.
Her lips curled into a teasing smile the instant she noticed me. "Well, well," she said, her voice smooth and sultry, "you must be the visitor Cecil was gossiping about. Word travels fast in Stonesworth."
I blinked and tried to collect myself. "Ah, yes. My name's Abel. Nice to meet you."
She leaned on the bar, resting her chin in her hand. "Mirabelle," she said with a wink. "But you can call me Belle."
Before I could respond, Tuly stepped forward and set a small pouch on the counter. The distinct clink of coins rang out. "Room and board for two weeks," she said firmly. "In your nicest room, please. The church will cover all expenses. Take good care of him."
Belle grinned, eyes glinting with amusement. "Of course I will. Mama's not feeling well, so the tavern's in my care for now. Leave everything to me." Then she turned that same grin on me. "Let's get you settled, handsome. I'll bring you a hot meal once you're comfortable."
Tuly nodded, satisfied, and excused herself. As she left, I thought I saw her glance back and smirk, perhaps she knew exactly what kind of woman she was leaving me with.
Belle led me up a creaking wooden staircase to a room at the end of the hall. The door opened to a simple but cozy space: a broad bed layered with soft quilts, a washstand, a small table, and a lantern burning gently by the window. The scent of old wood and lavender soap hung faintly in the air.
"This'll be your room," Belle said cheerfully. "I'll fetch some food and hot water. You look like you could use both."
When she returned about an hour later, she carried a tray with a steaming meal, stew, bread, and ale, and a bucket of hot water for washing.
"I'll leave you for the night," she said with a mischievous smile, setting everything down neatly. "But if you need anything, and I mean anything, just call for me. I'm right down the hall."
She even spelled it out, dragging the word into a playful singsong. "A-ny-th-ing."
I froze mid-motion, my mind momentarily blank. Was she serious? Or was this just how people flirted in this world? Either way, her teasing tone and that glint in her amber eyes were enough to send my thoughts scattering. I managed to thank her, though my voice cracked slightly.
She giggled on her way out, closing the door behind her.
Despite my racing thoughts, exhaustion caught up with me the moment I finished eating. I washed, stretched out on the bed, and drifted into the most peaceful sleep I'd had in years.
Morning sunlight filtered through the window when I awoke. My body felt refreshed, the aches of travel gone. When I made my way downstairs, Belle was already at work, moving gracefully between tables with a tray balanced in one hand. She greeted me with a bright smile and placed a bowl of steaming porridge and scrambled eggs in front of me.
"Morning, Abel," she said warmly. "Sleep well?"
"Like a baby," I admitted.
"Good. Eat up, gonna need your strength if the priestess has plans for you today."
As I ate, the door burst open and a familiar voice rang through the room.
"Abel!"
Cecil bounded over like an overexcited puppy. The young guard looked every bit as bright and lively as she had yesterday, her blond hair pulled into a short braid.
"Good morning!" she said, grinning. "How was your first night? Did you like the village?"
I swallowed my mouthful and smiled. "Morning, Cecil. Yeah, I slept great. Feeling good. What about you?"
"I've been assigned as your personal guard while you're here!" she said proudly, puffing out her chest.
"Personal guard? Do I really need one?"
"The mayor said you do," she replied, still cheerful but with a firmness that told me not to argue. Beneath the cute exterior, I could tell she wasn't someone to underestimate.
Before we left, Belle leaned across the bar and winked. "Don't stay out too late, handsome," she said in a low, teasing voice. "Dinner tonight will be special, just for you."
Cecil raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing. I thanked Belle and followed Cecil out into the morning sunlight.
As we walked, I recalled what I'd read from the priestess's book the night before 'An Earthling's Guide to Lothrien.' One section, in particular, had caught my eye:
"Women in this world tend to be forthright in their affections. A woman may invite a man to share her company for an evening without expectation of courtship or exclusivity. Gentle refusal is accepted; cruelty or arrogance is not."
The idea still felt surreal, but at least it explained Belle's behavior.
Cecil chattered as we made our way to the chapel, her tone bright and full of energy. Behind the church stood a large wooden shed, its doors flung open. Inside, Priestess Claire was waiting, now dressed in simpler, everyday robes.
"Good morning, Abel," she said kindly. "Are you ready to start experimenting?"
"Absolutely," I said, grinning. "I'm excited to see what I can do."
We stepped inside. The space smelled faintly of sawdust and oil. Claire explained that most natives with skill systems received standardized training, but reincarnators like me had unique systems, no two the same. That meant experimentation and intuition were the best way forward.
I described everything I'd learned so far: collecting items, crafting, storage, and the crafting interface itself.
"Excellent," Claire said. "Then let's begin. Summon your craftbench."
When I imagined bringing it out, a translucent ghost image appeared in front of me;like a blueprint waiting for confirmation. I could mentally rotate it, move it, and set it down exactly where I wanted.
I positioned it neatly against the shed's wall and confirmed. With a faint shimmer, the ghost solidified into wood and metal. My very first workstation.