It was mid morning the next day when I made my way to the open-air marketplace. The square was lively—dozens of stalls set up with woven baskets, colorful fabrics, smoked fish, and mana-infused vegetables being traded in high spirits. Merchants called out their wares, children darted between carts, and the scent of baked bread mingled with the sharp tang of mana herbs.
I slung my backpack over one shoulder, grinning as I walked toward an empty stall at the square's edge.
Elvie was already there, wiping down the wooden table.
"You really plan on showing them this today?" she asked, raising a brow.
I set the pack down and nodded. "It's time they learnt the next step in food preservation and flavour. They've never had anything like this before."
Elvie grinned. "The dwarfin shopkeeper was very confused when I asked for the grinder. But he gave it willingly."
I chuckled. "He'll understand soon enough."
From under the table, she handed me a bulky object wrapped in linen. I unwrapped it slowly, revealing a shiny, steel hand-crank meat grinder. Several bystanders began to gather, curious.
I turned toward the crowd forming. "Alright, everyone. Gather round."
More villagers and even a few nobles—recognisable by their crested cloaks and finely polished boots—approached with interest. Some of the adventurers from the western gate post leaned in too.
"This," I said, holding up the grinder, "is a tool from my homeland. We call it a meat grinder. It helps break down meat into tiny pieces to make sausages, meatballs, and one of my favourites—chorizo."
"A-choo-ree...what?" one old man repeated, scratching his head.
"Chorizo," I said again, smiling. "A flavourful, spicy sausage made from meat, fat, and spices."
I opened my backpack and took out several pouches filled with powdered and crushed spices—paprika, garlic powder, dried oregano, cumin, pepper, and salt.
Felix arrived then, carrying a basket of plucked bird meat wrapped in leaves. "Caught these in the forest early this morning. Should be good."
"Perfect," I nodded. "Let's begin."
The villagers leaned closer. I washed my hands in a basin and then began to cut the bird meat into chunks, removing skin and bones. As I worked, I explained every step.
"You'll need both lean meat and fat—fat is important. It keeps the sausage moist and gives it that rich flavor."
I fed the pieces into the top of the grinder and turned the crank. The crowd gasped softly as the pink strands of meat pushed out the front into the waiting bowl.
"Now the magic," I said, mixing in the spices with flair. "Garlic powder, for warmth. Paprika, for colour and smoky heat. Salt and pepper, of course, and a pinch of ground chili."
One noble leaned forward, his nostrils flaring. "What... is that aroma? It smells—divine."
"Spices," I said, offering him a small sample. "Imported. These aren't from your lands."
He dabbed some onto his fingertip, tasted it—and his eyes widened. "By the flame... how do I buy this?"
"Wait until you taste the full product," I chuckled.
Once the meat was seasoned, I demonstrated how to stuff it into cleaned intestines from the birds—though I assured them other casings could work too. I tied off several plump sausages and hung a few from the stall beam.
"These need to be dried or smoked to preserve them," I explained. "But for now... We'll grill something fresh."
Kael brought over a small portable grill, already crackling with charcoal flames. I laid the chorizo links down, and the sizzling immediately caught everyone's attention.
The smell was intoxicating.
Children peeked between adult legs, their eyes round. Even the stoic guards from the post drifted over. When the sausages browned and split slightly from the heat, I cut small pieces and handed them out.
The first noble took a bite. His expression shifted from surprise to awe.
"This... This is better than anything I've eaten in the capital."
One of the adventurers grabbed three more pieces. "You could start a war with these."
Laughter rippled through the crowd. Elvie stepped up beside me, handing out more samples. "And this is just the beginning. Imagine: dried meat that lasts weeks without spoiling, portable and packed with flavor."
People rushed forward. Coins clinked as orders poured in.
"I want five pounds of that spice mix!"
"Do you sell the grinder, my lord? I'll pay gold for it!"
"Give me the instructions—I'll make this at home!"
I raised my hand again. "One at a time. Spices and meat grinders will be available starting next week, at affordable prices. This isn't a luxury food. I want everyone—soldiers, workers, families—to be able to preserve meat and enjoy good food."
Felix clapped my shoulder. "You just started a sausage revolution."
The nobles were furiously writing notes, and Elvie handed out parchment copies of the basic recipe and spice ratios.
As the grill smoke curled into the air and people bustled to place orders, I sat back against the stall and watched.
Another step forward. Another earth-born wonder now rooted in this realm. And this time... with the taste of home.
Then came the games.
Elvie organised a tug-of-war contest, pitting farmers against construction workers (with the construction workers winning by a hair).
Ella hosted a bread-eating race, where competitors had to finish massive Earth-style baguettes without using their hands—resulting in a lot of laughter and very full stomachs.
Children raced wooden carts through a small obstacle course set up by Felix's men, who laughed heartily as the kids bumped into haystacks and each other.
Later that afternoon, as the sun dipped low and the lanterns began to glow again, a small ceremony was held at the town centre.
I stepped onto the stage where Elvie handed me a simple wooden sceptre—a "symbol of leadership" made by the village's carpenters.
The villagers clapped and cheered, faces full of pride.
"We are no longer just a gathering of farmers," I said, voice steady. "We are a town—a home."
"And soon," I added, "we will be a name that echoes beyond the mountains."
The crowd erupted into cheers.
Fireworks—I recently bought bright lights—exploded in the sky, painting it with shimmering blues and golds that earned a series of gasps from the people.
Kael and Sylphy both looked up, their usual serious expressions softening for a brief moment.
Even Felix cracked a rare smile as one of the fireworks spelt out "Robinson Territory" across the sky as I received another ding from the system.
I tapped the close and looked around the night sky. The first step had been taken.
But as the fireworks faded into the night and the villagers danced under the stars, I knew—
The real challenges were just beginning.
Because beyond the hills, hidden eyes were already watching, and somewhere among the celebrating visitors...
An enemy wore a friendly face.
As the festival celebrations settled into a steady rhythm—music, laughter, and the smell of sweet pastries filling the air—I took a quiet walk toward the central garden where the two Divine Tree statues stood tall, framed by beds of colourful, carefully tended flowers.
There, I spotted Divina, the village's talented flower gardener, gently pruning a row of golden sunflowers. Beside her, a small boy—her son, no older than eight—was digging carefully in the soft earth with a small wooden spade.
Divina saw me approaching and quickly rose to her feet, brushing dirt from her apron. "My lord," she said, bowing deeply. "You honour us with your visit."
I smiled and waved her formalities away. "No need for that, Divina. You're doing excellent work here."
The little boy looked up, his eyes wide with awe. I crouched down to his level.
"And what's your name, young gardener?"
"F-Finn, sir!" he stammered, clutching his tiny spade like a knight might hold a sword.
"Finn, huh? Looks like you have good hands for the earth."
He beamed, chest puffing with pride. I stood and motioned to the space between the two Divine Tree statues, where a small sapling—a strange, silver-green plant—was beginning to grow. "I wanted to tell you both," I said, voice lower so only they could hear, "that what I planted there a few weeks ago... is not just any tree."
Divina leaned closer, curiosity shining in her eyes.
"It's called the Fruit of Eternity," I continued. "A rare gift from the real Divine Tree I saw in the forbidden forest. When it matures, it will bear fruit that can heal almost any wound... and even slow ageing."
Divina gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth.
"And you, Finn," I added, looking at the boy, "will be one of the first to help care for it. It will need gentle hands, someone who treats plants like family."
The boy's eyes went as round as saucers. "I-I will!" he said fiercely. "I'll protect it!"
Divina knelt beside him, tears brimming in her eyes. "My lord," she whispered, "thank you for trusting us."
I rested a hand on her shoulder, solemn. "It's not just trust. It's faith. You are the chosen one, the divine tree chooses you to be its guardian. You and Finn... are planting the future of this town."
"Thank you, my lord."
"Come here," I said and smiled.