Chương 339: B5—Chapter 59: Legacies of Stone, Magic and Knowledge

Morning light cast long shadows over the keep—no, New Sanctuary. The new name still felt unfamiliar, but I had to get used to it. Descending in a quiet courtyard, I turned visible hidden by a stone archway. The place bustled with movement, workers reinforcing walls and couriers hurrying between buildings. I went searching for Roda's office, weaving through the crowd. It took ten minutes and a few wrong turns, but eventually, I found her.

The moment I stepped inside, Roda lit up, her face breaking into a radiant smile. Before I could say a word, she wrapped me in a warm hug, squeezing tight. That was nice.

"I'm glad you're back." She pulled away, her hands lingering on my arms.

"I must admit, I was getting worried when it took so long."

"I had to travel far," I said, keeping it vague. Her brows knitted together.

"How did you travel? Nobody saw you leave or return."

"You saw me turn invisible." She nodded but didn't drop it.

"Right. But how did you travel?" A pause. Then, her expression shifted, concern creeping in.

"Sorry for prying. I know the three of you have a lot of secrets." I gave her a small nod, accepting the apology without elaborating. The silence stretched between us, teetering on the edge of awkward. To break it, I placed a sturdy wooden box on her desk.

"More building spells," I said.

"Some you already know, and a few new ones." Her fingers traced the lid, eyes flicking to me with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude. Mahya, Al, and I had deliberated long over how many spells to give her. Ultimately, we decided to hold back two-thirds—just in case. We didn't know who or what we might encounter in other places, and I made it clear: my recent shopping spree had been a one-time deal. I pulled out another box and set it beside the first with a solid thunk.

"This one has a variety of spells that aren't building-related," I said, tapping the lid.

"Ten Telepathy scrolls—I recommend using one yourself and saving the rest for close advisors. Some—" Roda cut me off with a sharp shake of her head.

"Mahya had already given me Telepathy so that I could talk with Rue. Take one scroll back." I waved her off.

"It's fine. Consider it a spare for another advisor." Flipping open the box, I let her see the neatly arranged scrolls inside.

"There are some low-tier healing and diagnosis spells, but don't give them to anyone aiming for the Healer class—using them will block their ability to get it. Save them for guards or anyone who might need them in an emergency. You'll know who to give them to." I pulled out two scrolls and set them on the desk.

"There are also some basic combat spells— Mana Bolt and Mana Shield —and two important ones: Clean and Purify. I'll make metal purification balls for water, so don't waste these spells on that yet. Hold on to them until they're truly needed." I gestured toward the rest of the scrolls.

"There are also a few spells for handling fabrics—you'll figure out what to do with them." As I spoke, I noticed her hands trembling slightly. Her lips parted, but no words came. Then, tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over her cheeks. She sucked in a shaky breath, then suddenly stepped forward, wrapping me in a tight hug.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"I don't know what else to say." I patted her back, giving her a moment.

"You're welcome. I brought a lot of other things too, but I'll wait before telling you about them. There's no need to overwhelm you all at once." She pushed back slightly, arms still gripping my sleeves, her expression twisting. Her gaze darted to the boxes, then back to me. Happiness flickered across her face before hesitation took its place, then anger, then something deeper—conflict, raw and unsettled. I could feel the internal war waging inside her, a battle between pride and necessity.

Finally, she exhaled sharply and straightened.

"I can't take any more from you," she said, her voice firm but uneven.

"You've already given us too much. It makes me angry that we even need this help. There's a limit to how much I can accept from you." Her fists clenched at her sides before she forced them open again.

"I hate taking charity from anyone. But…" Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard.

"I know we need the help. So, I'll take the spells—but that's it."

"It's not charity." I leaned forward slightly, holding her gaze.

"Did you know about the safes below Almatai Castle?" I paused, then corrected myself.

"That used to be below Almatai Castle?" Roda's eyes narrowed with recognition.

"Yes. My husband used to keep his gold and other valuables there. I was never inside personally, but I knew about them." I nodded.

"We found those safes. I used the money stored there to buy everything I brought back—and trust me, I brought a lot. Household goods, tools for different trades, an interesting plant with some very useful properties, and a whole assortment of enchanted items." I gestured toward the boxes stacked on her desk.

"But I need you to understand something—it's not charity. That money? It was yours, or at least, it used to be. My help isn't giving you material things. It's in getting them. With my invisibility, I can travel safer and faster than anyone else. That's it. So stop worrying about pride, charity, and all that bullshit. Everything I brought back belongs to you by right—I just provided the delivery service." I leaned back, giving her a moment to take it all in.

Her expression shifted, the storm in her eyes easing as understanding settled in. Bit by bit, the tension melted away, replaced by something lighter. Her smile started small, hesitant—then it grew, bright and unguarded. The tears still clinging to her lashes caught the light, but this time, they weren't from frustration or sorrow. They were relief and gratitude. I could feel it. I nodded.

"Now, I know you're the big boss around here, but I don't think you need to personally go through everything I brought and assign it all yourself. That would take days, and I'm pretty sure you have more important things to deal with. So just tell me where to put the mundane supplies—the everyday stuff—so whoever's in charge can handle distribution. As for the enchanted items, they're more valuable. The person handling them will need the Identify skill to know what they do, so tell me where those should go, too."

I leaned against the desk, arms crossed.

"And, as I said, I brought an interesting plant. It's used to make stuffing for soft furniture, mattresses, and blankets, but it also has a medical application. Al knows more about that. I'll need to speak with whoever's in charge of agriculture to go over what I've figured out so far. Mind you, I don't know everything—a lot of it is based on observation. You'll need to experiment a bit to get the full picture." She shook her head, a soft laugh escaping as she wiped at the lingering tears.

"I don't know what else to say except thank you." I waved her off again.

"You don't need to say anything else." Pushing off the desk, I gave her an expectant look.

"Now, tell me—how's everything going? And how did you manage to make such insane progress so fast?" Roda exhaled, shaking her head as she gestured for me to follow her.

"Come on, I'll show you." We stepped out onto the balcony of her office, overlooking the sprawling settlement below. The warm breeze carried the scent of freshly tilled earth and sawdust, mixing with the distant sounds of construction—hammering, shouting, the rhythmic creak of wooden scaffolding shifting under workers' feet. From this height, the sheer scale of it all was impossible to ignore. The keep, the new walls, the expanding fields—New Sanctuary was no longer just an outpost. It was a city in the making.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Roda leaned against the railing, her eyes bright with pride.

"I don't even know where to start." She let out a breathless laugh.

"The building spells you gave us turned the hands of fate. You have no idea how much they helped. What should've taken months, we finished in weeks." She shook her head in disbelief.

"Once people saw how fast things went up, they wanted to work harder. It was like watching a miracle unfold in real time." I smiled.

"Glad to hear they worked as advertised.""'Worked' is an understatement." She waved a hand at the rows of houses climbing the hillside.

"Foundations, walls, reinforcement—every major structure in New Sanctuary owes its speed to those spells. Even the animal pens went up practically overnight." She snapped her fingers for emphasis.

"I still can't believe it sometimes." She was quiet for a minute, then laughed.

"Mahya decided sleep was optional. She just kept pushing. Whenever she wasn't ferrying people, she worked on those platforms." She pointed toward the scaffolding lining the walls, wisps of mana swirling faintly around them.

"You have to see them up close. The runes—John, it's not just a wind shield. It slows projectiles instead of stopping them completely. It's brilliant." I raised a brow.

"I checked one out earlier. Took me a while to piece together the runes, but yeah… that's next-level work." Roda scoffed.

"Next-level? The first time someone tested it, they shot an arrow at the platform, and instead of bouncing off, it just… slowed." She mimed an arrow drifting sluggishly through the air.

"It lost momentum and dropped like a dead leaf on the platform for our guards to use. Works on thrown weapons too." I whistled.

"Yeah, that sounds like her." She shook her head, a fond smile creeping onto her face.

"And then there's Rue." That got my attention.

"What about Rue?"

"That dog is fearless. When those Almadris thugs showed up demanding gold, nobody wanted a fight." She shook her head, a mix of exasperation and pride in her voice.

"He didn't hesitate. The moment they tried something, he was on them. They never stood a chance." A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"Yeah, that sounds like him. He's a protector at heart." She sighed, tapping her fingers against the railing.

"He got shot, and instead of retreating, he still drove them off before even thinking about getting help. It's one thing to be brave when you choose a fight, but to take a hit and still protect everyone? That's something else." I nodded, warmth settling in my chest.

"Yeah. He's something else, alright." She smirked.

"You know he's got half the settlement convinced he's some guardian spirit now?" I laughed.

"He would." Her smile lingered, full of genuine admiration.

"He deserves every bit of it." We talked for hours, slipping from one story to the next. She shared anecdotes, proudly recounted every advancement, and praised Mahya and Al at every turn. More than once, she thanked me—not just for the help but for convincing her to move, for Rima, and for my friendship. In return, I told her about everything I'd brought back, and explained the uses of tiftaf in detail. The conversation flowed easily, full of laughter and shared excitement. It was… fun.

In the late afternoon, I went looking for Rima. The keep had expanded so much that it was practically a maze, its recent additions sprawling across the entire hill. Every new building had replaced an old warehouse, production hall, or distribution center, and roofed walkways linked all of them. From above, they all blended into the structures like an intricate puzzle of smaller buildings. When I finally stepped into the new clinic, I couldn't help but be impressed.

The waiting room was spacious, with clusters of chairs arranged around small tables, making the space feel more like a gathering area than a place for the sick. The chairs and tables were crude, obviously handmade, but somehow, it added to the charm. Flowers stood on the tables, their sweet scent filling the room. Against the far wall, a counter held neatly arranged jerky, fruits, and water—practical. A woman sat near the entrance, wringing her hands, her expression tense with worry.

Before I could approach, a door at the back of the room swung open, and Rima emerged, a small, energetic kid in tow. He grinned widely, missing his two front teeth, and bounced on his heels before dashing to his mother. He thrust his hand out proudly.

"I told you it's all right!" he declared, his voice brimming with triumph. Rima rushed toward me and crushed me in a hug, squeezing tight enough to make my ribs protest.

"Why did it take you so long to come back?" she demanded, her voice half muffled against my shoulder. I hugged her back, patting her shoulder.

"I had a lot of things to buy." She pulled back just enough to glare at me—then punched my shoulder, hard enough that I felt it.

"I was worried." Rubbing my arm, I gave her a sheepish grin.

"Yeah, I got that." Her expression softened, her eyes sweeping over me as if she were checking for injuries. Then, just as quickly, she brightened.

"I'm happy you're back." A pause, then her lips twitched with amusement.

"And I have so many questions. But before I throw them all at you, tell me about your trip." I spent the rest of the day with Rima, swapping between telling her an edited and carefully adapted version of my shopping trip—leaving out anything about other worlds, of course—and answering a steady stream of medical questions. She listened intently, occasionally pausing to press for details, her expression shifting between fascination and thoughtful analysis.

Every so often, she scribbled something in a worn notebook, nodding to herself before launching into another round of questions. I remembered the shy and uncertain woman I'd met and couldn't reconcile the two. She was confident, self-assured, and bursting with questions. Somewhere along the way, food appeared, though I barely remembered eating between all the talking. By the time the sky deepened into dusk, my voice was hoarse, but Rima looked like she could keep going all night.

For the next week, I familiarized myself with every corner of the keep's new structures. Roda assigned me a helper—an efficient, no-nonsense type who led me from one building to the next, ensuring everything I brought back ended up where it belonged. Surprisingly, it had taken me less time to buy everything than to distribute it all properly. Every afternoon, I had lunch with Rima, which mostly meant sitting through an interrogation disguised as a meal.

Her curiosity knew no bounds—over lunch, when I visited the clinic, and even in the midst of casual conversations, she fired off questions with the intensity of someone trying to unravel the secrets of the universe. Some were so naïve that they had me choking on my food, while others were sharp enough to make me stop and think.

"If people die from not drinking water, why don't they just drink their own pee?" she asked one afternoon, completely serious. I nearly spit out my coffee.

"Because it's what your body has already eliminated. You'd just dehydrate faster." She hummed thoughtfully, tapping the end of her pen against her chin, then hit me with another question before I could relax.

"If someone loses too much blood, why can't we simply give them more from someone else?" I shifted, adjusting my position.

"We can—but only if it's the right type. Otherwise, their body will treat it like poison." She blinked, the crease between her brows deepening.

"So if we don't know the types… blood is basically useless?" I let out a slow breath.

"Pretty much." Her eyes narrowed, lips pursed in concentration.

"How do we know which type to give?" I rubbed my chin, already running through possibilities in my head.

"I'll have to think about how to make something to determine that. Remind me if I forget." Sometimes she asked things that seemed obvious to me, but clearly weren't to her.

"If your heart stops, why can't someone just squeeze your chest like a pump?"

"That's actually kind of what CPR is," I admitted, rubbing my jaw.

"Just with a little more finesse. You press on the chest, as I taught you—it just has to be accompanied by a few other things." But then she'd blindside me with something that made my brain shift gears entirely.

"If mana can speed up healing, could it also speed up sickness?" I actually stopped eating at that one, fork halfway to my mouth.

"…I don't know. But it makes sense that it could."

"How?" I shook my head.

"No clue. I've never tried." She hummed quietly to herself, eyes distant.

"That would be an interesting experiment." And then, in the very next breath—"If people don't feel pain when they're in shock, could we do surgery without making them sleep?" I grimaced.

"In theory, yes. In reality, they'd still probably die from the shock." The following day.

"If the body keeps making new skin, why do scars last forever?"

"Because scar tissue is a patch job, not a full repair." In the middle of a conversation about the progress of Sanctuary.

"If emotions affect health, could treating someone's grief make their sickness go away?"

"Not go away, but it would make them stronger—mentally and physically." Sometimes, her questions had simple answers. Other times, they made me pause, not because I didn't know the answer but because I'd never thought to put it into words.

"If a baby is born too early, why can't we simply keep it in warm water until it finishes growing?" I let out a slow breath.

"Because a womb isn't just a warm bath—it feeds, breathes, and protects. It's everything the baby needs." And then there were the questions that carried more weight.

"What's worse—losing a limb or losing your memory?" My grip tightened around my spoon before I set it down, meeting her gaze.

"One changes how you live. The other changes who you are." She said nothing right away, just held my stare for a long moment before nodding, as if she already knew the answer. Yeah. Rima was brilliant— and terrifying. The best apprentice in the world.