Morning in Loryne, smelled like fresh dough and mana smoke. Eddie sat outside his shop with a half-finished lantern on his lap and a cup of hearth-brew balanced on the step beside him. A few kids were chasing each other through the square, shouting, "Don't cross the runes!" while the baker's wife hung bread to cool in the window.
"So peaceful," he murmured. "Almost suspiciously peaceful."
Lyra poked her head out of the doorway, streaked with soot. "We're out of copper strips again!"
"Already? I just made a dozen yesterday."
"You used them all fixing Mister Brant's water pump."
Eddie groaned. "That man's pump leaks more than a government budget."
Barter Economics
Marna the blacksmith appeared carrying a sack of metal scraps. "Brought you leftovers from the forge," she said. "And the baker told me to give you this. "She tossed him a bundle of bread.
Eddie caught it, blinking. "Wait, why am I being paid in carbs?"
Lyra giggled. "You fixed her mana oven, remember?"
Right. Barter system. No coins, no contracts, just goodwill and trade. He missed the predictability of pesos—but there was something charming about earning breakfast through handiwork.
He tore the bread in half and handed one piece to Lyra. "Rule number one of freelancing: always eat your profits before someone taxes them."
The Battery Idea
After breakfast he turned back to the bench. His latest project sat there: two hollow copper bowls, a crystal shard, and a jar of saltwater.
"If mana can flow like current," he said, "then maybe it can store like charge."
Lyra leaned over, wide-eyed. "Like… keeping light in a bottle?"
"Exactly." He dunked the shard between the bowls, connected them with a rune-etched wire, and coaxed a little mana from his fingertip. The liquid hissed faintly; the crystal pulsed blue.
They waited. A minute later he disconnected the wire and touched the crystal again. It glowed on its own.
Lyra gasped. "It worked!"
Eddie grinned. "Congratulations, kid. You've just witnessed the first mana battery."
A Visit from the Mayor
The commotion drew attention. The mayor—a round man with spectacles too small for his face—waddled in, flanked by two guards.
"Ah! So you are the outsider everyone talks about," he said, eyes flicking between the glowing crystal and the copper bowls. "What are you doing to our resources?"
"Just recycling," Eddie said lightly. "Making something to hold excess mana. Could help when the wells run low."
The mayor stroked his chin. "Interesting… but the Guild frowns upon unlicensed enchantments."
Eddie stiffened. "I'm not enchanting anything. It's… basic physics."
The mayor clearly didn't understand, but the glow impressed him enough to soften his tone. "Keep your experiments safe, Mister Ramos. The last thing we need is another explosion."
As he left, Lyra whispered, "He looked scared."
"Yeah," Eddie said quietly. "Because they don't understand it yet."
He watched the tiny blue light floating in the jar. Knowledge always scared people first. Then it changed them.
Evening Reflections
That night the workshop hummed with faint mana light. Eddie leaned back, satisfied but uneasy. For every problem he solved, two more appeared: a cracked lantern here, a jealous mage there, questions about licenses and Guild rules.
"Guess even in another world, paperwork finds you eventually."
Lyra yawned, curling up on a stool beside him. "Do you think the Guild will let you stay?"
He smiled and pulled a blanket over her. "They can try to stop me, but someone has to keep the lights on."
Outside, the repaired street lamps flickered steadily across Loryne's square, powered partly by his first mana battery. The townsfolk would wake tomorrow to brighter streets and a little more hope.
And Eddie, the reborn electrician, would wake to another day of wires, wonder, and work.