Jason learned that routine was heavier than labor.
The first few days at the inn had been exhausting in obvious ways sore muscles, aching joints, sleep that came fast and deep. But by the fifth morning, it wasn't the work itself that pressed on him. It was the expectation of it.
He woke before dawn again, the habit already settling into place. The room was dark, the city outside quiet except for distant movement that never fully stopped. He lay still for a moment, listening, letting his breathing even out before sitting up.
His body felt… capable.
Not rested exactly. But ready.
That distinction mattered.
Downstairs, the inn was dimly lit. Aldric was already awake, stoking the hearth with slow, practiced movements. He glanced up as Jason entered and gave a brief nod.
"You're steady," he said.
Jason blinked. "Is that good or bad?"
Aldric considered. "Depends on the day."
Mira appeared shortly after, already dressed for work, hair tied back tightly. She set a pot on the fire and looked at Jason over the rim of a cup.
"You're helping Reth today," she said. "He's repairing the back storage wall."
Jason nodded. "Tell me where."
Reth turned out to be older than Aldric by a decade at least, with a limp he didn't bother hiding and hands permanently stained by lime and mortar. He didn't waste time on greetings.
"You lift, I set," he said. "If you rush, I hit you."
Jason accepted this arrangement without comment.
The wall was behind the inn, half-sheltered from the street. Old stone blocks had shifted over time, leaving gaps where water seeped in during heavy rain. It wasn't dangerous yet but it would be.
Reth worked methodically, breaking the task into small, manageable pieces. Jason carried stones, mixed mortar, held supports in place while Reth adjusted angles by feel rather than sight.
It was slower than hauling crates.
More precise.
Jason felt it immediately.
His arms tired in a different way ,not burning, but trembling slightly as he held weight steady for long stretches. His shoulders protested the sustained tension. His fingers cramped around tools that demanded control rather than force.
He didn't push.
He adjusted.
The work rewarded patience. When he tried to muscle through a hold, Reth barked at him. When he slowed, matched the rhythm, the wall came together cleanly.
By midday, sweat ran down Jason's spine despite the cool air. His hands shook faintly when he set a stone down too quickly.
Reth grunted. "You're learning."
Jason wiped his brow. "Learning what?"
"That strength isn't loud," Reth said. "People forget."
Jason thought about that while they worked.
By late afternoon, his body felt oddly balanced fatigued but not depleted. When they finished, Reth leaned back, squinting at the repaired wall.
"Good enough," he said. "It'll hold."
Jason nodded and stepped back.
Only then did he notice the subtle tension easing from his arms, like a knot loosening slowly rather than snapping free.
Later, when he was alone near the wash basin, he checked his status.
Status
Level: 2
Physical Capacity: 2
Endurance: 2
Coordination: 2
Jason stared at the last line.
Coordination.
Not strength. Not endurance.
Control.
He let out a slow breath.
So the system ,if that's what it was or wasn't rewarding effort alone. It was responding to how effort was applied.
That was… interesting.
And dangerous, if misunderstood.
He didn't check again that night.
The next day followed a similar rhythm, but Jason noticed something else.
Recovery mattered.
When he pushed through fatigue the day before, he'd woken stiff but functional. When he worked with restraint, letting his body settle into the task instead of fighting it, the soreness faded faster.
Not instantly. Not magically.
Naturally.
He tested this without meaning to lifting heavier items when rested, switching to lighter tasks when strain built. The inn kept him busy enough that these adjustments didn't feel deliberate.
They felt… sensible.
Charlotte passed him in the hallway that afternoon, carrying a basket of linens. She paused when she saw his hands.
"You're shaking," she said.
Jason glanced down. They were, just slightly. "It'll stop."
She frowned not worried, just thoughtful. "You don't pace yourself."
He smiled faintly. "I'm trying."
She nodded once, as if filing that away, and continued on her way.
Jason watched her go, then returned to work.
That evening, Aldric poured him a cup of something dark and bitter.
"For the joints," he said. "Don't ask what's in it."
Jason drank it without hesitation.
The warmth spread slowly, easing the lingering tension in his shoulders. He sat by the hearth afterward, staring into the embers while the common room quieted.
For the first time since arriving, he felt something like ownership of his body again.
Not control.
Familiarity.
That night, he dreamed not of falling, not of ruins, but of walking a narrow bridge with no rails. Each step required attention. Rushing meant slipping. Hesitation meant losing balance.
He crossed safely by waking up.
The following morning, Mira sent him on an errand beyond the usual routes delivering supplies to a baker near the outer ring of the city. Jason accepted without comment and set out early, enjoying the quiet streets before the city fully stirred.
The farther he walked, the older the stonework became.
Not ruins. Not abandoned. Just… aged. Buildings built atop other buildings, foundations layered like sediment. The air felt cooler, heavier.
Jason slowed unconsciously.
Nothing happened.
No resistance. No pressure.
Just a sense of being somewhere that remembered more than he did.
He completed the delivery and turned back, choosing the same route without thinking.
Later, when he checked his status only once, out of habit nothing had changed.
Jason smiled slightly.
Consistency mattered.
That evening, as the inn settled into its familiar hush, Jason sat at one of the corner tables, cleaning tools with slow, careful movements.
Aldric watched him for a while before speaking.
"You don't rush," he said.
Jason glanced up. "I rush plenty."
Aldric shook his head. "Not anymore."
The comment lingered.
Jason looked down at his hands, steady now, movements economical.
He hadn't planned to change.
He just… had.
Somewhere beneath the city, stone and mechanism recorded the adjustment without judgment.
And the count continued.