When he returned to the main room the quiet of the chamber greeted him again, unchanged from before. The bed remained neatly arranged behind him, the small table by the window holding the token exactly where he had left it. For a moment he considered opening the status interface again and experimenting with the stat allocation prompt he had left untouched earlier. The thought lingered only briefly. The numbers were not going anywhere, and decisions like that would be better made after he spoke with Isera or found someone who understood the system more deeply. As he crossed the room, the faint system overlay stirred once more at the edge of his vision, confirming the time again before fading back into the background while he settled into the chair near the table.
A soft knock sounded at the door just as he settled into the chair. Evan straightened slightly, more out of habit. A moment later the door opened partway and a young attendant stepped inside carrying a broad wooden tray balanced carefully in both hands. The man looked to be in his early twenties, with close-cropped sandy hair, gray eyes that flicked briefly around the room in practiced awareness, and the lightly tanned complexion of someone who spent time moving between indoor duties and the courtyard outside. His uniform was simple but neat, a dark vest over a pale linen shirt marked with the small insignia of the Authority Hall near the collar.
"Afternoon meal, sir," the attendant said politely as he set the tray down on the table. The scents rising from the dishes reached Evan immediately, warm and rich in a way that made his stomach tighten with sudden urgency. The tray held several covered bowls and a clay pitcher of something steaming faintly. The attendant arranged everything with quiet efficiency, giving a small respectful nod once the plates were in place before stepping back toward the door. Within seconds he had slipped out of the room again, leaving Evan alone with the food and the sudden realization that he had not eaten anything truly satisfying in far longer than he cared to calculate.
Evan leaned forward and lifted the lid from the nearest bowl, pausing when he noticed the small slips of parchment placed beside each dish. The attendants had set thin wooden plaques next to the bowls, each bearing a careful handwritten name. It looked like a courtesy extended to visitors unfamiliar with local cuisine. He picked up the first plaque and read the neat lettering.
Roasted Stone Tubers.
Inside the bowl sat thick slices of a pale root vegetable, browned along the edges and glistening lightly with melted butter and herbs. The resemblance to potatoes was unmistakable, though the scent carried a deeper, earthier sweetness. He set the plaque down and tried one piece. The outside held a faint crispness while the inside broke apart easily under his teeth, warm and soft with a nutty flavor that spread quickly across his tongue. Evan swallowed and felt a small, involuntary sound escape his throat. The difference between this and the rough meals he had scraped together during the past few days was almost shocking. For a moment he remembered the simple stews and fresh bread from Alder's Reach, the kind of meals shared at long tables after a day's work.
The second plaque read Rivergrain Pilaf. When he uncovered the bowl, steam rose from a mound of long golden grains mixed with diced vegetables and bits of aromatic herbs. The smell alone made his stomach tighten again. Evan scooped up a portion with the spoon provided and tasted it. The texture was lighter than rice but carried a mild sweetness that balanced the savory seasoning perfectly. He did not bother with measured bites after that. Hunger took over with honest enthusiasm, and within moments he was eating voraciously.
Another small plaque rested beside a shallow dish covered with a polished metal lid. Evan lifted it and read the label.
Skyr Roast.
The dish beneath held several slices of dark, tender meat glazed with a thin amber sheen. The scent rising from it carried a warm sweetness layered over something richer and more savory. Evan cut a piece with the small knife provided and tasted it carefully at first. The meat yielded easily, its texture soft without falling apart, and the glaze added a light sweetness that balanced the natural saltiness. Whatever animal a skyr was, its meat had been prepared with skill. The flavor lingered pleasantly after each bite, and he found himself returning to the plate again and again without thinking about it.
A clay cup beside the dishes held a pale golden drink labeled Fermented Sunberry Brew. He lifted it cautiously and took a sip. The liquid tasted faintly sweet at first, followed by a light tang that cleared the palate and cooled the lingering richness of the roast. It reminded him loosely of a mild cider, though the flavor carried brighter fruit notes. Evan drank again and leaned back slightly as he continued eating. The thought of poison crossed his mind only briefly before he dismissed it. In practical terms his current strength placed him barely above the level of a child compared to the awakened population here. If someone in this building had wanted to harm him, there would have been far easier ways than tampering with a meal delivered openly through the place's own attendants.
By the time he finished the last of the rivergrain and wiped the remaining glaze from the plate with a piece of flatbread he had not noticed earlier, the sharp edge of hunger had faded into something far more comfortable. Evan sat back in the chair and exhaled slowly, feeling the solid weight of a proper meal settle in his stomach. The simple act of eating food prepared by someone else, carried a quiet reassurance. It reminded him that for the moment he was somewhere safe enough for ordinary routines to exist again. It reminded him of Alder's Reach.
Evan's attention drifted inward after the meal, curiosity returning now that hunger had faded. He picked up one of the empty bowls and focused on the quiet spatial pressure of the inventory. The bowl vanished from his hand and reappeared a moment later when he recalled it. He touched the clay rim with his fingertips. The warmth from the food it had held still lingered in the surface. Evan set the bowl back on the table, the result noted without further thought.
He cleared the tray enough to make space and stood, moving toward the tall window set into the outer wall of the chamber. The shutters were open, allowing afternoon light to spill across the floor. When he stepped close and looked out, the view did not reveal the town beyond Dornhaven as he might have imagined. Instead, the window overlooked an interior courtyard contained within the thick stone walls of the Authority complex. The space below had been paved in clean rectangular blocks and bordered by trimmed shrubs and low lantern posts. Several guards moved through the courtyard in steady patrol patterns, their uniforms easy to pick out against the pale stone. Beyond them rose the inner face of the outer wall, its height and heavy construction leaving no doubt that the Authority Hall had been designed with security in mind before comfort.
A narrow training strip ran along one side of the courtyard where a pair of guards practiced measured weapon forms under the watch of an older officer. Their movements were deliberate and controlled rather than hurried, blades rising and falling in steady arcs that suggested discipline drilled through long repetition. Even from this distance Evan could see how easily they carried their weapons. The ease was familiarity. These were people who understood the weight of their own strength and had learned how to move within it without wasting effort.
He watched them for a while, leaning one shoulder lightly against the stone frame of the window. The scene below carried a quiet rhythm that made the scale of the world outside clearer. If these were only the ordinary guards assigned to a single Authority Hall, then the average awakened individual here operated at a level far beyond anything he could currently match. The thought did not discourage him. It simply placed another marker on the path ahead. Initiate was the beginning, nothing more. Strength, skill, knowledge of the system itself, all of it would have to be built step by step if he intended to survive in a place like this.
He stayed there long enough for the courtyard routine to settle into something almost predictable. Guards rotated positions at steady intervals. A clerk crossed the far walkway carrying a bundle of rolled documents. Somewhere beyond the walls a bell rang once, low and measured, marking the passing of another portion of the afternoon. None of it required his attention, yet watching the ordinary order of the place grounded him in a way the status interface never quite could. The world outside his room continued moving whether he understood it or not.