Chapter 8 - Whispers of Change
The village moved on, as it always did. Suffering was a part of life, something so ingrained in the hearts of the people that they no longer questioned it. The cries of the beaten, the silence of the dead, and the absence of those sold into servitude were mere facts of existence. No one rebelled. No one resisted.
Except Aira.
She had spent her days working alongside her mother, gathering whatever food they could, but her mind was restless. She had lived here for over a year now, long enough to understand how the world operated, but she still knew so little. She had designed this world, crafted its grand cities, its towering castles, its vast forests filled with monsters and forgotten ruins. But she had never considered the common folk, never thought about what it meant to be an ordinary person in this cruel world.
And she hated it.
The noble's visit had been a wake-up call. The power of the ruling class was absolute, and the commoners had no way to fight back. She had seen firsthand how easily lives could be bought and sold, how injustice was accepted with bowed heads and grateful smiles. She had never written about this village, yet it existed, a result of the world's natural expansion. It was a terrifying thought—if there were other places beyond her knowledge, how much worse could things be elsewhere?
That was why she needed information.
Books. A library. Anything.
But this world was modelled after medieval Europe, where books were a luxury, hoarded by nobles and priests. Commoners were expected to live and die in ignorance. The only ones with knowledge were the corrupt church, the scholars who served the nobles, and the mages locked away in their ivory towers.
Aira clenched her fists. If knowledge was power, then she had to find it.
A few days later, an opportunity presented itself.
A traveling merchant arrived at the village, a rare event that drew everyone's attention. Merchants meant goods—salt, cloth, tools, and sometimes even rare trinkets from distant lands. The villagers gathered like starving dogs, desperate to barter what little they had.
Aira, however, had her eyes set on one thing: books.
She waited, watching as the merchant laid out his wares. When she finally saw it, her heart nearly stopped. A book—worn and faded, but intact.
She moved before she could stop herself. "Sir, that book—what is it?"
The merchant raised an eyebrow. "This? Just an old collection of stories. Not much use to a peasant girl. Can you even read?"
Aira bit her lip. She could read. She had written this world, after all. But commoners weren't supposed to know how, and revealing that might put her in danger.
"My father—he knew a little," she lied. "He used to teach me."
The merchant looked at her for a long moment before chuckling. "Well, aren't you an odd one. Still, books don't come cheap. Got anything worth trading?"
Aira's heart sank. She had nothing. Her family barely had enough to survive as it was. The thought of asking her mother for anything was out of the question.
But she needed that book.
"Wait!" she blurted. "What if I work for it? I can help carry your goods, clean your wagon—anything!"
The merchant seemed amused. "Hmph. Hardworking little thing, aren't you? Fine. You help me unload my goods, and I'll consider it."
The work was gruelling. The merchant had heavy crates, and Aira, being small and malnourished, struggled with every load. Her arms ached, her back screamed in protest, but she refused to stop. The other villagers watched with mild curiosity, some even laughing at her desperation, but she ignored them.
By the time the merchant finished setting up, sweat drenched her clothes, and her legs felt like they would give out. But she stood firm, panting as she looked up at the merchant expectantly.
He smirked. "Alright, girl. A deal's a deal. The book is yours."
Aira's hands trembled as she took it. The cover was cracked, the pages yellowed, but she didn't care. It was knowledge. A step toward something greater.
As she walked home, clutching the book to her chest, a fire burned in her heart. This was just the beginning. If she wanted to change anything, she had to start somewhere. And now, she had her first piece of the puzzle.
She would learn. She would grow. And one day, she would make this world tremble.