Reincarnation of Nikola Tesla in another world-Chapter 6: Fear, Freedom, and Fruitless Flight

Back at Braelor's Rest, the morning after Kim's departure dawned with a muted anxiety. Marga discovering his empty bedroll during the pre-dawn rounds, felt a knot tighten in her stomach. It wasn't just that an orphan had run off – that had happened before many times. But Kim... Kim was different. Silent but verbose, observant but forgetful. There was a weight to him that always marga found spooling.

She met Aldric, Lirien, and Mira by the garden after a subdued breakfast of thin gruel. The other children, sensing the shift in atmosphere, huddled closer, their usual morning clamor replaced by nervous whispers.

"Kim is gone," Marga stated simply, her voice rough. "He left during the night."

Aldric's eyes widened, . "Ran away? Just like that?" He'd often dreamed of escape, of adventures beyond the orphanage walls, but Kim... he beat him to it. Running away felt out of character for him, but he had done it.

Lirien's lower lip trembled. "Maybe...maybe he was taken?" she whispered, her voice laced with fear. "By... by shadow things? Like in the stories?" Lirien, prone to flights of fancy, often populated the world with unseen dangers lurking just beyond the firelight.

Mira, ever pragmatic, shook her head. "He left. On purpose. Nothing we can do, it's his choice"

Marga sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. "Taken or run, it matters little now. He's gone. And the world... the world out there isn't kind to stray lambs." A deeper fear nimbled at her .

"Stay close to the Rest," she warned the children, her gaze lingering on Aldric. "Don't go wandering off searching. It's dangerous out there, especially for the...unclaimed ones."

Later that morning, Aldric, restless and unable to shake off the image of Kim venturing alone , approached Lirien and Mira again, away from the watchful eyes.

"We should... we should go find him," he declared. "Bring him back. Before... before something bad happens."

Lirien's eyes went wide with terror. "Go _out there_? Are you mad, Aldric? Marga said it's dangerous! Shadow things, bandits, who knows what else!" She clutched a tattered piece of fabric to her chest, her small frame trembling. "I'm not going. No, thank you."

Mira remained silent for a long moment, considering. Then, she spoke, her voice barely audible. "Lirien's right. It's dangerous." She looked at Aldric, a question in her dark eyes. "What are you planning, Aldric?"

Aldric puffed out his chest, trying to ignore the flutter of fear in his own stomach. "Of course, I am going! Someone has to be sensible! Owl-boy is probably lost already, wandering in circles, talking to trees!" He paused, then admitted in a softer voice, almost a whisper, "Besides... I've always wanted to see the town properly. Not just for chores. Just... go." The truth was, Aldric, for all his bravado, felt a stir of envy, of longing for the very freedom Kim had claimed. He just needed a reason to go. And Kim was it.

"You're foolish," Mira murmured, but there was no real condemnation in her voice. Lirien just whimpered, shaking her head, burying her face in her sewing.

And so, spurred by a mixture of worry, bravado, and a secret yearning for escape, Aldric set off alone.

Meanwhile, Kim was experiencing a revelation of his own. The Golden Barrel Inn, while hardly luxurious, was a world away from the barbarian confines of Braelor's Rest. A room to himself. A real bed, even if it was a straw mattress. Food that wasn't gruel, even if it was simple bread and stew. Clean linen, a flickering candle, and blessed, glorious solitude. The sheer happiness of it was almost overwhelming.

He spent the afternoon observing the inn's common room, noting the comings and goings of travelers and townsfolk. Among them were a group of mercenaries, their leather armor worn, their swords and axes well-maintained. They spoke in gruff tones, their conversations punctuated by the clinking wine glasses and the hearty guffaws that accompanied tales of past battles and future contracts.

Kim watched them with focused intensity, his analytical mind dissecting their equipment, their postures, their weaponry. Swords, axes, maces...brute force instruments. Effective, undoubtedly, but...inelegant. His gaze drifted to the quivers of arrows slung across their backs. Arrows... projectiles. Once broken cannot be reused.

An idea began to form, Blacksmiths forged the metal, enchanters... imbued it with magic. Could arrows, perhaps, be...enhanced? Explosive arrows?

He thought of the marmalade, the small but encouraging success of his initial venture. Profit was useful, necessary, but...limiting. Enchantment, weaponry, that held a far greater allure. If he could master enchantment, if he could combine his scientific understanding with this world's magic... the possibilities were, as he'd mused before, countless.

Possible but were they probable?. He needed... information. Books. Scrolls. The secrets of enchanters. And those, he suspected, would not be easily acquired. He was caught in a dilemma: focus on immediate, mundane profit to survive, or pursue the long, uncertain path towards real power.

Later that evening, Aldric, driven by a naive determination and a rumbling stomach, found himself far from the familiar paths around Braelor's Rest, hopelessly lost and increasingly hungry. He'd imagined finding Kim would be simple – just follow the road to town. But the road was forked, branched, and dissolved into a confusing maze of tracks and paths.

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Desperate, his eyes fell upon a small orchard, laden with ripe grapes , just beyond a low stone wall. "Just one or two," he reasoned to himself, his stomach growling in protest. "Just enough to keep going."

He scrambled over the wall, his fingers reaching for a low-hanging branch, when a voice heard, "Well, well, look what we have here. A little orchard thief."

Aldric froze, turning to face a burly man with a weathered face and arms like tree trunks. The orchard owner. And he did not look pleased.

"I... I wasn't stealing, sir," Aldric stammered, his bravado vanishing like morning mist. "Just... just admiring the grapes. Beautiful grapes, sir."

The orchard owner snorted, grabbing Aldric by the scruff of his neck. "Admiring with your teeth, more like! Trying to fill your pockets, weren't you, you little rascal?"

Despite Aldric's frantic protests, the orchard owner dragged him towards the village, his grip like iron. "We'll see what the watch has to say about thieving orphans," he growled. "They need to learn some respect for honest folk's property!"

And so, Aldric's quest to find Kim ended not in a reunion, but in a rough beating behind the orchard shed and the gnawing realization that the world beyond Braelor's Rest was indeed, as Marga had warned