After a light rain, the town's bluestone streets were still damp.
The sky was still overcast at seven in the morning. After breakfast with his father, Esenk changed his clothes and hurried off to work.
The night before, Young Master Rowan had gathered all the blacksmiths and workers for a meeting, formally introducing the new direction for warship development-warships made entirely of steel.
Three months ago, everyone would have dismissed the idea as a Bard's fanciful joke.
But Young Master Rowan had already shown the people of Norwington on the Inland Sea the power of machinery and nature. The idea of Iron Warships was no mere fantasy.
As a child, Esenk had been fortunate enough to take part in a Class Practitioner selection ceremony. Unfortunately, his poor aptitude had led to his rejection. His only remaining path to becoming a Warrior Class Practitioner was to enlist.
His father, Lusen, had feared that his son would be used as cannon fodder if he joined the army, so he had simply kept him at home.
For a commoner, living out a peaceful life was its own kind of happiness.
Esenk had always felt an inexplicable longing to become a Class Practitioner. Those who wielded magic, holy light, shadow, and other powers had always been the figures he pretended to be in his everyday role-playing.
Everyone wanted great power, and Esenk was no exception.
The world was unfair, but it still left you ways to become stronger.
Just as Young Master Rowan had said, "We cannot become powerful Class Practitioners, but that does not mean we cannot possess power equal to theirs."
Young Master Rowan's speech at the rally the night before remained vivid in his mind.
*Young Master Rowan was absolutely right. We cannot become Class Practitioners, but the Iron Warships we