Chapter 10: A Day of Rest

For the first time in a week, Taren didn’t wake before dawn.

The sun was already high when he stirred, blinking groggily in his small cottage. His muscles ached from days of shoveling, steering, and late-night work with GS516M. Every bone in his body begged him to stay in bed just a little longer.

He exhaled slowly and sank back against his pillow. Lord Kestrel was right… I can’t keep pushing like this.

He spent the morning doing nothing more than simple chores fetching water from the well, sweeping his small floor, and mending a torn sleeve.

When he passed through Crofton’s market square later that day, villagers greeted him warmly.

“The roads are looking better already!” one farmer said cheerfully.

“Lord Kestrel’s men must be working wonders,” another added.

Taren smiled faintly but said nothing, hiding the truth in his silence.

By midday, he returned home. He sat outside on a simple wooden bench, feeling the gentle warmth of the sun. For once, there was no frantic digging, no muddy roads demanding attention, no roaring engine breaking the stillness.

Instead, he just listened the soft rustle of wind through trees, distant laughter of children playing in the square, and the quiet hum of life in a village slowly healing after the storm.

His gaze drifted toward the distant hills where GS516M rested, hidden away.

“I guess you deserve a break too,” he murmured with a small smile.

He thought of the nights they had spent reshaping Crofton’s roads. The machine never spoke, never moved on its own, but somehow… he felt a strange companionship from it.

As evening approached, Taren lit a small lantern and sat at his table with a simple bowl of stew. For once, he didn’t feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him just a gentle calm.

Maybe resting wasn’t so bad after all.

Tomorrow, he thought, I’ll get back to work. But tonight… just tonight, I’ll breathe.