by Zen DiPietro
“I’m Sally,” she enunciated. “Just Sally.”
“And Sally doesn’t like to break things she has no reason to break,” Essley guessed.
“Yes!” Sally pointed at her and nodded emphatically.
“Well,” Darthrok said, “I guess you aren’t going to be any use for hunting.”
Essley elbowed him in the ribs, making him wince.
“I mean, that’s fine,” he said sourly. “But if she won’t hunt, she can’t be any of the mercenary classes. And that limits her in her choices if she wants to be an adventurer.”
He looked at Sally. “Do you know any of these words? Mercenaries, entrepreneurs, technies, makers, toughs—”
She interrupted excitedly, “Tilly Hightower’s a tough.”
She really wanted to meet Tilly Hightower.
Essley laughed and Darthrok scowled at her for it.
“What?” Sally asked, sensing that she’d missed something.
“He had a bad run-in with Tilly in his early days here. He hasn’t gotten over it yet.” Essley laughed.
The tips of his ears turned pink. “I didn’t mean to insult her. Those enforcers were playing a trick on me. How was I supposed to know?”
Essley laughed again. “I guess you figured it out when she kicked your brrllroowallrooo.”
Sally stared at Essley. Instead of saying the last word, Essley had made a strange, unintelligible sound. “What?”
“Sorry,” Essley mumbled. “I forgot about the language filter.”
“The what?” Sally asked.
“The…” Essley floundered for a response. “Um, it’s just a way we talk where we’re from. I forgot I can’t do that here. Impressionable young adventurers, and all.” She shrugged and rolled her eyes slightly.
Sally tried to puzzle out what Essley meant. Was Essley saying that where she and Darthrok were from, they spoke another language? But Sally spoke and understood all four dialects of Everternia—Northern, Southern, Eastern, and Western. Even all the pidgin involved in the Central regions.
They’d once said that they were from Reallife, which was a town Sally had never heard of. Everternia had a lot of towns, though, so it wasn’t so strange she wouldn’t know them all. But their speaking a different language…that was intriguing.
Someday, she’d go to Reallife and see what they were talking about. Maybe she could even learn the language.
“Anyway,” Darthrok said unnecessarily loudly, “professions. What do you want to be, Sally?”
She’d thought she’d known about the professions of Everternia, but he’d said some words she hadn’t understood and she wanted to be sure. “What can I be?”
“Well, there are three main groups. Entrepreneurs, makers, and scholars. Entrepreneur professions are mercenaries, bankers, and storemongers. Of course, only CMs can be bankers or storemongers, so your only adventurer choice there would be mercenary. It’s fun and lucrative. But you don’t want to hunt, so that would be a really bad fit for you. That means you can’t be an enforcer, tough, thug, bodyguard, bouncer, or any of that.”
She nodded with understanding.
“So you’ve ruled out the most popular adventurer profession group,” he continued. “The second most popular group is for makers. I’m sure you work with some at your store. It takes a long time to get good enough to partner with a store to sell made goods, but a lot of people enjoy crafting. You could do leatherwork, haberdashery, forging, cooking, botany, those kinds of things. It’s nice because you can make your own items and not have to buy them.”
Essley added, “Maybe that’s a good choice for you because you’d be able to make things for your store. Then you’d have all the markup to yourself.”
Sally didn’t have the words to tell them that her cash register made as much money as she needed, but she might not have told them that anyway. She had a lot to learn about the world, but she already knew that money made people do strange things.
Bad things, sometimes.
Darthrok said, “Technies are the other type of makers. They’re engineers, basically. They make devices. They start with really simple things like wind-up toys and can go all the way up to building engines or even entire vehicles if they have the skill for it. Like any crafting trade, it can be a little tedious, but it’s lucrative. Eventually.”
He paused and when she nodded, he continued. “Last, you have the scholars. Doctors, which is self-explanatory, soul rectors, and trainers. Trainers are pretty self-explanatory too—they are teachers of various types, who relay lore and help people learn specific things. This is the least popular group of professions among adventurers because the pay stinks and it takes a long time to get good. So, not many adventurers choose these jobs and mostly it’s just CMs who do them. But those who do choose these jobs tend to be very, very well-liked and are treated well, even by the worst people. That’s the opposite of the mercenary types, who are generally disliked. It’s kind of the difference between material wealth and social wealth.” He took a breath. “So what do you think?”
“You forgot to explain soul rectors,” Essley said.
“Oh, I did, didn’t I?” He looked sheepish. “Well, nobody wants to do that, anyway. You explain it.”
Essley sent him an exasperated look. “Soul rectors are the only ones who can bring an adventurer back from the dead if they haven’t earned godsends. It’s difficult and painful for the soul rector, and Darth is right that few people want to do it. Soul rectors can also lessen experience loss even if a deader does have a godsend. So it’s a tough job, but a really important one.”
“A matter of life and death,” Darthrok said, laughing at his own joke. No one else did.
That job sounded awful to Sally. She absolutely wasn’t going to dilly dally around with death. She’d been through enough of her own deaths already, thanks to a customer named Kitria.
Just thinking of the woman’s name made Sally recoil. The last thing she wanted right now was to face Kitria, under any circumstance.
Darthrok said, “If you don’t have an alignment to maintain, then that doesn’t limit you in your profession or specialty. Did any of those professions interest you?”
She nodded.
“So which one do you want to be?”
She shook her head.
“You aren’t sure? You have to think about it?”
She nodded.
He whooped and threw his hands in the air. “I’m getting good at interpreting her responses.”
Essley lightly slapped him on the back of the neck while addressing Sally. “You don’t have to rush to decide. Like this fool said, your options are open. Though if you’re regional, like Eastern or Southern or whatever, that would give a natural boost or impediment to some skills. But you seem pretty Central to me.”
“As much as it gets,” Sally responded.
“As much…” Essley paused. “You’re as Central as it gets?”
“Yes,” Sally agreed.
Essley laughed. “Yeah, I guess you are. But that’s good. You won’t get any bonuses, but you don’t get any impediments, either. You’re literally a blank slate.”
Sally wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but she liked having options. She didn’t have to ask Essley and Darthrok their professions. All she had to do was look them over. Her very first assessment of Essley and Darthrok had revealed them to be toughs, but they’d both gone the unusual route of being good rather than evil or chaotic. Unusual choices always interested Sally, so she’d taken note of the pair when they’d first started adventuring.
As toughs, all Darthrok and Essley really had to do was wander the land looking for quests and fights. Essley was a hardy Northerner, which was the most common choice for mercenaries in general, while Darthrok was a bit more unusual in being a charismatic, good-looking Easterner. But as an adventuring pair, it was probably advantageous for them to have different natural talents.
If Sally were to join their adventuring party for the long
-term, she would have to consider what profession would best serve the group.
She looked at her companions, and decided that for as long as they took good care of her, she’d take good care of them.
Gazing past them, she focused on the factory. “Can we go in?”
They followed her gaze and Darthrok said, “Not unless you want to get mobbed by clickers. They’ll swarm us, and weigh us down, and it will be a death by ten thousand little cuts. Not fun.”
Sally bit her lip, looking at the tall building. There was just something interesting about it. She imagined it full of mysteries, fascinating machinery, and forgotten stories. Something about it called to her.
Essley nudged Darthrok. He took a big step away from her, then heaved a huge sigh. He looked to Sally. “Is this something you really, really want to do?”
“I do.” She nodded with determination.
He let out an even bigger, much more dramatic sigh and reached into his weapons belt. “I can’t believe I’m saying it, but I do have this. It emits a pulse that will disrupt mechanicals for ten minutes. This is one super expensive device, and meant to save your life when fighting mechies. Any mechies. Big mechies. It’s a massive waste to use it on clickers.”
She stared at the small, rounded disc-shaped device, putting her hand out. “How much?”
“Five hundred gold. I was halfway to making my first platinum, but I traded it in on this.”
He wasn’t giving her the thing, so she stretched her fingers out wider.
“Why do that?” she asked.
He hesitated before gently placing the device in her hand. It felt cool in her palm, and was heavy for its size. “Because the better my skills get, the more dangerous the mechies I can hunt. The more dangerous the mechies, the more money I can get for their parts. But the more dangerous they are, the more I need to upgrade my gear. So one thing just feeds into another, and I can’t afford to lose my gear. This baby protects my investment. Plus, dying is a pain in the butt.”
If a person constantly adjusted a ratio, nothing ever changed except for scale. That’s what what Darthrok’s profession sounded like. Sally couldn’t understand his interest in such tedium.
This weight in her palm, though, seemed anything but tedious. It felt important. She gently touched it with her forefinger, wondering how it worked.
“No, not like that!” Darthrok yelled, dropping to the ground and covering his head with his hands.
Sally froze in terror and squeaked, “What?”
He threw back his head and laughed as he got up and dusted himself off. “Just messing with you. You can’t accidentally set off a device made by Sujan. He makes the best stuff, which is why it costs so much. His machines never fail or backfire. Unlike the stuff others sell.”
She stared at him. He was joking with her. Playing a trick on her. Treating her like a real member of his party.
She giggled, then broke into peals of laughter. She laughed at both his naughtiness and the pure, unexpected joy of being included.
“Well, you’re a good sport, Sally Streetmonger,” he said, smiling. “I like that. Almost makes me feel better about giving away my entire life’s savings.”
She smiled at him brightly. Maybe he was an okay guy, after all. Not many people would hand all their money to someone with no expectation of receiving something in return.
Maybe she should give the device back to him. He’d worked hard for it.
She probably should.
But that abandoned factory called to her, somehow. She needed to see the inside of it. She looked from the device to Darthrok, and then to the factory.
She couldn’t resist the factory’s call. Later, she’d pay Darthrok back for his sacrifice, but for now she wanted him to bask in the glow of having done something selfless.
It was a truly rare act in Everternia, where everything had a price.
She pointed at the device in her palm. “How?”
“If you’re sure a peek at a dusty old crapshack is worth five hundred gold, put your thumb in the center, and press down hard. At the same time, touch the button at the top.” He looked like he was hoping she’d change her mind.
She did as he instructed and activated the disruptor. It vibrated slightly against her skin, but made no other indication of doing anything.
“Let’s move,” Essley said, turning toward the factory. “We need to be out in ten minutes. Trying to retrieve your stuff from a swarm area is dicey at best.”
Sally could see her companions’ complete list of stats just by looking at them. Being able to size adventurers up made her better able to accommodate their needs at her store. Essley and Darthrok were both level ten, with the requisite weapon ranks required of mercenaries of that level. How experienced did one need to be in order to be able to just wander into this place?
She entered the factory right behind Essley and Darthrok, who stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking her from being able to see much until they were several steps in.
“Wow.” Her eyes followed tall support pillars that held up a second floor, then reached all the way up to a vaulted ceiling.
On the walls, someone had laid an intricate mosaic of crystal, forming a vast sky of constellations and scattered stars. In the dim light, pieces of crystals twinkled like true stars.
“Wow,” she said again, doing a slow turn as she stared upward.
There, an even greater view met her eyes. The ceiling of the factory was domed and buttressed, creating a soaring roof above the factory. Even more amazingly, the ceiling was entirely made of glass, creating a massive skylight effect.
Sunlight struggled to shine down through the accumulated grime, giving them just enough light to see by, while also creating a depressing, shadowed atmosphere.
Sally imagined the view of the sun and clouds she’d see by day, if the glass were clean. Even more amazing would be the view of the night sky, with the moon glowing and stars twinkling.
Her heart hitched. She really wanted to see that.
Essley tugged on her arm gently. “We need to move through here fast. Five minutes in, five minutes back. No exceptions. Okay?”
“Okay.” Sally tore her gaze from the grimy ceiling and obediently followed Essley further into the massive space. She hardly dared to breathe. Despite its neglected filth, the factory housed wonders beyond her dreams. Within the confines of this forgotten place were not devices or gizmos or gadgets, but full-on, powerful machines.
Awe shivered through her, and she felt something within her growing as a result. What was that feeling? Not wonder, exactly, though she felt that, too. It wasn’t curiosity, either, though she felt that in spades.
It was ambition. The sensation clicked into place with the word and she knew that somehow, machines needed to have a place in her future.
An important place.
Careful not to lag behind, she kept walking as she gawked. She eagerly stared at the unidentifiable contraptions as she passed them, wondering about their intended purpose. A thick coating of dust obscured details and covered workspaces and desktops. From the look of it, the place had been part manufacturing facility and part design house. Or maybe an experimental laboratory.
It could be almost anything, and her imagination soared higher than the domed ceiling.
She yearned to see the machines gyrating and rolling, all their parts working in beautiful synchronicity. She could imagine the electric thrum and steam hisses of activity as they created things that were bigger than the sum of their parts.
Thrilling.
She could envision it all, even as it sat, silent and hulking, under a layer of dust and surrounded by thousands of unmoving clickers. There was so much power and movement, so much genius and efficiency, hidden behind this false hibernation.
These beautiful inventions deserved to be brought back to life. Everything here was just waiting for another chance to live again.
As they passed a bookcase, the bounty of knowledge beckoned and she fell behind.
Essley and Darthrok continued on, pushing frozen clickers out of the way with their feet and not noticing that she’d paused. She perused the book titles.
Practical Electricity, Supply Chain Management Essentials, and Mechanical Theory all cried out to her, asking her to save them from this sad, unread existence.
If the items were abandoned, they were legal to scavenge, right?
Hesitantly, she reached out, laid her fingers on Mechanical Theory, grasped, and pulled. It came free from the shelf. Surprised and elated, she stuffed it into her backpack.
She hadn’t really expected that to work.
She froze, waiting for some kind of punitive lightning to strike her. Nothing happened.
She hurried to catch up with her friends just as they noticed she’d fallen behind.
“Something wrong?” Essley asked.
Sally shook her head. “All good. Great wares.”
“You think so?” Essley tilted her head to the side, observing the place. “It seems kind of sad to me. Even scary, if you imagine being here alone at night.”
“The clickers would make a meal of you,” Darthrok quipped. “I don’t think this has the makings of a neat campout spot.”
Essley checked her pocket watch. “We should head back. We can loop around the other side on our way out.”
Sally nodded and followed along, feasting her eyes on what must have been a fascinating hive of activity sometime in the distant past. She caught sight of an astrolabe and wondered if it was a genuine antique, or if it was the replica kind that projected a precise image of the stars. Sally took a step in that direction, but Essley shook her head at her and she stopped. Since Darthrok had made a great sacrifice to show her this place, she wanted to be on her best behavior.
Outside of taking the books, anyway.
As she neared the same doorway they’d entered, she passed a desk that had a small apparatus about the size of her fist. On impulse, she rested her fingers on it as she went by, then grasped it and dropped it into her pack. Maybe her books would help her identify it later. It certainly looked interesting.
