Henna's assistance proves invaluable in putting together enough shortswords to fill a pair of Donation Crates. As a matter of fact, she finished her half of the 120 needed well in advance of me and decided to just take a break to watch me as I, in turn, watch glowing globs of light slowly turn into pointy metal sticks. Occasionally a player drops by, only to get intimidated into leaving by the surly smith.

I'd like to be able to report that sixty shortswords were enough to push me into my next Promotion, but no such luck. I'm not exactly clear on how much proficiency I gained from the pile of blades, but I don't believe I'm too far off. A small part of me wants to just keep going until it happens, but I already spent the majority of my money, and I'd like to get a crate packed off to City Hall before it gets much darker.

Sealing the swords into their respective boxes, I shove them both into my inventory.

"Thanks for the help, Henna," I thank her sincerely.

She brushes it off, "Just returning the favour for earlier."

"I'll head off to City Hall and get a crate handed over before the Captain heads off for the night. Meet you at the bar you said to go to when I'm done?"

Pushing off her perch, she nods, "See you there with my cut."

---

 

The Golem, Market District

Night in Meteo City is a fairly quiet time. With the city's gates shut, the shops & market closing and many of the NPCs returning to their homes, players don't really have a whole lot to do until morning. Not that there's nothing at all, since some activities are only available at night - Meteo City is still a city in the end, so it has a nightlife scene as well; Just not very much of one if you're not well-connected with the local powers.

For most Citizens, it's enough to have a place to rest their heads. The Empire of Stone isn't exactly well-known for having an adventurous populace - if anything the stereotype is that they take pretty strongly after their nation's namesake when it comes to their temperament and behaviour. To take Henna as an example, she'd rather stare her problems into submission than actually talk about them or confront them. People like Gragg, on the other hand, are clear outliers and get treated as pariahs by the other NPCs.

When I arrive, Henna is trying very hard to contain her impatience, leaning against a wall opposite the buzzing bar. As I approach, she holds her hand out without taking her eyes off the building, "Give."

Handing over the money wordlessly, she squints at the coins in her hand through the low light, before clenching her hand around it and walking into The Golem. Following behind, I don't spare much of a glance for the rather shabby and basic bar. I've seen hundreds like it.

The bartender is a bit of a strange sight for Meteo City though - A Quirstic. A sickly sulphur-yellow man with deep green hair combed back and a noticeable paunch to his belly. Quirstics tend to avoid proximity to The Enduring Empire as a general rule, and prefer to stay within the Kingdoms (At least two of them are ruled by Quirstic royalty off the top of my head) or else travel to Panopla. While The Empire of Stone isn't especially terrible for non-Firm, they don't encourage their inclusion either, and The Enduring Empire takes special exception to Quirstics existing anywhere near them for complicated historical conflict reasons.

That's not a can of worms I want to crack into right now.

Henna and the bartender exchange a look, then the smith places her fistful of coins on the bartop - the money practically evaporates off the table in a blur of motion. Silently, he points to a door to the left of the bartop, resuming his non-active state of cleaning wooden mugs.

Motioning for me to follow, Henna leads me through the door into a small pantry, with a hatch at the end of it embedded into the stone floor. Upon the lid is branded a symbol I don't recognise.

Without missing a beat, she pulls the hatch open and starts climbing down the revealed ladder into a small room devoid of furniture barely lit by a single very faint lamp atop a large barrel that looks like it hasn't moved in decades.

"Well? Get down here," Henna calls up.

"What is this place, exactly?" I ask while descending the ladder.

"Used to be a safehouse for some nobleman or other back when the city was still independent. Asked Lifk if he'd let you use it 'till you get to the bottom of this whole mess, and he agreed for a pittance. Lost his wife to the snatchers last year, poor bastard. Barely said a word since."

Henna turns to one of the walls, mumbling to herself. Experiencing an epiphany, she firmly pushes three of the stones in sequence, a heavy clunk following each.

A few seconds later, a section of wall slowly slides open, revealing a cosy, if dusty, room with a few simple beds and some antique furnishings that are probably worth more than the bar earns in a year, assuming you could get them out intact.

Grinning, I proffer my hand to Henna, "This will do wonderfully. Thanks."

Looking at my hand like I just offered her a still-beating heart, Henna gingerly takes it and shakes, "Just get the bastards, and we'll be more'n square."

 

 

Entering the Sanctuary I turn around, "I'll stop by with the money from the other Donation Crate tomorrow. Have a good evening."

"Sleep well," Henna turns and climbs back out.

After a quick search, I find the lever to close the door, and log out.

---

 

Room 19, Gaming Sanctuary

Exfiltration is unpleasant, as ever.

My aid this time, however, is the short, snippy woman I met yesterday. I don't believe she mentioned her name, but I'm pretty bad at remembering people I'm starting to realise.

Leaning against the capsule to let the dizziness dissipate, I go through my stretches, with the woman observing in silence.

Part-way through the sets, I can see the lack of conversation eating at her.

"So. Alex, right?"

Her attempt at starting discourse is a little forced, obviously not all that enthusiastic about talking to me.

"Yes."

My bluntness throws her for a moment, "Winfrey...uhh...she wanted to ask you something. A favour. But her shift was this morning, and she missed you. N-not like...y-you know what I mean."

I roll my eyes, "Yes. Well? What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, still highly reluctant, the woman swallows her pride before speaking up, "We're not working tomorrow, and she - Winfrey - wanted to know if you'd be willing to show us around Astral Reckoning. Her idea."

Pausing, I give it some thought, "Depends. Any experience with VRMMORPGs? If so, which ones and how much?"

Looking smug, she puffs her chest out, "Gold Gladiator ranked for Duos in Valiant Advance."

I give her an evaluating look. Gold Gladiator isn't half-bad at all. That would put them as slightly above average and firmly below the pros in PvP.

I can work with that.

"What're your specialities?"

"Winfrey's a Valiant Guardian - uh that's a sword-and-board tank - and I'm a Gun Gallant. I shoot people. With a gun. Aaand magic bullets."

Firearm classes do exist in Astral Reckoning, but I don't know much about them other than that they're only available after The First Step to ranger-type classes.

"Any good with a bow or crossbow? Firearm classes are a rarity," I question, standing.

She thinks for a moment, before holding a wavering hand out, "So-so, I guess? I can probably still hit a moving target, but not as consistently."

"That's more than enough. Most early enemies have the combat awareness of a goldfish. What's your name, by the way?"

"Sherry," She gives a mock curtsy, "So, you're in?"

"I've got things I need to do, but yes. I was planning on checking out a dungeon for new players, so you'll save me the hassle of finding a party."

"You want to take us to a dungeon on our first day?" Sherry looks a little disbelieving.

I shrug, "If you can manage to deal with the control issues, I don't see why not. I've been crafting and questing mostly, putting me behind the level curve - so taking you with me benefits me as much as the both of you. I don't care about the loot particularly, either."

"But this is a conversation better had when all parties are present, don't you think?" I continue.

Sherry frowns, before conceding the point, "Point taken. What time are you gonna be here tomorrow?"

"Opening time, or thereabouts. Depends on what the traffic is like; I have to get the bus from Tortue. City Accommodations are too expensive for me."

Sherry gives me a strange look, "Didn't you, like, dump 15k on membership and reservations?"

I spread my arms helplessly, "Most of my savings. Not a rich man, quite yet. Need to stabilise my in-game funds before I can start paying off the investment and making real money."

"Huh. You sure that's a good idea? Future's bleak for Hectic Works right now, you know?" Sherry looks understandably worried.

"Positive. Nothing like failure to motivate a passionate artist," I smile.

"Suit yourself. Anyway, I need to get back to standing around looking productive while I wait for the next person to wake up. Need a taxi or are you good?"

Scratching at a really stubborn itch, I wave her off, "No, thanks. I can see myself out."

"Alright then," Sherry smirks, "Try not to collapse on the way out because I don't want to have to carry you to the first aid station. My arms are good for two things and two things only: Shooting guns, and throwing back cheap shots of tequila."

Sherry leaves the room with a laugh.

I follow suit a few minutes later.

---

 

Henna

The Golem, Meteo City

Sitting at the bar, Henna nurses a small glass of local spirit brewed by farmers in their storm cellars. The murky blue liquid swirls around the tumbler a few times before she deigns to take a sip, wincing at the acidic burn as it travels down her throat.

"Stronger than you normally get," the Quirstic bartender observes in monotone.

"So it is," replies the smith, just as dryly.

The minutes pass by in silence.

"I just feel like I can do more," Henna eventually relents, "Reckon he's a good sort, but I don't want to leave it all up to a person I just met. Doesn't sit right."

Lifk nods slowly, "I understand completely. I don't think I can be wholly satisfied if I don't get to wrap my fingers around the neck of the one who took Ishan from me and squeeze."

The glass in the bartender's hand shakes, before he softens his grip, inspecting it for cracks.

Thoughtful, Lifk places the glass under the bar and stares off into space, "But I'm not that kind of man. I'm not a killer, nor am I particularly smart. So, though Ishan may curse my cowardice, and my idiocy...I am willing to empower others to act in my stead."

His gaze flickers to Henna, "I don't believe we are of the same mind. But I must ask: Are you a killer? Do you have the wit to track them down?"

Henna taps her fingers rhythmically along the glass, then swallows the remainder in one gulp.

"I guess we'll just have to see."