Southwestern Perimeter, Uilkmo Forest

Watching the World Announcements fade Horizon whistles low, impressed. I have somewhat mixed feelings about it myself. On the one hand, I'm happy to discover that my status is now officially and legally recognised by the capital and the greater Empire, but on the other hand, I can only imagine what kind of effect something this ostentatious will have on the playerbase. If the folks from the other starting zones weren't paying attention to me already - and I expect the more conscientious already were - they, and everyone else, will no longer be able to ignore me. First Guild, First Residence, First Noble Title, First Guild Headquarters...Any one of these is noteworthy on its own, but all of them concentrated on a single person is improbable, to put it mildly.

One thing I've been persistently worried about is that Hectic Works might break from what I know of them and actually take the time to investigate and possibly intervene in what I'm doing. Historically speaking, they actively shun interfering with the game and the playerbase directly unless they have no other option. The laws regarding VR are murky and in place to protect users as much as the company, which can run into contradictory problems when those interests are stacked against each other. Game companies have, as such, cultivated a thick outer-layer of apathy propped up by declarations of 'player first, player choice' and Hectic Works aren't any different. If anything, they're the worst offenders since they refuse to play ball with the rest of the industry, spurning partnership deals, would-be investors and who knows how much else behind the scenes.

Their only concern, from my own observations, was that their game run well and be successful. Questions of ethics, money and so on just didn't matter. Not that they often needed to make their stance known throughout Astral Reckoning's operation. Part of me wishes they did after it became clear that corporations were using it as a new storefront and money laundering venue that legislators struggled to properly regulate and tax after Merrow was recognised as an autonomous, separate world. Didn't really matter that RWT is not accommodated for through direct means, the basis of currency is the public's belief in it's value after all, although there was definitely some back and forth as to which world's currency mattered most during the early years.

At present, using our own state of affairs as the standard, they're roughly of equal importance. In-game money is needed for progression, but most have yet to fully commit to the idea of it's worth, and need real-world funds to keep subordinates happy and themselves fed. Not to mention the tax on VR Capsules, the cost of DEF...and so on, and so on. 

Things wi-

"Hey," Horizon waves a hand in front of my face, interrupting my train of thought, "You pass out out of excitement seeing the announcements or something?"

"No," I frown, irritated, "Taken by my thoughts. Not unlike you on multiple occasions the past few days."

Although we've been travelling together for a little while now, I wouldn't say we've gotten any closer to one another. As it turns out, neither of us are much for idle conversation, and we both much prefer to keep our own counsel. Albeit for different reasons, no doubt, as every so often Horizon will suddenly stop moving, staring at whatever's caught her interest this time, while I've since gained the habit of fretting constantly over this and that. Not having any input on goings-on is both blessing and curse, it seems, as while I don't need to worry about it, I can't help but get anxious and feel like there's something I could be doing, right now, that would be in some way productive to my goals.

I think I'm developing workaholism.

Or to hear Jade talk, I am already afflicted severely with it. She seems to have mellowed out a tad in the past few days, or if I'm actually able to pick up on the difference, maybe a lot. Even now, I won't claim to understand what's going through her head, but at the very least she's not constantly glaring at me whenever I talk to her back in reality.

I suppose it might be less that she's accepted my existence and more that she can't keep the vitriol going high in perpetuity. Given time, all passions, good and ill, fade into the grey, overbearing mush of apathy, and the more you force it, the quicker it happens. When RotA goes live, it might be worth attempting reconciliation once again, with our wager out of the way and all pretence dropped. I could care less about what's really motivating her anger at this point so long as she gets over herself.

"I suppose that's true enough," she makes no effort to apologise, "However, the caravan left a week ago, so it's hardly my fault we missed the opportunity, no?"

"I wasn't blaming you," I shake my head, then take out the Degraded Angstätter she bought to check our heading. We want to start out by going mostly North-Northeast until we reach a large trench, then cross it and head due East-Northeast if I'm recalling my directions correctly.

The device is rather simple to look at, and in truth, it's nothing all that complex or expensive to make for any Enchanter worth their salt even if they're not very highly-rated. It is comprised of four main components. A small hexagonal chunk of metal with a smooth bowl-like indentation on one of its lateral faces no bigger than the palm of my hand, with a crystalline bead ensconced within a mostly clear glass dome over that bowl which moves towards magnetic North. In the base is another, larger gemstone embedded within that serves as the core and power source for the enchantment. It's like holding onto a strong magnet in a way, with how it pulls itself towards the North: If I were to loosen my grip it might well jump out of my hand. A sign of its age, most likely. Newer, better-made ones don't share the same flaw.

"You still seem bothered by something," Horizon points out, tearing off a piece of jerky with her sharp teeth.

"I'm bothered by a lot of things," I exhale, a little more dismissive than I mean to sound, "...I'm having trouble relaxing."

"Sounds like you need to get drunk, or laid," she advises without a hint of shame, making me do a double-take.

"Beg your pardon?"

"You heard me."

"I did, but I'm wondering how that was the first thing that came to mind for you."

"Works for me," Horizon smirks playfully, "Oh, but don't ask me to help with the latter option, I'm already with someone. I can mix you a free cocktail after we log off though if you want?"

"Keep this line of conversation going and I might just chug a bottle of overproof tequila in one go to force myself to forget it happened," I roll my eyes, crossing the threshold into the thick-canopied forest, "I might accept the cocktail offer all the same though. Thank you."

"Great. I'll ask if Henry wants to come along too, we can make a night of it," she hums to herself, "It'll make my shift tonight more bearable."

"Not going to ask Jade?" I wonder aloud.

"Nope. She mentioned needing to work on her references tonight, I think?" Horizon takes a deep breath through her nostrils, "Ahh, love the smell of a damp forest. Close second to a bonfire."

"Keep an ear out for suspicious movement from here on out," I request, "I don't believe there are any threats in our path, but I could be mist- hm?"

"What's wrong?" we both stop abruptly.

"The Angstätter's bead just vibrated for a moment," I shake my head and put it away, "Nothing to worry about. It's old and not in the best repair."

Is what I say to soothe her, but privately I can't help but be suspicious.

---

 

Sherry

Stone Arsenal, Meteo Town

Staring into the flickering flames of the lit, shitty forge, I run over what Henna was telling me about forge welding in my head one more time just to make sure I've got everything down right. It mostly matches up with my own really surface-level understanding of how metalwork is done, but there's a few differences and deeper intricacies to the whole process that I either never knew or contradicts what I understand to be true in the real world.

For starters, it turns out that coal forges like this are more or less the way to go for smiths of all kinds. Not because people haven't considered the alternatives but because of two key reasons. The first is pretty superstitious sounding, in that it's 'how it's supposed to be done'. Supposedly, more advanced forges are impossible to use if your profession level is inadequate and the very definitely bullshit part is that it's frowned upon by the gods or whatever to just use magic to make what you want directly. Or maybe there's some sort of fear of entropy I'm missing here, which thinking about it sounds vaguely plausible, but mostly I get the impression that it's a bunch of pseudo-religious traditionalist hooey.

The other reason is that there's hundreds of different types of fuels, all with different properties to choose from, and a poor choice in fuel leads to an inferior product. Whether it's differences in application, temperature thresholds, rate of transmission or, most confusingly, specific inherent magical properties like elemental affinity or magical capacitance, you need to use something fit for purpose. Which, sure I get, there's a difference between a butane flame and coal coke, obviously, but I don't know jackshit about chemistry or metallurgy, and I'm pretty sure that even if I were the sheer variety and the existence of the X-factor of magic would have me scratching my head and reaching for the nearest bottle of scotch to numb the pain.

I have, as such, been made to memorise 58 different types of fuel so far, which can be split between three categories. Chemical Quickening, which is basically just like, petrol or whatever, but made with alchemy out of plants, animal parts and magic crap. Carboniles, basically different kinds of wood and coal; And finally, 'Crysbur' which is basically just magic crystals which emit radiation like uranium rods, usually elementally charged. Suuuuuper expensive shit, for extremely, extremely specific Schematics.

Henna hasn't even seen most of this shit, so I'm honestly not sure why she knows all of it. Eh, not like it matters. I know all sorts of superfluous crap too. I'm not undertaking a maths degree to actually do maths. That's what computers and calculators are for. My schtick is iterative development. Basically just taking a block of code and pruning it, maybe adding a few corollaries or something, or looking at a part and asking what can be done to make it less awful.

Yeah, put like that it makes me sound like a glorified spellcheck program, but it's folks like me that keep the majority of bugs from making it to the client's hands. Which, in the VR Capsule business, is a coin flip on killing you or giving you the mother of all headaches. As I've recently had the displeasure of experiencing first-hand.

Recalling it brings back some phantom pain, and I knead my temple with my knuckles, hard, in a vain attempt to squash out some of the pressure. My focus broken, I realise it might just be the fact that I've been staring unblinkingly at an open flame for a good minute or two. Feeling agitated, I let my arms fall limp by my sides, and look to the shitty wooden ceiling of this shack pretending to be a real forge, sighing.

"God sakes I'm bored," I groan, feeling like shit for no particular reason.

"Perhaps I could be of service in alleviating that boredom, Miss Fairy?"

A smug voice inserts itself into the situation, originating from a pair of heavy footsteps - male, large - behind me. I already hate him. Don't even want to deal with other people right now. 

"Fuck off," I flip him the bird over my shoulder, not even bothering to turn around and face him, "I'm not interested in your pick-up lines, I ain't interested in religion, and I don't care who you are either. So screw off."

"Don't be like that, Miss, won't you hear me out first?" he wheedles, and I feel like turning around just to punch him, "My employers tasked me with passing along an exceptionally lucrative opportunity for you."

My ears prick at the mention of money involuntarily. Rolling my eyes, I sigh, and swivel around on the stool, "Talk - and talk fast."

"We are offering a position within Kings & Queens Ltd.'s Virtual Performer teams to the tune of $87,000 per annum as part of our Valliant Advance initiative. This would include benefits such as-"

"Not interested," I stare blankly at the salesman, my sudden refusal mid-pitch causes the gears in his head to jam and grind together.

"But-"

"Not. Interested."

Smells like a scam. I admit, I really like having money, but I'm not some naïve dreamer looking to make it big in esports. They want something out of this, and it's probably not my winning smile if I had to guess. If they were serious about recruiting me, and taking me seriously in turn, they'd send an email or private message over one of my jobhunting website accounts. Going directly to me, in a shitty game that literally one person cares about is beyond stupid.

Does this idiot expect me to buy that? Frankly, I'm fucking insulted they'd think I'm that goddamned easy. Even the fucking Tour Guide isn't this much of an ignorant sleaze. And he's pretty high up there on his carnival show mysticism bullshit. Ugh, now I'm even more ticked off. Great. Just fuckin' peachy.

Not ready to give up, the beanpole sucks air through clenched teeth, "May I ask what the issue is with the terms presented?"

"Do I look like an easy mark to you?" I scowl, standing up, and getting more irritated by how much I have to crane my neck to look the pansy in the eye, "Do I? Hah? Because newsflash, you ain't catching fuckin' dungebeetles with the horseshit flowing outta your gapin' mouth. Who the fuck goes around offering tens of thousands of dollars to random fucking strangers in a dead, broke as hell vrmmo for an esports team in a different fucking vrmmo?!"

I'm shouting by the end of it, but fuck it, I need to vent and this schmuck is fair game.

"See, I don't know what it is you're trying to pull here, and I don't fucking care. Let me just, y'know, repeat that, reeeeeal slow-like so it fuckin' sinks in," I continue without missing a beat, "I. don't. care. I've got it good, all things considered. Can't say I much care for the Tour Guide's tight-lipped bullshit, sure, but between him and you, that's like comparing a wad of bellybutton lint to a turd."

I take a deep breath, and move to conclude my little takedown of this asshole.

"And y'know, him aside, I actually sorta like the people I'm with. Even fuckin' Jupiter. Mouthy little shit," I begrudgingly admit, glancing off to the side momentarily, "That, and frankly, I'm on track to earn more than double those numbers. Maybe more."

Besides, if Win wants to trust that tight-lipped brick wall this much, then fine. I'll trust her. To his credit, he's not done much of anything to her I can take fault with, besides general-purpose caginess. Sent me for a loop when he just dumped his crazy delusions out in the open like that. Truth serum thingy or not, I don't think it means much when the guy making the confession actually believes his own bullshit.

 "...."

Unsure of what to say, his mouth hangs slightly open for a moment, before he recovers, shaking his head and blinking a few times, "Very well then. If you feel that strongly about our sincerity, then I will bid you farewell."

He leaves pretty quickly, and I glare at his back until he rounds a corner and disappears from my field of view. I feel a little better, but something I noticed during all that still leaves me with a little irritation.

"Are you done eavesdropping, or are you going to come out?" I turn to address the wall behind me.

Morn steps out from behind it, expressionless, "I didn't think it necessary or polite to interrupt your conversation with my presence."

"Is that why you didn't come out until I called you on it?" I snort derisively.

"I simply wished to let you calm down first. It was not my intention to agitate you further," she claims with a straight-face, obviously lying.

"So? You gonna rat me out to the boss man?" I goad her.

"I wouldn't put it like that. Rather, I must admit that I'm surprised you declined their offer, given my impression of your greed," Morn states calmly like she didn't just hand out a back-handed compliment, "All in all, I daresay I was mistaken and shall apologise accordingly."

"I'm not that fucking one-dimensional," I growl, taking a seat and a deep breath, "Or dumb. I like what I like, and don't like what I don't like. You got a problem with that?"

"On the contrary, I admire your straightforwardness," Morn admits, with the ghost of a smile on her lips, "Or would that be candidness? In any case, I am not here to pass judgment on your actions, as I have neither the motive, the will, nor the authority to do so. I had other business in coming here, in point of fact, but I feel as though this matter is some cause for concern nonetheless."

Kind of annoying how above-it-all she's acting, honestly, but whatever. She doesn't have a problem with me, I don't have a problem with her. That's all there is to it.

"Like, 'why'?"

"Exactly," she nods stoically, "It is rather auspicious timing, wouldn't you agree?"

I squint, "You talking about the world announcements?"

"Yes. It's not hard to imagine the two are related," Morn folds her arms over her slight bosom, "After all, Kings & Queens Ltd are my former employers, and the company to which Hadrian King is the heir to. As both he and Rambling Rose are not on the best of terms with Truthseekers - in no small part thanks to you - it would then stand to reason that this is not an undertaking with your best interests in mind. I wager that the others will have received similar offers, or else will soon."

"Oh right. That cumrag on legs," I kind of blank out partway through when she brings up that self-absorbed amalgamation of daddy issues.

"...Quite," she shuts her eyes and sighs, "Once my business is concluded with Henna, it would probably be a good idea for you to return to the mansion with me so we can all discuss this incident together and determine our response should my conjecture prove correct."

"Sure, whatever," I shrug, feeling the anger bleed out, "Not like I'm accomplishing much here right now. Been listening to her rattle on about weird fantasy fuel for hours."

---

 

Olrica

Entry Hall, Voinete Mansion, Meteo Town

"So, who was that asshole?" I ask, hopping down the last two steps.

"A door-to-door betrayal salesman," Angelus explains drily, "Apparently if I sign on today, I get $80,000, and my name will become world-famous. If they only knew."

"Feel like I'm missing something, but whatever," I shrug, "Where's everyone else?"

"Jupiter and Grand are at Wolf Lord's Remains with Wolf Hunt, Windy and Morn left not too long ago and Jade should be training her blacksmithing at Stone Arsenal with Henna," he uncurls a finger for each person, "Windy should be back soon with a few more bits of furniture, though."

"Oh? Are our new beds done?" Please let them be finished. I don't want to have to sleep on the floor in my own fucking bedroom. Bad enough that I'm sleeping on the sofa in real life. Not that I'm in any position to complain because it's only thanks to her we were able to shake off the yoke of K&Q so quickly. No idea how she managed it. Connections, I guess?

"Not sure," Angelus shrugs, "We'll find out when she ge-"

The door opens abruptly, and the woman in question strides through with a face like a storm cloud. Heh. Stormcloud. Windy. Nice one, me. She shuts it behind her by pushing backwards with her boot, the clunking of the door making the hallway shudder. A fair bit of dust gets shaken from the ceiling on the floor that I already helped to clean. Damn it, girl, watch your strength.

"You're back remarkably quickly for a 40 minute round trip," Angelus observes, "Did something happen?"

"Yeah. Got hit on by a guy looking to buy my loyalty, had a bad feeling something might be happening here too, so I ended up turning back around before I got there," she explains gruffly. Looking a little closer, I can tell she's more concerned than she is angry, but the way she keeps clenching and unclenching her hands makes me think that she wants to strangle something all the same.

"What a coincidence," Angelus spreads his arms in mock surprise, "You just missed someone attempting the same thing. How much did they offer, out of curiosity?"

"...98k a year. Why?"

Angelus' face is a picture I want on my wall, "Ok. I was mildly annoyed, but now I just feel slighted."

"Huh?"

I laugh, "They offered him eighty apparently. Hah!"

"Ouch," Windy winces, "That's a big difference considering you're our one and only healer. I'm definitely not worth 18 grand more than you."

He sighs, "You are our second-in-command, so perhaps they thought you'd have more to offer in terms of the guild's secrets. You're also a decent tank, on top of that. I can see why they'd value you highly, but that much of a difference is difficult for my sense of pride to swallow, frankly."

"Hey, I wouldn't have gotten this far without you, Ange," she consoles him awkwardly, if sincerely, "We wouldn't have, when it comes down to it. You're a goddamned hero as far as I'm concerned."

Angelus smiles while rubbing the back of his head, a little embarrassed, "Thanks, I guess. But uhh, we're getting pretty off-topic."

"Yeah, if both of you are getting offers from Hadrian's people, the others probably will too," I surmise, "If I had to guess, this was their attempt at being 'polite' before they do something that definitely ain't."

"You think they're gonna start a fight with us again?" Windy asks worriedly.

"Oh yeah. I'm not really privy to everything we were planning on doing in Rambling Rose, but knowing Hadrian, he's probably been chompin' at the bit for any opportunity to get even with you all. Mostly Silver, really, but taking Truthseekers down a peg'll be just as good for him," I take a seat on the steps, "If you ask me, it was inevitable they'd try something."

"Any idea what they'll try and do?"

"Kill us and take our stuff," I tell her bluntly, "All the better if they can make a spectacle of it and come out smelling like roses. No pun intended."

"Can't say that sounds all that threatening on it's own," Angelus frowns, "We've already beaten Rambling Rose head-on before, and we've widened the gap considerably since then. As arrogant as your former employer seems to be, I doubt that fact has escaped notice."

"They can try assassinating us in our sleep if they want," I suggest, "I mean, it's not like it's a secret where we live, is it?  Not like this place is in great shape or the most secure either really."

"Possibly," Windy nods, "But like you said, Hadrian seems to care a lot about how he looks, going off his grandstanding at the gate before we dealt with the Siege."

"...How did you manage that, by the way? The Brand was a fucking nightmare to deal with," I grouse, recalling the ocean of gormless NPCs we had to wade through while half of us ended up joining the tide in attacking the rest of us.

"Well, we had Silver's strategies for one thing," Angelus throws out, "Which after the other night makes more sense in hindsight."

"...I'm surprised he remembers that far back," I frown. Not like my memory isn't great, and it is, but I can barely remember what I had for lunch last week. Let alone stuff that I was doing even ten years back, never mind thirty. Or sixty, depending on how you wanna look at it.

"His memory is unusually vivid," he agrees, "But not without precedent. Many different techniques exist for enhancing one's memorisation ability, from compartmentalizing to the so-called 'Mind Palace' of Sherlock Holmes fame. Some people just have better eidetic memory than others too."

"His memory for random people he met like, a day before is fucking awful though," Windy raises a counter-point.

"True, but that's more a case of prioritisation," Angelus folds his arms, "Unimportant information is quickly forgotten and important information is saved. Everyone does it. I, for instance, can't remember what shirt I was wearing two days ago, but I can recite my family's birthdays and phone numbers by rote."

"That's great and all, but you're getting off-topic again," I remind them, aware that the non-sequitur is my fault, "Assuming that Rambling Rose has something up their sleeve, how are we gonna handle that?"

"Hard to say without knowing what their plan is," Windy bites her thumb, thinking, "Don't suppose you have any ideas or ways to find out Olrica?"

"Nope," I shake my head, tapping my foot, "I wasn't all that close to anyone in the old dorm. Closer than Morn was, but not so much that they'd breach contract to feed me info. Could try snooping around in-game though, see what kind of moves they're making?"

"If you can, that would be great," Windy smiles thankfully, "They'll be expecting it though, so be careful and discrete about it."

"Psh, who do you think I am?" I snicker, then activate my stealth skills, appearing behind her silently within seconds, "Boo."

Rather than yelp, she twists around quickly, ready to fight, before relaxing, "Christ, don't do that!"

"Just proving a point," I stick my tongue out at her cheekily, "If I can sneak up on a Level 17 player that knows their shit, I can stay hidden around people half your Level, friend. Have a little faith in me, yeah?"

"Fine. Wait until Morn and Jade are back though, I wanna know if they got scouted too," Windy puts some distance between us, shaking her head, "We'll need to check in with Silver tonight too."

"We will have to handle matters ourselves all the same, but I agree we should ensure everyone is aware of the situation," Angelus chips in.

"Sounds good to me," I agree, feeling a little excited, "Looking forward to some action that isn't an endless parade of oversized dogs."