Café Magique, Paris

Carrying the tray with our orders to the table requires me to weave my way through a few groups of people looking for seating of their own. As coffee shops go, this one is probably one of the more well-known in the area, but not for the quality of it's coffee, oddly enough for beau vieux Paris - but their tea selection. Or so Sherry told me, and though I hadn't expected she'd be all that interested in high-class tea blends, sometimes people can surprise you.

Placing it down and taking my seat across from her by the window, I yawn into the back of my hand. It's not that it's early, so much as I had a hard time forcing myself awake after a fitful rest last night. Wordlessly, she takes a cylindrical, ribbed clay cup filled with steaming oolong tea. I'm fairly certain that it's more appropriately meant to be used with Japanese green teas, but who's to say I'm right?

"...Wrong cup," she frowns, blowing off the steam, "Do they not have any porcelain teacups left?"

"The shelf behind the counter did look a little barren," I recall, reaching for a sugar cube and then thinking better of it when I notice the judging stare.

"Just drink it straight, like a good whiskey," she instructs seriously, "If I see you trying to put cream and sugar in a Darjeeling, I am breaking your fingers."

"I have this strange feeling of déjà vu, all of a sudden," I mutter, reminded of the night I went to Jinx's bar.

"Jinx knows her stuff," Sherry shrugs, picking up on it quickly, "Henry's just the kinda guy that likes drinking flat coke. It's not even a carbonation sensitivity thing, he just likes it warm and syrupy."

"That's...weird," I admit, frowning, "Anyway, since you went out of the way to call me out here so early, I suppose you've seen the news."

She stares out the window into the street as a few people go by, following them with her gaze, "Yeah. Congrats, you were right. Some-fuckin'-how."

"I don't begrudge your scepticism, under the circumstances," were someone to tell me what would happen in advance of the final confrontation between The Harbinger and The Last Stand Alliance, I'd have thought them mad too, "Either way I'm not going to give you grief for it. The only thing I care about here is what you're going to do now."

"Dunno yet," Sherry eventually replies, continuing to avoid eye contact, "Thinking back, it wasn't really all that great a condition to prove whether you're full of shit or not in hindsight, and you still are a needlessly cagey brick wall. But you ain't been creepin' on Win, or me, and that's really all that really matters."

"I seriously doubt that's all there was to it," I sniff the tea's aroma, not really knowing what it is I'm supposed to be picking up on, "And it's not my business. With one particularly noteworthy exception, you've been a good colleague and a tremendous help, so I'll trust in that if you're willing to stay with Truthseekers."

"...And you called Henry weird," she finally looks at me directly, "Are you trying to be some kind of saintly figure, all forgiveness and patience?"

"Not as such," I shake my head, taking a sip of tea, "It's more like I'm a believer in second chances. Under the circumstances, I'd be a hypocrite not to give people a chance to make amends and better themselves. Not about to offer a hand blindly, even so, but I have a better eye for people than most, and I think you can make something of yourself if you felt like it. Your past behaviour might be considered precocious in a child, but you're a university student now, and whether you will it or no, you are going to need to change."

"Since when were you my dad?" with a scowl, she tips her head back and takes a long draught of her still steaming brew, "I didn't come here for counselling."

"Sorry," I apologise, sighing, "I've been in a self-reflective mood of late myself...didn't mean to preach."

Sliding down her chair with a huff of air through pursed lips, Sherry shakes her head with a sober expression, "Please...don't. I get what you're saying, but I don't need you meddling when I'm working things out."

"Alright," agreeing isn't difficult.

After a while, and the tea is mostly gone, Sherry sits up straight, "Hey. Did you...know us before?"

"In the original timeline, you mean?" I think about it, "No. At least, not as anything more significant than my being just another casual customer at Gaming Sanctuary. We almost certainly would have crossed paths once or twice but...I don't remember you."

"I see," she mulls it over, "You seemed to recognise Jinx, though?"

Frowning, I consider whether or not it's a good idea to mention it. Perhaps it's the mood, but I figure it won't harm anything so long as she can keep it a secret, "I didn't know her personally - I was genuinely surprised to find out I shared a class with her, believe me - but by 2038, Jinx, or rather, 'Horizon Chaser' was the most famous Cartographer among the playerbase in the world. First to Master, then first to Grandmaster after that. I had a few of her works. And a friend sold one of her originals from back when she was unknown, got enough money from a collector to buy a ranch in Switzerland."

"No shit?" Sherry's eyebrow shoots up, "What about me and Win?"

I shrug, "I...don't think you reached the same level of notoriety. At least, not as far as I know, and I'm pretty well acquainted with the big shots since I was something like...a bodyguard to the truly rich and famous, to draw a comparison. But, that being the case, with your Guide taking such a personal interest in you, I find it hard to believe I wouldn't have, which is certainly odd. Even if you just coasted by, you'd be coveted by the major Guilds, Merchant Groups and Ateliers, just for being a Mechanist, no questions asked."

Her eyes narrow, "Is that why you're really acting so damn 'understanding'?"

"Partially," I admit it simply, "Even were that not the case, you've shown potential as a ranged skirmish tank as well. Otherwise, it's purely my personal beliefs in play."

"A ranged what?"

"More or less what you were doing in Wolf Lord's Remains," I remind her, "Only, with enemy archers, spellcasters and the intent to kill instead of distracting. I've explained the concept before."

"I guess? Honestly forgot," Sherry yawns, "You done drinking that? I want to get going."

"We still need to pay first," I remind her, "And you've not really said anything about what-"

"Look, just let bygones be bygones," she interrupts with a scowl, "If you're fishing for an apology, sure, I've been a bitch."

"That's..." frowning, I rub the rim of the now emptied cup with my thumb absently.

"But, even so, that's just for up until today," Sherry continues staring straight at me unwavering, "You want me to stick around? Then, seriously, for the last time, stop being a cagey fuck and tell us what you know. Everything.  No, 'it's not relevant' excuses anymore, or convenient last-minute exposition dumps. I don't care if you have to scrape your throat raw from talking for a goddamn month so long as you stop trying to be all aloof and get on the same level as the rest of us."

She drains the last of her drink and slams the empty cup down on the table, "Because for all your bitching about 'lack of trust' yesterday, you ain't innocent of not putting in the effort. Do you have any fucking idea how much you've upset Win? Doesn't seem like you even realise why."

"The deadline for the agreement she made with her Uncle," I state, perplexed.

Sherry groans, "Oh you dense motherfucker. Yeah, sure, that's part of it. But wrong. So wrong."

"Would you be so kind as to enlighten me?"

"We spent 2 weeks working our asses off, then the moment you come back it's like she didn't even matter and being an officer was pointless," Sherry seethes, "Sure, you said your thanks, but it didn't feel like it made up for you getting to go on a private road trip while that was going down. Least of all to Win, who's been tearing her hair out outta worry of what you'd think of what she'd done when you got back."

"That...was never my intention," I mutter, guilty, "I certainly didn't expect a riot to break out so soon after we left. And I genuinely do appreciate the pains you went to, to keep our home standing. Might be that didn't communicate very well, but I do."

"All well and good for you to say it, but after you 'forgot' her during that meeting with the investor chick, and blew her off after? Completely missing the mark to boot?" Sherry sighs, anger turning to pity, "You've seriously gotta do more than just feel sorry. What you do to make it up to her, that's your problem, this is the most I can do. Point is, you fucked up."

"It would certainly seem that way," another reminder as to my lacklustre social and leadership skills, but hopefully not a damning one, "I'll see what I can do before her deadline arrives. At the very least, I want to make an effort to overcome her Uncle's evaluation, if only to see us all properly compensated financially going forward and for our time invested. Speaking of, if the funds aren't enough to pay us all a reasonable amount, priority will be for Morn and Olrica. Other than myself, they're probably in the most need of it as it stands, and I don't feel right taking any for myself if that's the case."

Grunting affirmation, Sherry nods, arms folded, "Fair enough. How much do you think we can make in a week, though, really?"

"Unclear," I confess warily, "Smart business would be to see how high our prospective clients are willing to go and haggle them a bit higher. That said, looking at the rough market value of Empire of Stone currency to USD online, I'd value a Feardrinker piece at around $450 each at a rock bottom bargain estimate."

Blinking rapidly, pleasantly surprised, she whistles low, "That's pretty good. And from what Henna made we have about eighty armour sets in stock, last I heard. So that's...18k minimum. More than I make in a year, fuck."

"I don't think we can sell all of them for money on this side of the divide, but we should make a good amount selling in bulk to places like the Pavillion of Myriad Dao," from how willing to throw out money Miss Dawn Waker was, we can perhaps get as much as double from her, "Plus, now that Rise of the Adventurers is here, crafted gear is both more valuable and harder to acquire. Our limiting factor in the monopoly is that the same equipment drops from Miner's Nightmare bosses, but with the agreement in place with the Pioneers' Alliance, the loss should more or less even out with the cut of the taxes we'll get at the very least."

"Cool," Sherry nods appreciatively, "Seems a bit restricted all the same, logistically, though. Rarer Terrorstone drops and just Henna smithing by herself will bottleneck business real quick."

"True enough," I concur, "We'll both need to chip in for the sake of our own crafting progression as a matter of course, but expanding Stone Arsenal's facilities and dedicated workers to become Meteor Manufactory is one of our two immediate concerns. The other being training and recruitment, which goes hand in hand with the former since it'll be our financial heart. The Employment Bureau can support the Guild in-game if we keep things low-scale, but putting aside how rudimentary our version of one is, Truthseekers and Meteo have a long way to go before it really shows it's moneymaking potential."

"No point trying to squeeze blood from a stone," she quips, understanding the dilemma, "Which is basically what you're trying to do right now. Meteo is in shambles, and there's not much keeping people around. It'd be one thing if there were content past WLR, but according to you, there ain't jackshit left to explore locally. Once people get their Levels and gear back, they're gone."

"We just need to eke by until Astral Reckoning's second wind arrives," I assert, "Jupiter finished editing all the footage he was sent together last night, and I had him schedule it for noon. It'll be pretty instrumental in bringing more players to Astral Reckoning, you can bet on it."

Stating the obvious, but Jupiter didn't do nearly as spectacular a job with the movie documenting our struggles against Geronil and Arevas. He's only an amateur at best, for one thing, in contrast to the doubtless professional team that Kings and Queens Ltd's PR department hired on Hadrian's behalf. The other issue is that he, unfortunately, doesn't have access to all of the footage. Those of us using Gaming Sanctuary's capsules can't record footage, meaning my perspective for parts of the lead-up isn't included.

Much of it would be cut regardless as it involves some rather private conversations between myself and Henna, admittedly.

The result, for what I skimmed of it on the way to meet up with Sherry, was a very 'student-esque' montage, for lack of a better way of describing it that nonetheless carries with it his irrepressible personality and passion. I'm confident the influence it will have won't be any less than Rambling Rose's film, even if just because of the timing.

He's a good egg.

"No thanks, not feeling up to another wager," Sherry rolls her eyes, pushing up off the table to stand, "I'm going to go pay."

"Ok," I stretch my spine over the back of my chair, "Thank you. Should we walk to Gaming Sanctuary or catch a ride?"

"Simpler to just walk," she shrugs, shouldering her bag and rifling through it for her card, "It's only like, 20-30 minutes. I come here after morning shifts sometimes, so I know the way."

"So be it," I should consider returning here on my own time at some point in the near future, even if it's this packed so early in the morning. The cakes in the display case looked pretty appetising, I have to say. Might be fun to compare them to Monsieur Jackson's pastries, "Just to close this conversation out, though: I look forward to working with you from here on out."

"Mhm."

We shake hands gingerly on the arrival of a fresh, blank page, ready to receive a new chapter.