Not long after I provisionally accept Mr Lonsz into Truthseekers' employ, Morn returns from Town Hall with a trio of young men who, not too dissimilarly from the new Employment Bureau Chief, have found themselves out of a job in spite of the stimulus and compensation so charitably handed out by The Unstained Reginlei on behalf of the Empire of Stone. Two of them were porters for a now-defunct cooper's workshop in the east end of town while the eldest of the three was unfortunately shuffled out of the local administration when the Reginlei rolled into town with an eye for reforms.

The former are perhaps less qualified, and the latter is certainly of questionable character because of his time served during the prime of Geronil Uvstine's influence, but after a fairly swift interview conducted with myself, Morn, Mr Lonsz and a reluctant Angelus as the jurors, we decide to accept them without incident, though their exact roles within the bureau are down to Mr Lonsz to decide upon. We still need a few more to fill out the roster, but he apparently means to reach out to his former employees to see if any are still in need of work.

Hopefully, by noon tomorrow, the Employment Bureau will be ready to begin operations.

Led by Windy is a group of people I only partially recognise, comprised of the Holy Spring Orchard leader, Miss Dawn Waker and others I can only assume are partnered with us on a cooperative basis to some degree. I don't recall anything about this being mentioned, so I presume that this is just as unscheduled as the arrival of Mr Lonsz.

"Hey, Silver," Windy greets us after breaking ahead of the group, her mood ambiguous, "Kinda got cornered by them when I was out shopping for bed stuff."

"They didn't think to ask for a meeting ahead of time?" I frown - more out of a sense of guilt towards her than irritation. I'll have that talk a little later today.

"I sort of just accumulated more of them as I went," she laughs nervously, "Um, good afternoon, by the way? Didn't catch you this morning."

With a sigh, I eschew any objections, understanding that I snubbed quite a few of them yesterday, "Yes, I had to put an issue to rest, so I couldn't log in at the usual time. I will have to deal with these fine folks now, but would you be free to talk afterwards?"

"Er, yeah," she bites her lip, still anxious, "Sure. I'll, uh, just leave them to you and go back to hunting for mattresses then..."

"If you happen to spot Olrica, could you ask her to come back?" I request before she leaves, "I need to pick her brain on a few subjects. And besides that, I'm hoping that there will be a few more applicants to work in here. The Employment Bureau is non-functional without all requisite staff registered and present."

"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out," Windy agrees, licks her lips and sets her shoulders, "I won't be gone long, so, please-"

"I know," I don't need her to finish her plea to understand what she wants to say, "If something serious comes up again, I'll wait for you to return."

"...Thanks."

"You should probably get going, then," Angelus nudges her, having resigned himself to actually helping out now that he has no book to read, "I expect this won't take long to get through, and we're keeping them waiting besides."

"Right," Windy nods with a bit more confidence, "Keep an eye on him for me, Ange?"

"I'm not his babysitter," Angelus complains good-naturedly, "Go, get going."

Who are you calling her child, exactly?

Never mind, work calls. I follow behind her, approaching the crowd of five, though Windy herself only quickens her stride and walks around them with a smile and a wave. Glancing from each representative, I reaffirm the fact that I only recognise two of them. The remainder are a mystery to me, all-in-all, so let's get introductions squared away first.

"Good morning, I am Silver Nosster, the leader of Truthseekers," I state formally, "I don't believe I have any meetings scheduled for today, so can I ask you to explain why you're here unannounced?"

"Heh, so you're the famous Silver?" one of the unknowns ogles me, "Have to say, you're quite an elusive man to hear the tales."

"...And you are?"

The Luvopen Panoplast - or in simpler terms, a canine demihuman typically associated with wolf motifs - clears his throat, scratching casually at his chin with a long claw, "Ah, right. Rex Oscars, I've the pleasure of leading Adventurists. Been out of town for a while, same as you."

Still don't know him.

"Well, I'm just here to scope out the competition, really, but I hear my kid brother Logan negotiated a deal with you for a piece of this place," he explains further, with no sense of tension whatsoever.

"That's a little misleading," I frown, "Though the precise details elude me, I recall that the terms were for preferential treatment when making use of this Employment Bureau and the Training Hall downstairs."

"Yeah, yeah, that," he beams, "These fine gentlemen next to me are here to check in on their investments as well, correct me if I'm wrong?"

"Primarily," the grey-haired Firm rumbles, "I was also hoping to finally speak to you, Mr Nosster. I am Solar Breath, Grandmaster of Master Dragon."

I blink, vaguely recognising the name, "A pleasure."

Adopting the trappings of dragons for your motif, on Merrow, no less? I'd call it brave if it weren't guaranteed to be the result of innocent ignorance, but I expect that they'll learn the folly of such the moment they try to register the name as an Official Guild or introduce themselves to The Ignorant by that moniker.

I wouldn't exactly call it a proper taboo, per se, more like an ill omen. None of my business, in any case.

"I'm sorry for the sudden visit," Miss Dawn Waker takes the space in the conversation to speak up, a little more passive than I know her to be, "But after our last meeting, I just wished to follow up on the things we discussed. However, it seems you did not receive my message to that effect."

From her anxiety, I take it to mean that the unexpected arrival of a major patch has bestowed upon her a much-elevated sense of urgency even compared to her seeming desperation before. What exactly the significance of her behaviour is, remains a mystery best left to clairvoyants.

"If that's the case, I apologise," I've been checking my inboxes pretty consistently, so assuming she's telling the truth it would have to have been sent after I began the dive, "Which just leaves...Mr Adan and..?"

"Marcus, I work with Klare," he introduces himself simply, "I'm here to deliver some requests and check if the Bureau is open yet."

"The latter, in our case," Mr Adan smiles, "It's been a while, Mr Nosster. Are you still performing Appraisal services by any chance?"

"That it has," I acknowledge politely, "And yes, when time allows. The rates will remain the same as the last time, I think."

"Excellent," he pumps his fist, "The NPC's prices are really just too much."

"This service sounds like it would be of interest to Master Dragon as well," Mr Solar Breath comments, "I will have to trouble you for an explanation of the conditions later, Mr Nosster, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," I shake my head, inwardly a little happy to have the opportunity to make money off that old scheme still, "As I said, however, it will only be as time allows. The coming days promise to be ever-busy, now that the time to consolidate our gains has arrived. On that note, why don't we talk about the Bureau?"

Observing the new clerks undergoing some basic orientation under the supervision of Morn and Mr Lonsz behind the desks in the back of the hall from the corner of her eye, Miss Dawn Waker crosses her arm in front of her bosom, "Is it operational?"

"Not quite," I answer calmly, "We still need three more people to fulfil the facility's operational requirements, but having already hired a manager and three workers within a day, I trust that we'll be ready to open sometime tomorrow. Whatever time we open, the first day will be a complete free-for-all in terms of commissions, as you already agreed. Thereafter, Truthseekers will have first choice of the requests coming in, while those of you eligible will have the second for any single request prior to the public."

"On that subject," Mr Adan strokes his chin, "Might you be persuaded to ease up on that restriction at all?"

"No," I deny flatly, "It's already going to cut into the potential jobs available to the public to operate under these conditions. The Employment Bureau does not exist for the sole benefit of Truthseekers or partnered organisations. If we were to allow you to take even more, we would risk our credibility. The same goes for anyone who takes those extra jobs by cutting in line - the concessions negotiated with you to see this facility built can only justify so much, as you can probably appreciate."

"...With respect," Mr Solar Breath coughs, "We are the public, effectively at this point."

"For now, perhaps," I smile mysteriously, "And for now, that is my stance on the matter: Truthseekers will commit to its independence, obligations, and neutrality."

My declaration takes a few moments to sink in, Mr Adan changes the subject, "Setting that aside, how exactly does this place....work? Somehow the idea that there will be a constant stream of requests strikes me as implausible. Not to mention competition from the Pioneers' Alliance."

"Ah, well, I do not know if it was mentioned at all," I clear my throat, "Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't - I'll explain regardless...Truthseekers is formally acknowledged as a partner of the Pioneers' Alliance, and they're the ones who gave us access to the Blueprints and helped fix up the Training Hall. That essentially means that they will occasionally pass work to us, and we won't directly interfere with their business interests. For the most part. Beyond that, I can assure you that there will always be something posted on the board."

I raise my finger to signal my realisation of a further tidbit of info, "Ah, and according to the limitations of this specific 1-Star Copper-Tier Employment Bureau, we are authorised to issue Quest opportunities up to Bronze-Tier Level 20. Thereabouts. Adjusting to region-specific influences, most commissions will be sub-15 Copper-Tier. Truthseekers will also be posting our own commissions with those conditions in mind fairly regularly, such as, just as an example, gathering a certain quantity of blue birch lumber."

"Does that mean Truthseekers are able to, in essence, hand out Experience rewards at will?" Mr Adan mutters, disturbed for some reason. Probably worried that we're going to start printing Experience infinitely for ourselves. As if Astral Reckoning would ever let things be so easy.

"We can't flood the board with our own requests, and Quests we post can't be taken by our own membership," I clarify promptly, "Safe to say, anything we personally post is something that would be inconvenient for us to do ourselves for whatever reason. There's no way to exploit it without jumping through hoops and potentially attracting the ire of higher powers."

And I'm not talking about Hectic Works, believe me. It is absolutely not worth it to try and game the system.

"The patch notes did mention that the devteam was looking into something similar with Farmer's Folly," Mr Solar Breath remarks.

"Yes. I heard there are other dungeons like it being farmed in excess as well," Miss Dawn Waker nods in agreement, "Rumour has it that's why the people who started in The Town of Forgivenesss were able to progress so quickly."

While true that they had one of the 'broken' dungeons, it's not the only reason that they got as far as they did. Credit where it's due, there's an unusually high concentration of competent people who started out there, and the dungeon in question is several steps above Farmer's Folly in difficulty. Comparing them to the fifth-rate thugs and envy-paralysed playerbase that seems to comprise early-days Meteo...isn't fair to either group.

As time passes, it's become clearer that the average standard of the future players of this region is going to be somewhat similar or lesser than my own former attainment - as Acolytes. Few if any would be able to dream of anything more than that, though I won't discount the possibility, statiscally, that some of them never caught their lucky breaks or came to understand their real worth.

As Truthseekers have demonstrated, there are only so many opportunities that can be taken, and you need the driving force of will to seek them out. The long-reaching consequences of my bumbling larceny of fates are too far off to speculate on further.

In any event, our guests' conversation is petering out, so it's time to play host again.

Private Sparring Chamber, B1F, Truthseekers Main Headquarters

"...and here is the room housing our refurbished Training Hall," I open the door and usher the representatives inside, "Like the Employment Bureau, it's very basic, and not completely furnished besides, however, the core components have been repaired as best as they can be which isn't saying much to be blunt. Though it can be used for simple exercises and demonstrations the same as any private room, the real value in this device lies in two of it's perks: An admittedly rather useless Level suppression effect of one, and more beneficially, a forcefield that activates to prevent maiming, loss of limbs, and death. Up to a certain level of strength that is, but in a training scenario, it'll be enough to prevent most accidents at your Level range while allowing you to fight at full capacity without fear of harming your sparring partner."

Then as an afterthought, I add a clarification, "Well, too much - you still need to meet a rather nebulous threshold for the barrier to activate, so expect to still take a lot of bruises and cuts. Please note that this function takes a lot of power out of the array, so carelessness in it's usage will result in additional charges."

"Additional charges?" Mr Adan asks, concerned, "How much are we talking about?"

"That's not something we've really got nailed down," I confess with an apologetic tone, "The power source isn't uncommon, but supply to Meteo is short for the moment, so we may run into trouble acquiring more. The fine is in place because excessive consumption will render the Training Hall inert - triggering the barrier once or twice won't be scrutinised, but past that you will be asked to pay the difference and leave."

I don't add that the actual capacity and efficiency of the array is utterly abysmal, owing to it being ancient and stitched back together on a budget, but casual use will ensure that the profits generated will be enough to cover the operational costs, similar to how the Employment Bureau will be paying for itself.

Mr Oscars - who has thus far been staring pretty intensely at me the entire time since we first exchanged words with rather familiar intent - starts laughing animatedly, with a big toothy smile across his face, "So, this thing is operational now?"

I already know where this is going, "Yes."

"Alright, well, do you mind helping me test it out? Gotta be sure you're telling the truth y'know," his smile turns sly, leaning in provocatively, "What do you say, huh?"

The interest of the other three is piqued by his less than subtle challenge. Miss Dawn Waker hides a small smirk behind her hand, eyes aglow with expectation. Mr Adan, though mildly concerned evidently finds the idea enticing given that he appears to want to echo the sentiment, and Mr Solar Breath is largely unruffled, but sweeps an evaluating gaze between us, estimating the outcome.

For my part, looking the eager Luvopen up and down, all I can read from him is the emblematic traits of the average voluntary Challenger's Pilgrimage contender. To be specific, the newer pilgrims, fresh on the road with more steel at their fingertips than sense in their heads, as yet unwhetted by trials and poverty.

An enthusiastic greenhorn, unaware of the grandeur of the world in simpler terms.

I consider it, feeling the itch return.

"So be it," I grumble, "I can spare a minute."

"That sounds rather optimistic," he laughs boastfully, "I wager you won't last five moves from my blades."

"A wager?" Miss Dawn Waker's eyes narrow.

"Sure," Mr Oscars bobs his head, full of confidence, "I've-"

"No," I shoot him down before he can continue, inwardly cringing at forgotten memories of my youth spent with hot-blooded fools like him in Ghoath, "If you want to spar, we can spar, but if you want a duel with stakes on the line, it won't be a fair contest. I cannot in good faith agree to such a farce."

The wind taken out of his sails, Mr Oscars scowls, retrieving a shortsword from his inventory and levelling it at me, "You chickening out on me?"

"I'm being quite serious," I assert with due certainty, "In Level alone, I'm far ahead of you all. Exactly how much by, I'll not say, but bluntly, just my Strength is in all likelihood double yours."

The looks of sheer disbelief on their faces turns to incredulity, and Mr Oscars' offended eyebrows tent with sudden mirth.

"Funny joke," he offers backhanded praise with mock sincerity, "Come on, let's see if you've got anymore."

Another sword is taken from his inventory, with one blade occupying each hand. I don't recognise them, but his gear overall doesn't impart any sense of pressure to me. Or maybe that's just because I'm having a hard time taking him seriously.

Realising the folly of contempt for an opponent, I sigh dejectedly and excuse myself to retrieve my equipment from my room, which once again causes the tension to noticeably deflate. Not my concern though, he's the one being rude.

Fully equipped in the old Lonnet's set, flamberge shouldered as I hike my knee up to get onto the platform, I take the few steps necessary to reach my starting position and ponder exactly how I want to play this out.

I don't typically mess around when it comes to a fight, so although I would like to take my time and work out the kinks that have been building up over the last month, that isn't the purpose of this scrap, and I don't want to offend this greenhorn anymore than kicking his ass already will.

At the same time, just ending him in one thrust won't really prove anything. Except perhaps that I am a brute who relies on an attribute advantage over skill, and I already left that Path behind when I gave up Reaver for Iron Lord. Which makes it sound like the ideal option would be for something in between but...

Half-assing it isn't in my nature.

What a lovely, utterly pointless moral conundrum I've imposed upon myself. Quite laughable, really.

My self-mocking smile rubs Mr Oscars the wrong way though, if his grit teeth and glare are anything to go by. Growling through his clenched jaw, he invokes the system command to start this off, "<Duel>"

I reject it before I finish reading it, "I was quite clear on my feelings about a wager, Mr Oscars. If you try it again, I will no longer be patient with you."

"God damn it, just accept!" he shouts, clearly frustrated for reasons I don't care enough to understand.

Resisting the reflexive urge to roll my eyes, I head off a likely tone-deaf third attempt to get me to agree to some asinine bet stating I hand over the keys to the Headquarters or something if I lose by invoking the system command myself, with no conditions attached. A proposition he accepts blindly in his agitation before immediately showing regret.

"Wa-"

I do not give him the space to complain, already dashing forwards with a long-reaching thrust of my flamberge. Startled but not inanimate, he sidesteps in a panic, then backsteps to regain his posture and composure. Landing in a stable form of my own, I pivot my waist and slash after him with a slide of my front foot, aiming to maintain pressure.

The answer I settle on in the end, is that I would not use any of my Active Skills. I can't do anything about the always-on Ironbite Aura which irritatingly lacks a toggle option, but it will only come into play if I hit him and that would signify victory regardless. Mr Oscars also appears to be at least Level 14, or else the added effect would have immobilised his movements.

He attempts to obstruct my arc by raising the nearest sword to block, which as it happens is the worst possible move he could have made. Setting aside whether or not I'm telling the truth, I'm swinging a heavy blade with momentum generated by two arms against his one. Without a sizeable disparity of Strength in his favour, it's suicidally stupid.

Perhaps realising the error, he makes the snap-judgment to activate a Skill, "<Ram Thrust>"

The swordsman suddenly lunges forward, both swords extended like the horns of a bull, body lowered substantially and relying entirely on the motive force of the Skill's activation to propel him in spite of the ridiculous posture. What he fails to take into account is that even with the boost in speed, not only am I statistically superior in all areas physically, I kept proper control of my Territory throughout, and the space between us is farther than he can reach before I'm able to respond.

Shifting to my other foot mid-swing, the trajectory of my attack is altered as I move ever so slightly out the way by the time he gets close enough to threaten me. Breaking off the attack, and following the momentum of his dissipating Skill through he dives into a forward roll, dodging reprisal narrowly for an instant, but leaving him entirely open to a boot to his midsection while he recovers and my sword returns to rest.

-101

Even a casual kick is more than enough to emasculate my early-game self in damage output now. The Luvopen is sent sprawling and rolling away, never losing grip of his swords and hastily performing an acrobatic maneuver to hop back to his feet, ready to resume. Perhaps I'm still holding back subconsciously.

No matter. I have a feel for his speed now, and he doesn't appear to have anything special to offer. So, having acted with full-prudence to ensure no surprises, let's just finish this and get on with more important matters. I slowly gather breath in my lungs for a second charge, even as he sets his stance, plainly utterly confused at what's happening.

"How a-" he voices a protest, but is, once again, ignored completely as I appear before him in a single lurching step sword held shoulder-height. I directly smash his head with the pommel, meeting a surprising well of resistance as the Training Hall's preventative barrier manifests with a bit of lag, blunting the majority of the blow.

Mr Oscars is thusly smashed backwards to the floor prone before he could muster a proper defence with a yelp of anguish, one sword clattering on the ground at his side as he clutches the freed hand to his forehead, groaning terribly. In the end, as expected, he didn't amount to much.

How...disappointing.

"H-how..?" he doesn't seem to be able to process it, "I'm Level 16..."

"Perhaps that's impressive if you compare yourself to a normal player off the street," I calmly sheath my sword and dismiss the window declaring my victory in the duel, "But the world is a much more unfair place than you know."

"The frog knows not the world outside the well," Mr Solar Breath quotes, clapping slowly, "And the koi thinks itself a dragon in it's pond."

Mr Adan claps alongside him, "Well said, and well fought. It seems you weren't exaggerating, Mr Silver. I don't believe I heard you activate a Skill?"

"He didn't," Miss Dawn Waker shakes her head firmly, "Only Mr Oscars used a Skill, not that it did him a great deal of good. It would appear that at the very least the purported failsafe is functional at least, or else he would have a rather telltale divot smashed into his skull."

"So it would appear," Mr Solar Breath snorts, "I was hoping for a more even fight, but it was entertaining in it's own way."

"Indeed," Miss Dawn Waker smiles wryly, "Does anyone else want to try their hand?"

"I think..." Mr Adan makes a face as if he's constipated, "I'd be better off grinding some more Levels first."

She giggles in response, and he blushes from embarrassment at the confession, "Smart choice, I say."

"...If I could have your attention," I clear my throat and spare a withering glance for the muttering swordsman squatting demoralised next to me, "I don't believe there's anything left to discuss, and before you ask, we have yet to confirm the status of the items discussed with the Pavillion of Myriad Dao, Miss Dawn Waker. We will be in contact ourselves in the event there is business to discuss."

Miss Dawn Waker tilts her head to signal acceptance, "I would still not consider this a wholly wasted trip."

"Hey!" the Luvopen, rallying, grabs on to my wrist, tugging, "What the fuck is your Level?!"

"Bigger than yours."

IdleFancy

It has come to my attention that I've been subconsciously substituting Firmament (The name of the primary continent Truthseekers is currently on an entire species is named after for crying out loud, me) for Foundation (????) in recent chapters. For reasons unknown.

If you notice me doing it again at any point, please yell at me so my dumb lizard brain can fix it.

Thank you.