“Have you ever ventured into Ar’Kendrithyst to deliver information on Spur’s Incani population to the neighboring town of Frontier, or any other human settlement?”

Hera’s questions had gotten progressively more esoteric as the interview turned from ‘some questions’ into an hour long interrogation, with more than a few of her inquiries asked in subtlety different ways than she had before. When it looked like the interview would take more than two minutes, Erick suggested they move to the couch nearby. Hera agreed. Now it seemed like he was stuck to the couch, forever forced to answer the same damn questions over and over. Erick hoped that his torture would be over soon.

“No. I have never been in Ar’Kendrithyst or delivered information to any humans, anywhere.”

The stone in Hera’s hand glowed pink, meaning that Erick had lied somewhere along the way.

Hera eyed him.

“Uh. I have never been in Ar’Kendrithyst.”

Green stone.

“I have never delivered information to any humans in Frontier.”

Green stone.

“I have never delivered information to any humans anywhere.”

Pink stone—

“OH! Right. I probably delivered a lot of non-Veird information to many humans back on Earth through the years.” He went back to answering Hera’s question, “I have never delivered any information on any incani anywhere to any humans on Veird, except for to my daughter Jane. You know… Because they’re out to kill us.”

Green stone, throughout.

Hera wrote down notes onto a pad of paper she used for the interview. She wrote for a full minute. She straightened her back. “Final question—”

Oh thank god.

“Do you know last night’s Sewerhouse intruders, what they wanted, or anything about them, at all?”

“They attacked fast, but Savral and Bacci responded fast, too. They saved our lives. That’s all I know about what happened last night, except that the attackers used some green fireballs that caused Decay, which I already described to you. And I almost died.” He added, “The intruders might have come for the rads? I honestly don’t know.”

Green stone.

Hera put away her interview equipment, saying, “Thank you for your time, Mister Flatt. If only all my victims were this easy to talk to.”

“Victims?” Erick chuckled. He felt annoyed and angry after an hour of questions, but he wouldn’t call himself a victim. It wasn’t that bad. “You make yourself sound sinister.” But maybe she meant what she said?

“Ah. That’s not what… You’re right.” Hera moved to the back of the room, heading toward the other three interviews she had to give. “I hope Spur treats you better than it has.”

Erick laid down on the couch while Hera walked downstairs. The interview was over!

… Now he had to wait for all the others to finish.

Damn.

He almost fell asleep on the couch, right there and then, but someone cleared their throat across the room. Oh. Right. Bluescale was still there. Wasn’t he in a trance, staring at the ceiling? When did that stop?

Felair said, “[Witness] revealed you’re all innocent of any wrongdoing, and that’s what I’m telling Merit. The Mage Guild is going to bitch, claim you should have defended the Sewerhouse, but they’re idiots. They weren’t here.” He moved toward the back of the room, muttering, “And that fool child needs to [Scry] already but she can’t help gnawing on a secret.”

Erick barely watched as Felair descended the stairs. His eyes were already closed.

Naps are wonderful.

- - - -

Jane poked him awake, saying, “They’re gone and we’re done, Dad. Let’s go get lunch. Al’s buying.”

“I most certainly am!” Al said. “You all did great last night and deserve a reward.”

Erick stomach rumbled. Lunch was a great idea.

Al treated them to a restaurant meal in the Orcol District. The prices were huge. The meal was massive. The people all around him were so beautiful, and so tall, that Erick had to keep his eyes down at the food the whole time. They ate a lot, and it was quite good, but if asked to describe his meal, Erick would have flubbed something about ‘good meat’ and ‘nice atmosphere’.

Al introduced Jane and Erick to several remarkably pretty people. Jane might later recognize whoever they talked to, but Erick could only hope that he hadn’t embarrassed himself by openly staring.

Every single orcol was a physical masterpiece. Beautiful shades of cream-green, to ebony-green, to forest green, with luxurious hair, piercing eyes of every color from red to blue to black, tiny and cute fangs or big and menacing fangs, sharp jaws and firm asses, and muscles and breasts and—

When lunch was over, Erick was thankful that he hadn’t made an ass of himself. Or, if he had, that no one had mentioned his wandering gaze.

It wasn’t till they were one street away from the Sewerhouse that Erick noticed something slightly different in his Status.

Erick Flatt

Human, age 48

Level 9, Class: None

Exp: 247/5500

Class: -/-

Points: 8

HP

90/90

150 per day

MP

532/532

532 per day

Strength

9

+0

[9]

Vitality

15

+0

[15]

Willpower

20

+0

[20]

Focus

20

+0

[20]

He checked his notices and— Yup! There it was.

Congratulations!

You have grown Stronger

+1 Strength!

“I got plus 1 Strength from that meal.”

Al laughed loud, patting him on the back, almost sending him sprawling to the ground.

Savral laughed too, saying, “Only took a hundred gold of monster meat.”

Erick paled.

Al just laughed again, saying, “You all survived! Be happy!”

- - - -

“Hey, Jane? Have you seen our cellphones?”

They were back at the sewerhouse, preparing to move on to do their own things for the rest of the day, which mostly meant giving Jane most of the gold Al gave him so she wouldn’t have to immediately go out and risk her life killing monsters. Erick liked it that way.

But he did not like that look she was giving him right now.

Jane stared at him. “You didn’t.”

A chill crept up Erick’s spine. Jane’s eyes were filled with an icy fury.

“I took it… out…” He took his phone out of his pants the night before last, and never put it back on his person. The batteries were dead. It was dead weight. Why would he want to carry it around? Besides, the Sewerhouse was a pretty safe location. “Uh.”

Jane deflated, crashing her ass onto the couch. “You lost it, didn’t you.”

“Neither of us have our wallets either so—”

“Wallets are just paper and IDs that don’t matter! Our phones are actual technology!”

“They’re dead weight! I didn’t even consider that it might be lost until now!”

Erick waited for her to say something. She turned to stare at the wall.

“It’s okay, Dad.” Jane sighed, her fury ebbing away. “I still have mine. It might be dead weight but it’s never left my pocket. I couldn’t find much from home in the wreckage of last night. I had hoped you would keep yours on your person too. There are photos on there. Music. Books and more. But I guess that doesn’t matter.”

Thinking about it like that… That wasn’t a viewpoint Erick considered. He never really took pictures with his phone… Or did anything with it that Jane apparently did.

“I’m sorry, Jane.”

“I hoped to use them to talk to each other, too, someday. Find a spell to utilize whatever was already there… So while I’m off wherever and you’re somewhere else we can still talk to each other. Maybe you’d stay here? Maybe we move to another city? I don’t want to go to Frontier or to any human city, though. Military service is mandatory for humans. So Spur is good. But our phones! I… I had hoped…”

I’m sorry, Jane.

“Oh!” Jane looked up. She smiled wide. She said, “Irogh duplicated my D&D book! He might be able to do that for my cellphone.” Relief washed over her. “He probably won’t, but that’s okay. If the magic exists at all I might be able to duplicate my cellphone on my own some day.” She looked away. “Though ‘duplicate’ doesn’t appear when I search the Script.”

And just like that, Jane was full of joy. Her enthusiasm washed over Erick and he smiled.

Jane muttered, “Too bad I can’t seem to find anything I want in the Script.”

Erick had searched the Script for abilities he might want to use, too, but nothing ever jumped out at him, screaming ‘PICK ME PICK ME’. All of it looked rather bland, truthfully.

There were the basic damage spells in all varieties; beam, cone, missile, expanding wave, etcetera, and of course your telekinesis and your other fantasy mumbo jumbo, like [Conjure Weapon] and [Conjure Armor]. Erick only really knew about all that fantasy junk because Jane loved her D&D, and he wanted to be a part of her life. He wasn’t an expert on the genre at all, but he knew enough to know that some staples were clearly missing from the Script’s searchable database of skills.

Where was [Fly]? Where was [Turn into Toad], or whatever they called it around here? Where was [Create Food] and [Create Water]? Where was [Create Illusion]?

You know… Flying would be pretty cool.

Erick asked, “Have you come across [Fly] somewhere in the script?”

“No.” Jane sighed, loud. “I’m guessing [Fly] is one of the ‘Old Wizard’ spells, and has been reduced to its component parts strewn throughout the Script. Maybe it’s sort of self-[Ward], combined with some other skills. Anti-gravity? I don’t know, Dad.”

“Oh. Right. Combining magic.”

Erick was almost disgusted by magic all over again. It was too formulaic! It was too numerical! But that was how this reality functioned. So Erick played around with the Script for a moment, thinking how to make a good [Fly] spell. Soon, he was poking at a blue box in front of him that read [Telekinesis].

Telekinesis 1, instant, self, 10 MP

Slowly move minor objects around you for 1 minute per level of the spell.

Purchase for 1 point? Yes/No

No.

“How about [Telekinesis] and a personal [Ward]? Not level 1, obviously.”

Jane read the air in front of her. She said, “Might be.” She cocked her head. “1 minute per spell level seems useful, too. Maybe I’ll take [Telekinesis]… after I ask Al.”

“Ask Al about what?” Al poked his head into the room. “I couldn’t help but overhear spell talk.”

Jane said, “[Telekinesis] and a personal [Ward]. Would that make [Fly]?”

Al stepped into the room, moving to the empty couch, saying, “You’d want a personal anti-gravity [Ward] tuned to negate whatever of your own weight you’re comfortable with, as well as a level 10 [Telekinesis]. This is so that you can move quickly and hover without concentrating on holding yourself in a hover. A good version of the spell would cost somewhere between 100 and 150 mana and last 20 or so minutes.”

Erick stepped out of the room, saying, “That’s all great to know. See you later.”

“Before you go!”

Erick stepped back into the room.

Al said, “Before you go, I need to ask you two something. Are you two interested in living in the Sewerhouse? I’m redoing the whole thing and I could add a third floor. It would mean you would be here for any future attacks. I offer this to all of my apprentices when I feel that they have what it takes to go the distance, but they usually turn me down.”

Erick looked to Jane. “Thoughts?”

“Thank you, Al. You’ve been very kind to us. But I want to live off my own power.” Jane stood. “I think… I need to start killing monsters today.”

Damn. So she was going to start today? Erick wasn’t happy about that, but he kept that thought to himself. He said, “Thank you for your hospitality, Al, but I can’t go through an attack like that again.” Erick said, “I agree with what Jane is saying, too.”

“Had to ask.” Al smiled. “But, Jane, don’t go anywhere just yet. Let’s talk magic. Warriors are boring. No one should be a warrior. You should be a Scion of Focus, like your father! I’d even grudgingly accept Scion of Willpower, but warriors are a terrible option. I was so disappointed when Savral chose to go that route.”

Jane sat right back down, ready to debate. “I’m already considering what you’ve said about Scion of Focus, but what I really want to talk about is spell creation. I have ideas for many spells that, as far as I can see, just don’t exist.”

“This is also a good topic.” Al leaned back in his couch, getting comfortable.

As Jane verbalized possible spells and how to get them, Al honed her ideas, not-so-subtly weaving in his own ideas regarding Scion of Focus. Erick quickly decided that the whole thing was ‘too magical for him’ and hiked up the stairs. The rainbow shine of the front room greeted him with the warm glows and vibrant colors of almost two dozen malformed light orbs, but he left that behind too, as he stepped out onto the street. He turned south, headed toward the Mage Guild.

And yes, he was aware of the irony of fleeing a conversation about magic, only to pursue a conversation about magic in a different location.

- - - -

The Mage Guild District was glitter and luxury. Everything was done in grey-brown stone with huge clear windows, with [Ward] lights on every corner illuminating well-tended streets. The Mage’s District was a part of town that was not half-deserted, like the Adventurer’s Guild District, but it was also a quarter the size. There weren’t many people on the street, though the alchemist shops and general stores and magical item emporiums were all active, with people either milling through aisles of herbs, or speaking to people behind counters.

The Mage Guildhouse itself was a building half-again the size of the surrounding buildings, with a tasteful placard of gold script on black metal prominently displayed in front, reading ‘Mage’s Guildhouse; City of Spur’. Two towers composed the majority of the structure, one reaching at least ten stories into the sky, the other barely poking above the slate roofs of the neighborhood. The front double doors stood open, cool air flowing out onto the street, showing an interior that was the same grey-brown stone as the exterior, and the rest of the Mage District. Now that he noticed, the stone here was slightly greyer than most of Spur. Were all the districts made of different stone? That was kinda weird.

Erick ran his fingers through his hair then patted his clothes, hoping that he was—

There were stains on his shirt.

[Cleanse].

A personal burst of thick air washed over Erick, transforming dirt and stains into nothing.

Feeling much better, he walked forward into the Mage Guildhouse.

There were a lot of things to see inside. From the dragonkin children in robes rushing up a staircase, calling out that they were going to be late, to a pair of greybeard orcols poking at magic over a table in the sun, to a ‘bank teller’ area where two paper pushing dragonkin called ‘next!’ to a waiting line of people. There were several people in another ‘lobby-type’ area, with two large wooden placards prominently displayed on a large wall that were absolutely covered in small pieces of paper. This place looked like an active business as well as something of a school.

And right in front of Erick, was the receptionist’s counter. A pair of women sat behind the counter, one an iron-flesh wrought in the shape of an incani with medium-sized backswept horns, the other a purple incani with upturned horns. The actual-incani gave Erick a dirty look as he approached the counter. The wrought frowned at the incani’s reaction, then backhanded the incani’s shoulder in a friendly sort of way.

Erick stepped to the counter. The incani had already put on her most professional face.

“Welcome to the Mage’s Guildhouse, sir. How may I help you?”

“Hello. I’m interested in both a bank account and getting some wardlight work. Or any other jobs you may have? I’m not sure how any of this works; I’ve never had an experience with a mage guild before.”

“Of course. To join the Mage’s Guild and to use our banking services we require a 50 gold—”

The wrought’s playful slap of the incani’s shoulder was less playful this time.

“Ow,” said the incani, not actually hurt, her face full of barely restrained anger.

“Take a break.”

The incani stood up and walked away, huffing as she straightened her back and sauntered out of sight through a doorway.

“Ah. Sorry.” Erick said, “I didn’t mean to offend her?”

“You and your daughter are making quakes, Mister Flatt, yet you haven’t been in town a single tenday.” said the iron-flesh not-incani. “Some would say too many quakes, but those of us who remember Old-Spur welcome the presence of strangers, and keep our judgments private until sufficient evidence has been presented.”

“It’s not my intention to cause problems.”

“We’ll see.” She said, “The bank isn’t here, though. That’s down on Merchant Street.” She pointed out the door. “Head to the Western Gate. Big building, you can’t miss it.” She raised her hands around her. “In this building we deal with schooling and mage work, but mostly schooling. Other than that, we’re pretty much exactly like an adventurer’s guildhouse, but we’re in tune with the interior economic heart of Spur, rather than the more combat oriented, monster jobs you’d find in an adventurer’s guildhouse. When someone wants some intermittent mage work done they come here and post a ‘help wanted’ ad for a single silver, detailing pay and expectations. Usually, the job is completed to satisfaction, following the laws of the surrounding town and the etiquette required of all guild mages. To accept a job, you must be certified to accept that type of work.

“Mending is the easiest of certifications, tied with Cleansing. You only need to have the skill. Lightwork is a common request but it’s hard to break into that scene. Most of the prominent listings from our better clients have artists they contract directly. This includes the public lightwork requests issued by Spur.

Her cavalier attitude turned a bit menacing, in a polite yet firm way. “All itinerant and intermittent mage work in a city with a Mage Guild is handled by the Guild, and requires 1 silver to go through the Mage Guild, one way or another.” She switched emotions. She was all iron smiles as she said, “That’s the basic rundown. Guild signup is 5 silver. This bookwork fee is non-negotiable.

“Would you like to sign up as a guild member? This is the only way you’re allowed to do non-permanent, non-apprentice mage work in this city.”

“Uhh.” Erick shrugged his shoulder, then put on a happy face. “Yes! I do.”

“Very good! My name is Anhelia, nice to meet you.” She glanced down at something behind the counter, then looked over Erick’s shoulder. There was a big clock there, above the entrance door. “You can have a seat in the lobby.” She pressed something under the lip of the counter. “I’ve just rung the intake officer. They’ll be with you shortly.”

Erick nodded. “Thanks.”

He wandered over to the lobby area, but did not get a chance to sit down before an orangescale dragonkin arrived from behind the front desk. The newcomer talked to Anhelia, who pointed out Erick.

Orangescale walked over to Erick, saying, “You?”

“Me!”

“Come on then. I’m Tamarim.” They walked through the lobby, then under an archway that separated the front rooms of the guildhouse from a two story hallway with rooms on each side, and a tall picture window at the end. Tamarim opened the second door on the right, on the first floor. Erick couldn’t see how anyone could access the second floor. “In here.”

Tamarim went in first. Erick followed.

The room was basic stone, twenty by twenty feet, maybe ten feet tall, with a window opposite the entrance. Several simple chairs were stacked in the corner by a short, mobile desk. Tamarim moved the table away from the wall then set down two chairs, one on each side of the table, before pulling out a sheet of paper and a pencil.

Tamarim sat down, ready to write. “Name?”

“Erick Flatt.”

“What certifications are you trying for?”

“Uh. [Mend], [Cleanse], and lightward work, but I’m not very good with lightwards yet, so I’m not sure what sort of qualifications I’m going to need. Or… Where to go from here.”

Tamarim nodded, checking off boxes on his paper, then scribbling something else down.

“What—”

Tamarim said, “The first two I don’t need to certify. If it turns out you’re a liar, then you’re in for a bad time. Though for lightwork, I need to see something. Give me a few of your best and one of your worst.”

“… okay.”

Erick moved toward the center of the room then began casting, exactly how he had a few hours ago, trying to recreate that faux-cut-crystal orb. He burst 20 mana into [Ward] and started Mana Shaping for 30 at the same time, creating the basic structure of his lightward. He poured mana in to the spell in 1 point increments, flowing around a blob of white light, like grains of sand rushing around a glittering sphere cotton candy, pulling stray threads of light into a better form.

A surface formed, hard-looking as glass but soft as an illusion. Still, he poured mana into the [Ward], shaping a dozen cuts in the surface all at the same time, twisting the carving around the whole, leaving behind a pattern of perfect geometry. The color shifted from white, then kept shifting. He thought to hold the color to white, but he knew as soon as he thought to do that, the whole thing would mess up.

Which it did.

65 mana spent, this [Ward] was a failure.

Tamarim asked, “Were you trying for a lumpy pink and orange shadowolf?”

Erick tilted his head at the lightward. “Shadowolves look like that?”

“PFFFT.” Tamarim snorted. “In an unrealistic cute sort of way.”

“No… I was not going for that.”

“Keep going.”

The next orb was a 75 mana perfect glass sphere with cut lines and radiant white light.

But the sphere itself was invisible.

Shit.

“Invisible light source is an interesting choice,” Tamarim said. “Continue?”

The next lightorb was an attempt at a 35 mana [Ward 3], with no Mana Shaping. It was an orb of green sludge that actively dripped onto the ground. The drips vanished after a second. The main sludgeball did not.

“Are you trying for an artistic wardlight license?” Tamarim said, “Because that’s not a thing you can get certified for. You get noticed by patrons and they give you work. That’s how that works.”

Erick grumbled, then tried again.

52 mana, a half-baked idea, and a quarter time spent shaping the mana, produced a fractured crystal of daylight that was like looking at the sun through a splintered mirror.

Tamarim leaned back in his chair. The incani from the front desk was leaning against the doorframe. She sniffed, then walked away. Tamarim, though, he looked interested.

“I like it.” He said, “I like it a lot.” He quickly added, “But nothing I’ve seen qualifies you for lightorb work. Would you like to keep trying?”

“I got more in me than that.”

“I’m sure you do, but if I can’t see you produce three perfect sunlight orbs in a row I’m not qualifying you for lightwork.”

“… Fair. I still got levels to go on [Ward] anyway, so this isn’t a waste of time. Not for me, anyway.”

“Your [Ward] isn’t capped?”

“Only level 6 right now. Why? Does that do anything for me?”

“Probably not.” Tamarim waved toward the empty space in the room. “Keep going?”

“Yes.”

45 mana, most of an end-goal thought, and half crafting time, made a perfect sunlight orb.

“Huh.”

“Very good then,” Tamarim said. “Two more to go.”

45 mana, most of an end-goal thought, and half crafting time, made a blacklight. The sclera of Erick’s eyes shone purple, the white of his shirt glowed purple, even his jeans took on a purple tint.

“Of course,” Erick said. “The exact opposite of what I was going for.”

“Well that’s an odd one. Don’t do another. Just— One minute.” Tamarim left the room.

Erick waited.

Tamarim returned with Anhelia in tow. She glanced at a few of Erick’s lightorbs, but stopped on the fractured sun and the blacklight. She moved from one to the other, not sure which interested her more.

But what interested Erick was that the blacklight turned Anhelia into a glowing purple person.

“Hmm,” she said.

Anhelia walked around, half of her iron body soaking in the sun, the other half fluorescing purple.

“Dismiss the rest, except for these two.”

Erick went and did as she asked. As each competing light source vanished, the effect of the fractured sun and the blacklight increased. Before, she was grey-black with yellow highlights and a purple side. Now she was black with gold highlights and a radiant purple shadow. She looked amazing.

“Okay. These are beautiful.” Anhelia turned to Erick, looking the part of a demonic goddess. “You don’t qualify for lightorb work, but this is good anyway. If you can duplicate any of these lights you’ve just made, you will have people asking for your light orbs across the world. But I don’t think you can, because almost no one can actually make these things. Over the next twenty four hours we will be dissecting these orbs to figure out how you made them. If we can, you will be well compensated.” She frowned. “Don’t get your hopes up. They look like random chance masterpieces. These things happen.”

She turned toward the blacklight orb, her horns shining purple in the light. She sighed.

Tamarim said, “If you wish to continue the examination we will do so in another room.”

“Uh! Yeah. Let’s do that. I still got mana.”

40 mana produced a sunlight orb.

42 mana produced a sunlight orb.

41 mana produced a misty grey orb that screamed. Erick didn’t know how it was screaming. Neither did Tamarim. Light orbs were not supposed to make noise! Erick dismissed that orb as soon as Tamarim pronounced it a failure, which was exactly 10 second too late to stop other people from investigating the room.

Anhelia said, “I don’t know how you did that, but wardlights should not scream.”

“I’m not even capped at the skill. I have no idea how that happened!”

“Okay. So. It’s cute how you think that that is supposed to be an answer to how you caused an impossible thing. But it’s not.” She left the room as quickly as she arrived, saying, “I don’t think that was a [Ward 3] at all!”

Tamarim turned on Erick. “Was that something other than a [Ward 3]?”

“It was a [Ward 3]! I wasn’t even using Mana Shaping for the last lot.” Erick deflated. He wasn’t low on mana, but he was already tired. “I’ve gone through five mana pools today. I’m done.”

Tamarim nodded. “Okay.” He scribbled on the paper he had been writing on, then handed it to Erick. “This is your filled out form. Hand this into one of the receptionists up front and pay your fee, and we can come back to this lightorb certification some other day.” He pointed at the two floating sunlight orbs Erick had managed to make. “You’re very close. You were almost at 3 in a row. You can dismiss them now.”

Erick waved his hand and his certification failures vanished.

- - - -

Erick turned in the paperwork and waited half an hour to be called over to the receptionist. The bronzescale girl behind the counter handed him a silverish metal token that looked like a dogtag, with his name on one side and his guild number on the back. ‘SPR-179b105-1317’ was the only understandable part of the number, the rest of it was a swirling design that flowed around the entirety of the badge.

“The badge costs an extra 3 silver, for a total of 8 silver today,” she said. “Would you like to purchase a chain to turn the token into a necklace? This is an extra 2 silver.”

They always get you with the upcharges, don’t they?

“Sure”, he said, annoyed, but trying not to show it.

He slid the receptionist a gold; she slid him the badge on a thin silver chain.

“The Mend-Cleanse-Light job board is that one over there. You’re only certified for the first two portions of that board.” Bronzescale pointed to a large wooden panel on the side of the lobby, lined roughly into thirds. It was absolutely covered in tiny pieces of paper, affixed to the panel with tiny tacks. Three people were currently reading from the board. Next to that was another wooden panel of roughly the same size. “The one beside the MCL Board is the Esoteric Board. Skills the requester thinks you’re going to need are listed with the most prominent skill first. The whole thing is alphabetical, but most listings this time of year are for [Grow]. Preservation [Ward]s are always popular, too, but not quite popular enough for the MCL Board to become the MCLP Board.” Bronzescale smiled. “Good luck! Welcome to the guild, Erick.”

After perusing the MCL board for a bit, and picking out a job, it was time to open a bank account.

- - - -

Opening a bank account was a non-event, thanks to his Mage Guild membership. Still cost him 1 silver to open the account, though. The Mage Guild liked their silver.

- - - -