Metropolis - Capsule Bay 28 - Unit 10

Sunday, May 10th, 2089 | 9:51am

[Status: In-Game]

Aya looked at the clock and took her first unburdened breath in what felt like days. Donovan would be online in less than an hour; he was the missing piece on the board. If he agreed to his part in her plan, she would be able to pull it all together. She would be able to get rid of Nelson’s debts and hopefully raise her rank in Goldilocks. If everything worked as she intended, it would have the added benefit of teaching Serving Time a lesson. A slow smirk spread across her lips as she once again activated her Scribe skill. It really would be nice to get back at them but she had to admit revenge had barely crossed her mind since the moment she read Nelson’s Contract. Compared to his debt, a grudge over a she-said-I-said argument was trivial. As Aya’s hand glided over the paper, completing yet another commissioned Contract, her mind went over the events that brought her to where she was.

The moment she finally read Nelson’s Contract changed everything. She found out he had a fortune in property. Unfortunately, it was all set as collateral for a debt he had somehow accrued, a debt of 700,000 gold. Which was now, by process of Contract, all hers. At first, she’d been unable to react. She sat there, paralyzed, for what felt like hours. Eventually, Henry had squawked, reminding her that what was done, was done. It was the attitude she’d taken after her parents death and it was the attitude she would take now.

Hours in the Vault had taught her that she wasn’t going to get away from the Contract she had signed, so she might as well come to terms with it. She decided to think of a solution, if there was one to be had, after she buried the man. One step at a time. Pulling the wagon to Nelson’s house didn’t long. The Contract showed her exactly where it was, as well as all his other possessions. She dragged him off of it and took the wagon in the direction of her hidden stash. It turned out it wasn’t so hidden after all; the Contract also labeled the abandoned hut as one of Nelson’s possessions.

Aya picked up her picks and made her way back to Nelson’s house. In his backyard, she funnelled all the aggression she’d bottled up into digging his grave. It probably ended up being a little deeper than necessary. Before rolling him in, she went through his pockets. The man didn’t have a single copper on him but Aya did find two puzzling items. One was an old wooden instrument, somewhere between a flute and a harmonica, the other was a golden key. Its handle was shaped like the leathery feathers she had come to know.

The body landed in the hole with a dull thump. Feeling a little guilty for mishandling a dead man, she climbed down and arranged his body in a resting position, hands crossed over his middle section. Aya then took out all of the cloths and furs she’d laid out for him and used them as a cover layer. Not knowing what else to do, she climbed out, crossed herself, and started shoving dirt back into the grave. It was grueling work and but the physical exhaustion curbed her irritation at her newfound circumstances.

As her body worked, her mind wandered to the key. The contract had an extensive list of the man’s possessions, basically everything she would lose if she wasn’t able to pay back the loan, but she hadn’t come across a safe or anything that might need a key. Curious, she decided to investigate the house once she’d paid her respects.

She stood in front of the door, bathed in sweat, grime and dust, still panting from the strenuous activity of burying a dead man. Henry was at her side as she shoved the door open. The hinges didn’t squeak, they broke and the door crashed down, almost taking the frame with it. Aya jumped back as the entire house shook under the impact. Dust came loose from every surface, rushing out in every any direction it could. She turned to avoid as much of it as she could, but it was too late. Dust went into her eyes, mouth and nose. Her eyes watered and her lungs burned as she bent over, trying to cough it out.

When it finally settled, and she didn’t feel like she was about to asphyxiate, she turned around and took in the wreck that was the house. Parts of the roof were completely caved in, letting rays of the glaring sun into the house. Around the caved-in parts she saw signs of water damage, which she did not understand until she remembered the fact that they were in a drought. The arid climate she had already gotten used to in Era wasn’t actually common for the area. As she took it in, she gingerly entered the house, conscious of the creaking floorboards beneath her feet. She was ready for the whole structure to come crashing down upon her at any minute but she was determined to find Nelson’s books before she gave up.

She went by room after abandoned room, a living room, a dining room, a guest room, a broom closet and a kitchen until she surrendered to the fact she would have to chance the second floor. Going up the stairs was the worst part; she took each step as slowly as she could, putting her whole foot down flat, trying to disperse her weight as much as possible. Henry, on the other hand, jumped ahead with abandon, like he was finally home. It took her until she reached the top of the stairs, some five minutes later, to realize it was probably the case.

The bird was nowhere to be found by the time she reached the second floor but, following the tracks he left behind in the dust, she found him in what looked like a library/study. The sheer number of volumes that lined the shelves rivaled even the library room she’d been stuck in. An image of the old drunk came to her mind and she just couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea that he was the same person that possessed so many books. With a twinge of guilt at the thought, she hurried over to the desk to do what she’d actually come in for.

The chair behind the desk looked to be in good condition, all things considered, so Aya took her chances and sat down carefully. Her care was ruined when Henry jumped out from underneath the desk, startling her enough to jerk her into the seat. The high-backed wooden chair survived without even creaking and she sighed in relief, knowing that at least one thing wouldn’t crumble into dust at her touch.

Aged and yellowed papers littered the desk and the area around it. It was quite obvious that no one had been in the room in quite some time, with the layers of dust covering every surface, including the pages. But, underneath all the negligence, there were signs of abandoned wealth. A handful of fountain pens was scattered about in a disrupted row. They were luxuries; she knew this because in all the hours she’d spent in the Vault, she’d only seen two of the Seniors use them. Everyone else, including her, had to do with what was given to them, quills. Quills were not fun; because you had to keep dipping them, and tend them carefully, everyone would much rather have fountain pens. The fact that they didn’t gave her an idea as to their cost.

There were other signs of prosperity scattered about the room: the gilted edges on pages around the shelves, the tinted mosaic border around the window and even the fact that the chair hadn’t immediately collapsed beneath her. The house looked like it hadn’t been tended to in decades, at least twenty years, at least to her eyes; she wondered if the answer lay in one of the pages scattered about.

She got to work in sorting them but not before she located a stack of still-usable pages and used her Scribe skill to knock out a Basic Contract. Ever since she left the Vault, she’d known she was going to be relying on Contract production for money, but the 700,000 gold debt and monthly interest she had to pay on it just reinforced the fact that she had no time to waste. So, every five minutes or so, when her Scribe skill was ready to be used again, she took time away from riffling through pages to write out a contract.

Most of the pages were about finances, which was exactly what she was looking for. Coincidentally, it was also what she was good at. A couple of pages in, Aya realized she was missing most of the accounts. There were various references to ledgers but she found them in a locked drawer she coincidentally had a key to before she could even start fretting about it. There were three large ledgers and a small leather-bound book that turned out to be a diary. Aya’s curiosity was piqued but she put it away for later when she realized whose it was. First, she needed to find out how the money was being made, then if the numbers didn’t speak like they should, she would turn to the diary. But first, out of respect and a little human decency, she decided not to invade the man’s most private thoughts just a few hours after his death.

It took her a while, but eventually, she finished going through everything as thoroughly as she could, given the time constraint. The history of the business was quite simple: the man had sold LayHen eggs. Nelson had started it in what must have been his early twenties. He kept records of his LayHens and what went into caring for them. Over time, his enterprise grew in size but the profit margin didn’t look like it could support the lifestyle he had obviously led at some point.

Then, six years later, the profits soared overnight, as if somebody flipped a switch. He expanded and expanded over the next decade and the profits just kept getting bigger. Then again, almost as if from day to night, twenty-two years ago, the profits dropped back to their original margins, the only difference being the number of LayHens.

The records were kept for another year or so after the drop, but then, they just stopped. Not a single number was filled in. Aya wondered why Nelson had given up from one day to another. Even with the unexplained drop in profits, he was still making a profit. He was clearly in the black, there was no…

“Oh…” she muttered aloud.

The debt. She remembered seeing a loan being taken out at some point. It had been quite a substantial loan but she’d understood it. It had been at the beginning of a new wave of profits, some ten years into the operation, right before a major expansion. From a business perspective, it was a very smart move. She thought he would have paid back the loan by the time his profits tanked, but when she checked again, she realized he had been just short of doing so. Aya cringed when she saw just how close.

Going through the interest payments more carefully, she was able to work out why the accounting had just stopped one day. They’d finally gotten too big for him to cover with his profits. The only puzzle pieces missing were the profit surge and drop. Aya tapped her fingers on the dusty table as she considered the situation. Her eyes took in the room with its books, and she noticed for the first time that one of the shelves had broken. The books were jammed together like cars in a junkyard. It pained her to see books like that but she had more important things to do than play maid for a dead man. Her eyes were pulled back to the small book in front of her, Nelson’s diary.

Her conscience told her not to, but logic told her the secret to his profit might be in there. After going through the ledgers, she couldn’t help but be a little hopeful that she could turn things around. Without knowing the secret to his previous success, that hope would be fruitless. She checked the forums and everything; there was no information about LayHen eggs being sold anywhere. As a matter of fact, there was no information about LayHens having any use whatsoever.

Aya sighed, disturbing some dust in the process. Her hand came up in a practiced motion, covering her nose and mouth until it settled. She squared her shoulders and glared at the diary until her timer reminded her to knock out another contract. The pile of finished contracts was growing, fifteen to be exact. Her eyes sparkled, thinking of their net worth. At 10 gold a piece, 150 gold. Her lip twitched when she worked out the low margin. At 5 gold a piece, 75 gold. Her lips tightened when she remembered the librarian’s cut. 2 gold a piece, 30 gold. She sighed again just thinking of the low margin of that. One gold a piece, 15 gold.

480 gold. Her brows furrowed. That was the number she had to reach by the end of the day, and that was only to meet the interest payment. At this rate, she’d end up at the bottom of a bottle in no time, just like Nelson. Frowning, she sat up and leaned forward, snatching the diary from the table with such force that she dislodged a whole layer of dust. She paid the dust no heed, instead, snapping open the diary to read.

Half an hour later, with tears in her eyes, she closed it. She hadn’t finished it, but she’d read enough. She was stunned, speechless in fact. Catching her bearings, she got up and walked to the broken shelf. Aya took down all of the toppled books, then rearranged the ones on the bottom shelf. After making sure the books weren’t arranged in any particular order that she could tell, she distributed the books from the broken shelf across other shelves in the room. Finally, she came back to the broken shelf. It was broken in half and was never going to be able to take any weight but she took the two halves and fit them together anyway, sliding the wood back into its grooves.

She took the tallest book she could find and shoved it on the lower shelf, right below the break. It wasn’t needed to hold the two halves together but it made her feel better. Aya stepped back and analyzed her work. If she didn’t know better, she wouldn’t have noticed anything wrong with the shelf, except for the fact that it had no books with it. Crossing her arms, she eyed it a moment longer before walking back to the desk and picking up the diary. She then returned to the broken shelf and placed it there.

It looked lonely, just like Nelson’s story after his wife’s death.

It was the saddest thing she’d ever read, but it had also finally, finally shown her that there might be a light at the end of the tunnel. Ever since Aya had first step foot into Era, it seemed like everything was working against her. But here, here was something that had worked out extremely in her favor. She went through the list of unfortunate events that had led her to the present and realized that without them, she wouldn’t have this one good coincidence, the fact that Nelson had married a scribe.

Perhaps the bad things had happened for a reason, to lead her to where she was, she tried to reason. After all, it was a coincidence that might just solve everything. Okay, who was she kidding? They just happened because she had terrible luck. But, for once, it looked like her luck had changed.

Then again… 700,000.