The Caravan Master looked into the pillowcase Bruce offered him and smirked. He was a short dark man with coarse black hair and a thick beard decorated with colorful scraps of fabric. He wore a battered robe over his tunic and knee length pants and was the only one around not wearing shoes.

“You found all of this?” He said.

“Of course,” Bruce said. “Twenty pieces like you asked for. Count them if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe there are twenty,” The caravan master said. “But I don’t believe you collected them.”

“What difference does it make?” Bruce said. “You asked for shit and I’m giving you shit. Now do your part and cook breakfast, I’m starving.”

The caravan master shook his head and shoved the pillowcase back at Bruce. “I don’t like your attitude,” He said.

“And I don’t like being sent into the desert to fetch dung after I paid you three gold pieces to join your caravan,” Bruce said. “But I did it, didn't I?”

The caravan master grunted and turned his gaze on Meg as she and a Loong in lavender robes approached the fire pit. “Good morning Master Leroy,” He said, bowing his head.

The Loong next to Meg bowed his head in return and smiled. “We have fresh meat for breakfast,” He said.

“You are too kind Master Leroy,” The caravan master said.

“It is not my doing,” Leroy said. “The young dragon beside me has brought us this wonderful bounty.”

“Nothing too wonderful about it,” Meg said. “it’s only snake meat.”

“Snake meat?” Bruce said. “where in the realms did you find snake meat?”

Meg looked over her shoulder and gestured towards the camels. “I found a camel and her calf out in the desert. They were being attacked by snakes so I stepped in, killed the snakes and healed the calf.”

“That was very noble of you,” Master Leroy said.

“Not if you ask the snakes,” Meg said.

The smile on Master Leroy’s face faded and he looked down at the meat in his hands. “That is life is it not?” He said. “a constant struggle that inevitably ends in death. Seems hopeless doesn’t it?”

Meg shivered. His words had struck way too close to home for her comfort. “Maybe, but I’m not ready to give it up yet.”

“Excellent answer,” Master Leroy said. “I don’t believe we introduced ourselves. I am Master Deng Leroy of the Zhua Gou School.”

Meg bowed at the shoulders and smiled at him. “I am LadyStarBurstBlade,” She said. “But you can call me Meg for short. What kind of school do you teach?”

At the mention of his school Leroy’s eyes widened and sparkled with a hint of madness. “It is a small but prestigious school for the martial arts. We specialize in grappling and throwing. One week with me and you’ll be able to out wrestle the Grand Elder himself.”

“That sounds awesome,” Meg said. “How much does it cost?”

“Ten gold,” Master Leroy said.

Meg swallowed hard and looked into his dark eyes. He wasn’t kidding. For ten gold he had better be right about out wrestling the Grand Elder. “Are there any discount classes?” She said.

“Unfortunately, no,” He said. “Our rent is very high and my den mother always said never do what you love for free.”

A low growl interrupted them and Bruce looked at his stomach and blushed. “Can we continue this thrilling conversation over breakfast?” He said.

“A thousand apologies,” Master Leroy said. “I did not mean to hinder our morning routine.”

“Start the fire,” The caravan master said. “I will get the milk and rice.”

Bruce looked at his ruined pillow case then up at her. Meg rolled her eyes and took the sack from him. “Is there anything that you do?” Meg said.

Bruce stuck his nose up at her and said “I am a first class merchant, I can buy and sell any wares you put in front of me to any customer who comes into my shop. I do not cook or clean and I most certainly do not put up with rude employees.”

“And I don’t cook for rude bosses either,” She said.

She nudged him out of the way with her elbow and bent down in front of the fire pit. She opened the sack and picked six balls of dung out then assembled four of them into a square in the center of the pit. She sliced the two remaining turds open and spread them out like a roof over the base.

“Would you like my assistance?” Master Leroy said. “a little fire to kickstart things?”

It would have been easier to have him barbeque the hell out of her little shit house but then she wouldn’t get the XP for making a fire and she was never one to pass up easy XP.

“No I’ve got it,” She said.

“Your self sufficiency is admirable,” Master Leroy said.

“Is that a jab at me?” Bruce said.

“I am sure you have many skills and talents that are admirable as well,” Master Leroy said. “when you demonstrate them I will praise you for them.”

“Meg, is he insulting me?” Bruce said.

“I think so,” Meg said. “maybe, I don’t actually know.”

“It is not my intent to insult you,” Master Leroy said. “I shall leave the meat with the young dragon and help our leader gather the other ingredients.”

Master Leroy set the meat on one of the fat white rocks around the firepit and retreated from Bruce’s amicable aura. Meg dug through her pack until she found her flint and steel and worked at getting the shit house to burn. The first spark didn’t catch, nor did the second or third or even the fourth. Bruce hovered over her shoulder, his arms folded across his chest like a dad trying to read his kid’s text messages.

“Will this take long?” He said. “I’m peckish.”

Meg sighed and struck the flint and steel together again. The spark didn’t catch. “It takes as long as it takes,” She said. “How about you wait in Yueliang City until I get it to burn?”

Bruce groaned and rolled his eyes. “I wish I could go back there,” He said. “Having my head cut off might not be so bad compared to this desert.”

Meg struck the flint and steel again and glared at the dung hoping pure malice would light it ablaze. It didn’t. “That sounds juicy,” She said. “tell me more.”

“The contents of my life are not a tasty morsel of gossip for you to spread,” Bruce said.

“Who would I tell?” She said. “You’re the only person I know around here.”

Bruce sighed and rolled a pebble under his foot. “If you must know, a very dangerous criminal wants me dead.”

“That’s exciting,” She replied.

“Hardly,” He said. “one day this thug shows up and demands I pay him money. Called it protection. I thought that was hilarious. The only thing I needed protection from were all the men and women who wanted to marry me.”

“Ah a mob thing,” She said. “What did you do? Refuse to pay it and challenge him to a duel?”

“Please I would never lower myself to such a crude level,” Bruce said. “I seduced his fiance and then his sister. I was going to make a run at his mother to complete the trifecta but he caught onto my scheme and put a bounty on my head.”

“How high is the bounty?” Meg said.

Bruce’s eyebrow arched and he said “Don’t get any ideas my young pupil.”

“I’m just asking if he wants all of you as proof or if I could stick your head in this pillow case and collect the bounty,” Meg said.

“It’s a good thing you’re trying to get a merchant’s license because you are a lousy comedian,” Bruce said.

Her next spark caught and she smiled as pale grey smoke wafted from the top of her shit pile. She set the flint and steel aside and got down on her stomach and blew gently on the turds. The smoke drifted and danced and she blew again.

“Do you have to get so close to it?” Bruce said.

A small orange flame flickered into existence and Meg kept blowing. A second flame joined it and spread down to the base of the pile. Little by little the flames caught the dry grass inside the crap on fire. She added four extra balls to the tiny blaze and she watched it eat them up, adding more dung when it was needed.

START A FIRE:+3xp SURVIVAL

SURVIVAL SKILL:2(12/30) +1 SKILL POINT

Bruce leaned down and squinted at her little inferno. “You don’t think the food will taste like shit do you?” He said.

Meg stood up and brushed her hands off with sand and gave him the empty pillow case back. “Anything tastes good with ketchup,” She said.

“Be serious,” He said. “I can’t eat dung flavored meat!”

“Does it smell like shit?” Meg said.

Bruce leaned forward and took a deep sniff of the smoke and grimaced. “It smells like wood smoke.”

“There’s your answer,” She said.

Master Leroy returned with a bag of rice and a clay pot full of camel’s milk. Behind him the caravan master carried a deep pot and a folded up metal contraption she didn’t understand. He looked at the fire and grunted then shoved the pot at Bruce and went to work setting up his contraption. They stood back out of his way and watched as he unfolded a metal tripod and arranged it over the fire. He fussed with it for a moment then unraveled a net of chains from the top of the tripod.

“Put the pot in the basket,” He said.

Bruce looked at the pot and dropped it into the chain net and jumped back. “I almost burned myself,” He said.

“I think you will die in this desert,” the caravan master said.

“I’ll survive just to spite you,” Bruce replied.

“Master Leroy, could you pass me the camel’s milk?” Meg said.

“Oh certainly,” He said, bowing his head.

She bowed back and took the pot of milk from him then set it down on the rocks around the firepit. She grasped the round knob at the top and pried the lid loose then raised it up to the cooking pot and poured it in. When she had enough she put the lid back on and exchanged the milk for the bag of rice and dumped it into the pot.

The rice hit the milk with a soft plop and hiss and steam filled the air. “Do you have anything to stir this with?” She said.

The caravan master reached into his robe and took out a long hand carved spoon and gave it to her. She took it and moved the rice around in the milk, keeping it from burning and sticking to the bottom of the pot. Something tapped her on the shoulder and she looked up to see the caravan master offering her the handle of a knife.

“For the meat,” He said.

She thanked him and took the knife then motioned for Bruce to join her. “Stir the rice,” She said. “you’ll feel heat but it won’t burn you.”

“Can’t someone else do this?” Bruce muttered.

She grabbed him by the jacket and yanked him down to her level. He yelped and pulled back but she shook him and he gave up the struggle. “I help you and you help me,” She said. “otherwise you can go out and play with the snakes the next time we need fuel, got it?”

Bruce glared at her then sighed and threw up his hands. “Alright I’ll help you,” He said.

Meg put the spoon in his hand and started slicing the meat into small chunks. It was a tough cut of meat and there were a lot of tiny bones that needed to be plucked out but in the end the added flavor would be worth it.

She wished cooking was as fun and easy in the real world. Sometimes she thought if she could just organize and categorize everything at home she could cook as good as she could in the game but it never worked out that way. She would start out on the right track but eventually something would distract her or she would forget to set a timer and she would end up throwing the food out because it was burnt beyond recognition.

She hated wasting food and the money spent on it. It was just easier to order pizza or a burrito or go to a fast food place. Her mother always said that was a good way to develop a fat doughy midsection but at least takeout never left her feeling like a failure. And it never made her wash dishes after either.

With a heavy groan the caravan master crouched beside her and stared into the fire. “I had a man look at the herd,” He said. “He found tracks and signs of a scuffle and a single snake that had been stomped to death.”

Meg gathered a handful of meat and dumped it into the pot with the rice. “That was the mother camel’s doing,” She said. “it was too messed up to bring back.”

“Our camels depend on us as much as we depend on them,” He said. “They provide us with milk and hair for clothes, they carry our goods and alert us to danger. Without them my family and I would die a poor hungry death. For saving the camels and bringing meat to my fire I thank you. What is mine is yours. And if you wish to leave the Zhanglao, you will have work in my caravan.”

“Oh no you don’t, you filthy poacher. We have a contract,” Bruce said. He dug into the folds of his jacket and wrenched out a long narrow piece of paper with dark calligraphy over it. He shook it loose with both hands and waved it in front of the caravan master’s face. “She must work for me until she qualifies for a merchant’s license. If she breaks the contract she owes me five thousand gold!”

“Put that away and keep stirring or you’ll have to eat burnt rice,” Meg said.

“I say we leave him in the desert for the snakes,” the caravan master said.

Master Leroy threw up his hands. “Gentleman, please. Why don’t we cease this squabbling and agree to disagree with a little wine?”

The caravan master crossed his arms and looked away from all of them. “I will not waste good wine on a stuck up ass like him.”

“I wouldn’t drink your wine if you paid me,” Bruce said.

Meg dumped the last of the meat into the rice and stirred it while they argued. Slowly but surely the others in the caravan followed the smell to the fire and the argument ended with people announcing what they had brought for the pot. One by one they added onions and peppers, peas and other vegetables until the dish looked impossibly complicated. And then came the long process of lining up and spooning food into bowls, cups and plates. A few took it in their hands and some packed it away in small pouches for later.

THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY: COOKED BREAKFAST +3xp COOKING +1 REPUTATION WITH CARAVANERS

With the meal ready to eat they broke up into small groups and chatted amongst themselves as they ate. Meg wanted to talk to Master Leroy about his school but felt bad for her employer and sat down beside him away from the others. He stared moodily at his food and picked through it with his chopsticks.

“Cheer up Brucey Baby,” She said. “you got fuel and breakfast without lifting a finger. That’s pure profit.”

“Tell that to my ego,” He said. “back home I would have had him thrown out of the city for speaking to me like that.”

“This is the desert Brucey,” She said. “you heard him. They face starvation and death everyday. Out here it's about more than money and status. Heck out here he’s what you were back home.”

“A man like him could never sleep with the entire Lunar opera, audience included,” Bruce said.

“Congratulations you are a sex god superior to everyone around you,” Meg said.

“I could do without the sass,” He said. “Nine tails of the fox, why does that man bother me so much? I don’t need his respect and yet.”

“You want it,” Meg said. “you know you’re not a sniveling idiot and you think that is how he sees you. You want to be able to live up to his standards as an equal, but a little part of you doesn’t think you can.”

Bruce’s shoulders slumped and he set his food down on his bedroll. “My first wife always said I had daddy issues,” He said. “everytime the caravan master insults me I hear my father. Muck those stalls, don’t whine it’s just dirt you big baby, Grand Elder, why did you give me a sissy for a son.”

Meg stopped mid-bite and glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes. The development team had really doubled down on their roleplaying A.I. and she loved it. “My dad told me not everyone will see your worth,” She said. “and nothing you do will change that. So instead of worrying about what they think or what they want, focus on yourself. Be who and what you want to be. We’ll all die anyway so it doesn’t matter in the end.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bruce said. “not accounting for jealous husbands and wives I’ll be around for at least ten thousand years and then I’ll go back to the Great Tree and do it all over again.”

“How long do you think Loong’s live?” Meg said.

“Oh about five thousand years,” Bruce said. “Though there is a monk who claims to be fifteen thousand.”

“So I could dedicate half of your life span to hitting you in the face with a shovel?” Meg said. “Think about that before you insult me when I’m trying to cheer you up.”

Silence fell between them and Meg focused on the food. With every bite the fatigue of spell casting faded and she felt normal again. “I’m sorry,” Bruce said.

“You’re forgiven,” Meg said.

Bruce’s head jerked around and he said “That’s it?”

She put her bowl down and leaned back and picked rice out of her teeth with her long purple tongue. “Pretty much,” She said.

“You don’t have any demands? No hoops for me to jump through. You don’t want me to grovel at your feet?”

She shook her head. “Life is too short for that sort of thing,” She said. “How about we forget it and talk a little shop?”

Bruce picked up his bowl again and started eating. “Money does have a way of soothing the mind,” He said.

“Only if you’re the one making it,” she said.

“Which I am,” he said.

“Tell me about this contract of ours,” Meg said.

“It’s a standard contract enforced by the merchant’s association and backed by the Imperial government,” Bruce said. “I am responsible for teaching you the ways of business and you are responsible for doing any business related tasks I give you, though the language is vague and in my favor.”

“Typical,” Meg said. The world was full of companies who took everything and gave nothing then expected to be worshipped when they threw a pizza party for their overworked and underpaid employees.

“It goes on to state that I will provide free room and board while you are in my employment and I shall pay you a salary of one copper a day.”

Meg did the math and cringed. One copper a day came to about thirty copper every month or three hundred and sixty copper a year. A single lesson from Master Leroy was ten gold or a thousand copper pieces. That meant she’d have to save roughly three years of her wages for a single lesson. She suddenly missed her high level loot and dungeon rewards.

“Of course you are also entitled to thirty percent of whatever you sell and I am entitled to half of any goods you acquire or buy.”

“Dang it,” Meg said.

“What? Did you acquire something?” Bruce said, grinning.

Meg showed him the snake skin and he held each one up and studied them. “Very poor quality,” he said. “enough to make a few belts. I could probably sell them for a silver piece.”

“We have three,” Meg grumbled. “how do you want to split them?”

“I’ll take the best of them and you can keep the other two,” Bruce said. “consider it compensation for getting the fuel and making breakfast.”

“You know Bruce you’re not half bad,” She said.

“I’ve never committed a single crime in my life,” Bruce said. “unless you count blowing out backs a crime.”

“With your scrawny hips there is no way you’re blowing out backs,” Meg said.

“I can too and have,” He said.

Meg chuckled and put her two snake skins in her pack. “I don’t suppose you know how to make these skins into belts?” She said.

“Of course I do,” He said. “I can make you a three piece suit out of tree bark. I once made a wedding gown for Lady Chao Mingmei using nothing but spider webs and squirrel bones.”

“That’s a weird request,” Meg said.

“It was even weirder because she wasn’t getting married,” Bruce said. “now before we make these into belts we have to ask ourselves one question. Is it worth the investment to make them into belts?”

“Well is it?” She said.

“If we were in the city with a shop and a bevy of resources and friends willing to cut us a break on labor costs then yes it would,” Bruce said. “but we have none of those things, nor are we likely to find the necessary supplies to tan the hide. Sure we could use the old ways of our ancestors but that sort of thing takes time and we will be on the move for the next several days.”

“So we sell them as hides,” Meg said.

“Precisely,” Bruce said.

“How much do we charge for them?” She said.

Bruce finished his food and set the bowl aside and grinned at her. His eyes were a deep shade of purple and they glistened as he approached the topic of commerce. “Supply and demand for starters but we are newcomers here and don’t know the going rate for such things,” He said. “But all is not lost. We must also consider how much it cost us to get these materials and then convert it to how much would entice us to part with it.”

“It didn’t cost you anything,” She said. “and all it cost me was stress.”

His smile widened and she lost herself for a moment in the blinding whiteness of his perfect symmetrical grin. It reminded her of looking at Dorian on the viewscreen and her stomach did an ugly roll that sent butterflies shooting through her insides.

“You see it cost us both nothing in terms of money, but it did cost us time. And how much is that time worth to you? And of course we must take that price and mark it up because that is how we get the profit!”

“What you’re saying is that when you don’t know you pull it out of your ass?” She said.

Bruce frowned at her and shook his head. “It’s called an educated guess,” He said. “but that is only the start of it, my young pupil. Once we set our price we have to get someone to buy it, many people won’t argue they’ll say yes or no, but there are those who will try and negotiate so we must also set a price for how low we’ll sell it for versus how high we’ll sell it for. Understand?”

Meg nodded and Bruce kept talking. “Convincing a customer to buy your goods is the fun part. You can’t sell them on the product, you have to sell them on the idea of the product. These are poor quality skins for sure but they will make a good belt and that belt will change their lives, it will keep their pants up when they go to meet their bride, it will save their lives when they are wounded and all alone in this barren hell hole and need a tourniquet. Keep them thinking what if and their wallets will come out faster than a dire hawk shits!”

Meg shuddered. She remembered all too well the stench and weight of the dire hawk’s only projectile attack. It had taken her days to get the stench off her armor in the last game.

“How does this sound?” She said. “I make a copper piece a day and it took me fifteen minutes to collect the hides. If I sell them for three coppers a piece my commission will be double my daily wage.”

“That’s very good,” Bruce said. “but you’re being too humble. We want to get rich! Pump those numbers up.”

“Alright, I’ll sell them for six copper a piece and make a commission of five copper.”

“And I’ll pocket an easy thirteen copper,” Bruce said. “it really does pay to be the boss. Of course you have to find someone willing to pay that price.”

Meg looked out over the caravan and smiled. “I think I might know someone who will buy them.”

Bruce followed her gaze to the caravan master and nodded. “A solid choice but be careful,” He said. “Sometimes a good friend is worth more than a bag of gold.”

“I’ll let him eat first,” She said.

“A good idea,” Bruce said. “and try to get him alone. We don’t want Master Leroy acting as his conscience.”

“Do you have any wine to soften him up?” She said.

“A true merchant does not need to get their customer drunk to sell something,” Bruce said. He opened his pack and pulled out a small clay jug with a stopper in it and handed it to her. “But in the pursuit of profit almost everything is acceptable.”

She took the jug from him and put it in her pack. “Thanks boss,” She said.

“The only thanks I require will be the monetary kind,” Bruce replied. “before you take a run at him, wash these dishes and roll up my bedding. I need to go see a bush about a dog.”

Meg laughed and slapped him on the back and nearly knocked him over. “Watch out for snakes,” She said.

“On second thought come with me,” He said.

“Oh no, I’m not standing downwind from you while you make your morning deposit,” She said. “Just make a lot of noise and they’ll run away. I think.”

“Fine but I get bit you had better heal me like you healed that camel,” Bruce said.

He got up and wandered off in search of a bush and she gathered up their dishes. She scrubbed each of their bowls with sand and used a damp cloth to wipe away the sand then put the dishes away. Throughout the task she checked her numbers and looked in on chat. If anyone had left she couldn’t tell. She looked up at the caravan master and took a deep breath to ground herself. She needed to play it cool but on the inside she was squirming with excitement that threatened to burst out of her at any minute. She couldn’t wait to make her first sale!