The woman who approached Beth and Mark outside the orphanage was in her late 70s, her grey hair done up in a bun that sat on the top of her head. Her brown robe was held shut with a clasp made from a pair of aged astragali, the size of the carved knucklebones suggesting they came from the Arenian equivalent of a goat or a deer.

The woman took Beth’s hand in her own. “It’s good to see you, dear. You’ve been in my thoughts all night.”

Beth peered at the woman. “You’re…Cara?” she asked. The woman nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s all a bit of a blur. This is my son Mark and our friend Gavin.”

Cara chuckled and poked Gavin on the nose. “You needn’t introduce me to this scamp. Is he still running about, mistaking his good Luck for immortality?”

Gavin didn’t make eye contact, instead looking at the ground and mumbling something unintelligible. The old woman raised an eyebrow at him, but Beth could see the smirk on her lips as she turned her attention to Mark. “As for you, you must be Beth’s son. I can see the family resembla—”

The woman stopped, her eyebrows pursing together as she leaned forward, staring at him. Raising one finger slowly into the air, she poked him sharply in the chest. “What are you?”

“Uh, what?” he said. He looked at Beth, as though she had any idea what was going on. “I don’t understand.”

The elderly woman remembered herself, shaking her head apologetically.

“I’m sorry, that was rude,” she said, giving Mark a second look. “Come, let me take you inside.”

Cara beckoned them up a small stairway that led to a plain door in the face of the building. She kept glancing at Mark, but refrained from saying anything further as she led them inside. Beth was still trying to puzzle out the strange interaction when she took in her surroundings and froze.

This was the vestibule where she had collapsed after her flight. Where she had laid on the ground, reading that horrible Tome message over and over again.

Her heart raced. She had to suppress the urge to run away—to run out of the orphanage, out of the city, out of this world.

No, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut and forcing herself to take smooth, even breaths.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. Smooth, controlled. Calm.

Finally, her pulse rate settled. When it did, a paper materialize in her hand.

Yoga Skill Increased to Level 23 (Tier-II)

The difficulty of finding calm is proportional to the forces working against it.

500 XP Earned

Willpower +1

Mental fortitude is only built up by overcoming difficult times. It’s hard going now, but raising your Willpower will make it easier to deal with struggles like these. They will still hurt, but you will be better equipped to deal with the aftermath.

“It’s very different in here compared to the outside,” Mark said, his voice pulling Beth back to reality. Dismissing the piece of paper, she looked around and realized her son was right.

While the outside of the building had the appearance of a condemned factory, the inside looked more like the orphanage it purported to be. The vestibule was constructed of the same cinderblocks used to repair the rest of the building, but unlike the unadorned exterior, this wall was covered in two huge murals, one to either side of a central door.

The mural on the left was highly detailed and split into thirds. The top third showed two men sitting at a card table, one man laughing with a stack of gold in front of him, while the other man held his face in his hands as he was consoled by a barmaid. The bottom left image was quite different, depicting a funeral where a dark-robed priest handed the same stack of gold from the first image over to a grieving widow. Meanwhile, the final image on the bottom right depicted the dejected man from the first image in a happy scene at home, standing beside the former barmaid as they looked down at their newborn child. As for the painting on the right side of the door, it was utterly amateur and clearly made by the children of the orphanage, full of bright colours and flat pictures. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in any Earthen elementary school.

Beth smiled. Something about the two murals being given equal positions of prominence gave her a good feeling about the place.

“Will you join us?” Cara asked. Beth pulled her attention away from the murals and discovered that Mark and the woman had continued through the door and were waiting for her to follow. Of Gavin, there was no sight.

“Of course, yes,” Beth said, hurrying after them.

The door led into a much larger room, around 10 metres deep by 5 metres wide, with a high ceiling that reached all the way to the roof, three stories above. The right-hand wall had two sets of metal walkways corresponding to the second and third floors, each with a door at the near and far ends of the room that presumably led to the housing portion of the orphanage. The walkways were accessible by metal stairs at either end that snaked tightly back and forth like a fire escape. The rest of the room appeared to be a dining area, filled with long wooden tables of dubious stability. Once again, there were child-drawn murals on the walls, and given the splotches of paint that covered the tables, it seemed likely that the room doubled as an art station for the kids.

Speaking of which…

“Where are the children?” Beth asked.

“Off on their quests, of course,” Cara answered. “Their Tomes only supply quests that can be performed during daylight hours unless it’s something that can be done inside, like cleaning up meals or the older children helping put the young ones to bed.”

“Really?” Mark asked. “Even with the dangers of the Port District?”

“Yes,” Cara responded. “It can be dangerous, true, but it lays the best foundation possible for their future lives. In fact, two of the children received a time-limited quest to find your mother yesterday. Their successful efforts granted them each a level of Renown.”

“There was a quest to find me?” Beth said with surprise.

The old woman chuckled. “I was a bit taken aback myself. It seems you were meant to come here. Gods know why, although I have my suspicions.”

“Actually, I think I know one reason,” Beth said, taking the bag Naomi had delivered and handing it over. “If anyone should have this, it’s those who suffered most at the hands of that gang.”

Cara looked at her in confusion, but she took the bag from her hands anyway, taking it to a table where she poured out the contents. As she did so, a piece of paper fluttered in front of Beth, but she discarded it without looking. The quest that had appeared when she decided to bring the items to the orphanage wasn’t her motivation for being there.

Quest: “Thank You Note” Completed!

Not all good deeds go unrewarded, you know.

Reward for Success: 200 XP

Once the bag’s contents were spread out on the table, Cara looked up at Beth in surprise. “These belonged to the Broken Glass gang! Where did you get this?”

Beth looked at the ground, fiddling awkwardly with her hands. “Let’s just say that a prominent person discovered what the gang was doing. They gave me what’s in that bag, and I’m giving it to you.”

Cara looked over Beth’s shoulder at Mark, then back down at the goods on the table. “So, the Family finally realized what was going on.” She made a tsking noise. “Bunch of fools, thinking some low-level officials being willing to look the other way meant they could commit crimes with their house insignia showing.”

Rummaging through the pile, she pulled out a copper badge embossed with the word “Customs.” She waved it at them. “Looks like those officials didn’t dodge the axe, either.” She gave Beth a curious look. “And you want us to have this?”

When Beth nodded her assent, Cara smiled. “Far be it for me to turn down a donation. We run on tight margins, and given that donations are technically illegal, anything is appreciated.”

“Donations to an orphanage are illegal?” Beth asked incredulously.

Cara shrugged and said, “Palmyre,” as though that were explanation enough.

“What do you mean?”

Cara looked at her askance. “What do you mean?”

“We’re new to the city,” Beth said. “Some of the nuances are lost on us.”

“Ah, that explains it,” the old woman said. “We spoke earlier about the childrens’ quests. If all we gave them was food and shelter, I doubt the city would care about our operation, but we also ensure that they have an opportunity to grow their Renown and gain new Skills before they reach adulthood. That’s hardly of benefit to the Families.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” Beth said in confusion. “Wouldn’t the Families want a more Skilled populace?”

Cara sighed. “I take it you’re unaware of the politics of Palmyre?”

Beth shook her head and looked at Mark, who shrugged.

“I see,” Cara said. Placing the items and money in the bag, she beckoned them to follow her to the far side of the room. There they discovered a door that blended into the mural so well that it was barely noticeable, on the other side of which was a sparsely appointed office with just a desk, a couple of chairs, and a bookshelf; as well as a large fern in one corner.

Seating herself behind the desk, Cara gestured to the chairs. When Beth and Mark were settled, she said, “What do you know about the Families?”

“Very little, if I’m being honest,” Beth admitted.

“That’s understandable,” Cara said, nodding. “You’ve said you’re from elsewhere, and the politics of Palmyre are not intuitive. It’s a unique form of governance.

“To begin with, you need to understand that there are six main Families. Three ancient houses and three modern houses, although even the modern houses are hundreds of years old. The ancient houses are Machina, Equus, and Arbor; while the modern ones are Laws, Glass, and Dye.”

“What’s with the names?” Mark asked.

“They represented the industry upon which the Family originally built its strength—the innovations they developed that allowed them to get a toehold in power. Nowadays, those distinctions are largely symbolic. Every Family has diversified their business interests significantly over the years, although House Laws continues to be heavily involved in the legislative side of the city. That said, the Families do retain a fondness for their roots. You’ll often see it in their art and dress, not to mention the pompous colloquialisms they like to throw around.”

“If those are the main Families, does that mean there are others?” Beth asked.

“Technically, yes,” Cara said, “But they’re not worth mentioning. They’re largely subsidiaries of the big six Families at this point.”

“Then how did those ‘newer’ Families ever manage to displace the old ones?”

“Money, obviously,” Cara said. “A combination of a revolutionary idea and genius business acumen allowed those Families to grow to the point where they could garner enough votes to influence Palmyrian politics.”

Beth did a double take. “Wait…Palmyre is a democracy?”

Cara laughed at that. “Perhaps on paper. There’s voting, but rather than having everyone go out and cast their own votes, it is assumed that the Families, being the benevolent employers they are, have their employees’ best interests at heart. So, they simply cast votes on behalf of their employees.”

Beth stared at the woman, open-mouthed. “Are you saying that each Family gets one vote per employee, but the employees themselves don’t get to vote?”

“That’s correct.”

“That’s abhorrent.”

“Well…” Mark said awkwardly. “Just to play devil’s advocate, wouldn’t that mean more people have jobs? If a Family’s employee base dictates their power in the city, that’s a big incentive to hire people.”

“Ah, the naiveté of youth,” Cara said, chuckling. “What do you think happens when a Family benefits from having more employees but still wants to keep profits high?”

“The easy answer is that they pay them less, but obviously that can’t happen,” Mark said. “People would just quit their job and go elsewhere. You’d need to incentivize them to stay, which is a good thing.”

“You’re right; incentivizing people to stay would be good,” Cara acknowledged. “But from a profit standpoint, making it impossible for them to leave is even better.”

“What do you mean?” Mark asked.

“You make the employees indebted to you,” Cara said. “Maybe it’s by supplying housing, or subsidizing food—even paying for a wedding or to heal someone’s child. If it means getting someone in a position of debt, they’ll do it. But once you’re in debt, they make it nearly impossible to pay off. In fact, that’s how House Laws rose to prominence—by inventing the opaque contractual tangle that leaves a person unable to extricate themselves from their financial situation.”

Beth blanched. “Don’t people realize what they’re getting into?”

“They think they do,” Cara answered. “The Families even boast about their lower interest rates for employees and show you all sorts of charts and graphs about how long it will take to pay off your debt at your current salary. What they don’t mention are the financial penalties they can levy almost at will. Show up late? Add to the debt. Break a glass? Onto the debt. Unfounded allegation pointed your direction?” She shrugged. “You get the picture. Everyone thinks they can beat the system. They can’t, and by the time they realize that fact, it’s too late.”

“That’s awful,” Beth said. She felt sick inside—Peter worked for the people who created this system?

“It’s not just awful. It’s indentured servitude,” Mark said. “I mean…holy shit.”

Beth leaned forward and placed her head in her hands. She felt no urge to correct her son’s language.

He was right.

And with that realization, she felt her hopes of a calm, civil life within Palmyrian society die.

“What does this have to do with building the children’s Skills?” Beth asked, trying to distract herself. “I’m still not seeing the connection.”

Cara raised her hands in resignation. “The more Skills a child knows, the more opportunities they have to get a better job. That makes it harder to get them into debt. Raising Skills and finishing Quests also increases a child’s Renown, making it harder to take advantage of them. It’s much easier to take a singl’d child who has just come of age and then restrict their set of Skills to whatever fits your needs than it is to find work for someone who is already multi-faceted and capable. There haven’t been many worker uprisings in the history of Palmyre, but all of them were led by people whose Skills and Renown were broader than necessary for a person in their position.”

A paper appeared in front of Beth, while two appeared in front of Mark. Taking hers out of the air, Beth quickly skimmed the contents.

Intelligence +1

I took the liberty of looking this lady up. You could definitely learn a thing or two from her.

“Congratulations,” Cara said with a grin. “I must say, I’m surprised that my little spiel managed to complete a Quest. You really must be new here.”

“Actually, that was an Intelligence boost,” Beth said. “I’m up to 18 now.”

“Oh,” Cara said awkwardly. She leaned forward and patted Beth on the knee. “Perhaps I can lend you a book or two.”

“Hey! I know quite a bit, thank you very much,” Beth said.

Which was true. Beth had two college degrees and was a high school science teacher. Why her Tome had translated that into a lower Intelligence score than her husband and daughter made no sense. She had dismissed it as irrelevant, but now she saw it for the foolishness it was. Those numbers had tangible real-world effects, and she couldn’t afford to ignore her statistical idiosyncrasies any longer.

Fortunately, one of the only people Beth knew on Arenia was an expert on Tomes.

“I got an Intelligence bump as well,” Mark said, “but also…Luck?”

Cara’s eyes widened. “You got a Luck increase? For that?”

Mark nodded. “It was kinda lucky that we met you, when you think about it. Now it’ll be harder for the Families to take advantage of us.”

The woman shook her head. “You must have a truly horrible Luck score. How have you not been run over by a wagon yet?”

He scowled. “You’re not the first person to ask me that.”

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it?” she asked in evident confusion. “Buy some dice, talk to some women…anything!

“And you,” she said, turning to Beth with annoyance. “His Luck as a child was your responsibility. You didn’t play the games with him? You should be ashamed of yourself, letting a lad—”

This was getting dangerously close to questions that couldn’t be answered by their cover story, so Beth feigned irritation and went on the offensive.

“I will take responsibility for my own son’s upbringing, thank you very much,” she said curtly. “You know nothing of where we’re from, our cultural differences, or the restrictions we may have lived under. Suffice it to say that we left our homeland and ended up here—in an objectively terrible place for people with our background—yet have no plans to return from whence we came. I would suggest leaving the topic alone.”

The sensation of a paper’s arrival came and went.

Improv Skill Increased to Level 21 (Tier-II)

Oh my, aren’t you the sassy one. I don’t think you even lied there…technically. We may find a class for you after all.

Tier-1 Bonus: Effective increase of +1 to Charisma when using this Skill.

Tier-2 Bonus: Effective increase of +1 to Intelligence when using this Skill.

500 XP Earned

That last part of the Tome comment was somewhat concerning, but her diatribe seemed to have accomplished its purpose.

“I apologize,” Cara said, calming her tone. “I should have been helping rather than chastising. Do you have a set?”

Beth had no idea what the woman was talking about, so she leaned on her Improv Skill again. “No, that wasn’t something we were able to take with us.”

“Something you weren’t…?” Then Cara cringed. “Refugees. Right. I’m sorry, now I understand. Here.” She opened a drawer in her desk and shuffled around, the clatter of her search creating a sound that caused Beth to smile. Every teacher knew the sound of a drawer full of confiscated items.

“Here we go,” the old woman said, withdrawing a leather cup with a lid and a strap. She took a handful of dice from a different drawer and tossed them in the cup, along with a small sheaf of papers and some charcoal sticks. She tied down the strap and handed it to Mark. “A gift. Next time I see you, have that Luck score up.”

“That’s very kind of you,” he said.

“I very much agree,” Beth said, rising from her seat. “Now, I’m sure we’ve taken up too much of your time as it is. Do you know where we’ll find Gavin? I’ll feel much safer if he leads us back home.

“Oh no,” Cara said, pointing back down at the seat. “You aren’t going anywhere yet.”

Beth’s eyebrows pursed. “Did I do something?”

“Not you. Him,” she said, pointing at Mark.

“Me?” he asked, pointing at his chest.

“Yes, you,” she said. “My profession may be Orphanage Matron, but my class is Cleric of Ádhmór. One Trait associated with that role is a sense of how the threads of fate affect the world around me. People, creatures, plants—even stone and sky. At times I am capable of a limited amount of prescience, but even at its weakest, I feel it. You, however, are different.”

Mark shifted uncomfortably. “How so?”

“Because according to my Ability, you don’t exist.”