Inside, Justin found himself in a dimly lit common room. The warm glow of the hearth cast flickering shadows on the wooden tables and benches that filled the space. A few patrons were scattered throughout the room, nursing drinks and conversing in hushed tones. The air was certainly different here, but despite the shabby interior, the owner seemed to keep the establishment clean and in good working order.
Taking a deep breath, Justin approached the bar, where an older man with grizzled hair and a bushy beard stood wiping a mug. He looked up as Justin approached, his eyes appraising the young man before him.
“What can I get you, lad?” the man asked gruffly.
“Just a drink and some information if you have it.
“Drinks are cheap. Information is pricier, depending on the request.”
What drinks did they have in games like this? Probably not a Harvey Wallbanger or a Moscow Mule.
“Ale is fine.”
The innkeeper nodded, sliding a tankard of dark-hued liquid across the counter. “That’ll be five coppers.”
Justin fished the coin out of his pouch and handed them over. Taking a swig of the ale, he savored the bitter taste as it cooled his tongue.
“I’m looking for some advice,” Justin began after taking another swig. “I’m new around here, and I need to figure out a way to make some money.”
The innkeeper raised an eyebrow. “What skills do you have?”
Justin hesitated. “I’m a Socialite.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Level 1.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Just got out, eh?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play coy. Happens to a lot of men. Ironhold? Shadowkeep?”
Justin didn’t want to elaborate, but he was reasonably sure the barkeep was talking about prison. “Ironhold.”
“Ah, tough luck, that. Well, you wouldn’t be the first faced with a class reset, but it’s better than the other option.”
Apparently, a common punishment for criminals was to get their levels reset, or perhaps taken away altogether. That was how rare it was to find someone who was Level 1 and looked to be above twenty years of age.
Justin wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t want to give himself away. He put on a very long mental list of things he had to look up later. There had to be a library or something.
“Truth be told, I don’t have much in the way of practical abilities, but I can talk to people,” Justin went on, feeling as if he were lying through his teeth.
And who was to say that wasn’t true? In his old life, he was a bumbling fool who couldn’t string two words together to anyone who even slightly intimidated him.
But here, he had more important concerns. Talking was easier now, and his thoughts were strangely clear. Either it was the fresh air, his class, or the endless dangers making pesky things like social anxiety take a backseat. Now, he had anxieties of a different sort.
The innkeeper considered this for a moment, stroking his beard. “Well, there are a few options that might suit you. You could look for a job as a merchant’s assistant, helping with negotiations and deals. Or you could try your hand at being a courier or a scribe. People are always in need of someone who can deliver messages or write letters, assuming you can write.”
“I can.”
“That puts you ahead of most, at least in this town. You got something of an education, so you can aim for something that gets you at least a silver a day. The Royal Mail is always hiring couriers. Dangerous, especially these days, but it could suit you if you want something a little more. Might make ten silvers a week doing work like that, up to twenty, depending on the danger and how many jobs you take on.”
“Twenty? Now we’re talking.”
“Granted, a lot of your pay would have to go into financing your own coach, horse, and perhaps a guard or two. It’s a hard business. My advice is, try to work in the post office. A lot safer, and quite stable.”
“I really can’t just deliver letters on my own? Can’t be that bad.”
The barkeep chuckled. “You’d just be asking for it, even on the roads. Especially on the roads.”
Justin thought back to those goblins and realized the barkeep might be right.
Justin mulled over the suggestions, then said, “What about putting my class abilities to use? Are there any places where I might find work that would allow me to use my charisma?”
The innkeeper chuckled. Thankfully, he seemed to find the conversation with Justin amusing, a break in the monotony. Justin couldn’t think of any other reason he was being so helpful.
“I suppose you could try the local theater,” the barkeep said. “They’re always looking for actors with a bit of charm, though that’s mostly volunteer based. You need to go to the big cities to make a living of it.”
Justin nodded, mentally noting the possibilities. “Thank you for the advice. I appreciate it.”
The innkeeper waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t mention it, lad. Just remember that sometimes, it’s not what you know, but who you know. Make the right friends, and doors will open for you.”
With that piece of wisdom, Justin finished his drink and left the inn. He had no friends, so that last bit of advice was probably useless.
Truth be told, he hadn’t ever held a job in his life. His mom always got on him for that. She always told him to at least do something, even if it was working at McDonald’s, but his pride would never allow it. Looking back, he realized it would’ve been good for him. He’d gotten more sun and nature in the past couple of days than he had in the last couple of years.
Maybe even the last couple of decades.
Here, though, he didn’t have to be his old self. He could be whoever he wanted, and there was no one to say boo. There was power and freedom in that.
He would start by making connections, forging alliances, and learning everything he could about the people and places around him. And he would begin right here in the town of Mistwatch.
He headed back toward the town square, looking at his map all the while. The town wasn’t large, so it took about half a minute to find the post office.
He made his way inside, completely oblivious that he was being tailed.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
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He strolled through the front door, the bell above the entrance announcing his arrival. The room was simple, with a long wooden counter at the end. Behind the counter were rows of pigeonholes filled with letters and parcels, each one sorted by destination. He read brass placards in those holes with names like Silverton, Belmora, Windfall, Draegor’s Keep, and Highcliff. A middle-aged woman with a strict bun and spectacles looked up from her ledger.
“Can I help you?” she inquired.
“I’ve heard you need couriers,” Justin replied, his voice steady. “I’m here to offer my services.”
She arched an eyebrow, eyeing him up and down, taking in his basic clothing and the hesitant way he stood. “Experience?”
“Fresh out of Ironhold. Need to start somewhere.”
He internally cringed. Starting a job interview by mentioning a fictitious stint in a fantasy world prison was not exactly a winning strategy.
Her gaze softened slightly. “Ye Gods. Well, we’re desperate for help, and most don’t want to take the Silver Road these days...”
He swallowed hard. “I’m aware of the risks. But I need the job.”
“We have something safer. Doesn’t pay as well, but at least you’ll keep your head. We need someone to do the sorting.”
“Pay?”
“Fifty coppers a day.”
“That’s poverty wages! I was told to expect a silver.”
She chuckled. “Even I don’t make that, young man! We need help, but we’ll pay you market rate for it. Fifty coppers and not one more. Any old Jack of the street can do it.”
“I’m not any old Jack, trust me. If it’s truly only fifty coppers, then I want something more. I’ve got a fire in my belly, and nothing can stop me! Tell me about your courier job.”
She looked him over once more, then sighed. “All right. If you’ve survived Ironhold, then I suppose you might be the man. I’ve got an important parcel that needs to be delivered to Baron Valdrik in Silverton. Normally, I wouldn't give it to someone as fresh as you, but it needs to go out the door today. You deliver this and head to the postmaster there, and you’ll get five silvers. Sound good?”
Justin blinked. The Baron of Silverton? This didn’t sound like a simple delivery. That was a high-profile task.
But then again, if he was successful, that would give him some money. Five silvers were the equivalent of five hundred coppers. Justin had figured that one out by looking at his inventory screen this morning. With one job, he’d have ten times the pay. Walking fifty miles to Silverton shouldn’t take over two or three days, even considering Justin’s size. Even assuming three days, that was a base pay of one silver and sixty-six coppers a day. Over three times as profitable.
Plus, it would get him to a bigger city, where his class might be more useful.
“I’ll do it,” he said determinedly. “But I want seven silvers.”
“Five,” the clerk said firmly. “This rate is set by the client and is non-negotiable.”
“Very well. You drive a hard bargain, postmaster. I’ll take it.”
She arched an eyebrow as she handed him a small package, tied up with twine and sealed with red wax, along with an envelope. “That’s your seal. It’s enchanted; once accepted by the intended recipient, it’ll log with the Universal Ledger. Once that’s done, head to the local post office for your pay.” She leaned forward meaningfully. “And be careful. You’re a professional, so I shouldn’t have to say this, but so many couriers these days go missing because they refuse to hire help."
Justin smirked. “At these rates, I can see why.”
The clerk was not amused. “The Mercenary Guild is just down the street. And remember, if you fail, don’t bother coming back.”
Justin nodded, putting the parcel in his pack. “Understood.”
As he left the post office, the game-like user interface in the corner of his vision flashed.
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Job gained: The Baron’s Parcel
Deliver the parcel to the Baron of Silverton. Upon successful delivery, go to the Silverton Post Office to collect your pay.
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Rewards:
* 5 Silvers
* +50 XP
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Justin couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t just about delivering a parcel. It was a challenge, a game.
Or at the very least, something to do.
He got out his map and made his way to the local Mercenary Guild to see if he could hire some protection. It was going to be a long journey, but the prospects of five silvers and the experience points were too enticing to pass up. So far, his basic interactions had granted him very little experience. He had gotten none from his interaction with the clerk, probably because he had failed to convince her to give him more.
Soon enough, he had arrived. The Mercenary Guild was smaller than he’d expected, a simple door in what appeared to be a row of shops, open to the street. But as soon as he entered, there was a cacophony of noise and activity. Justin pushed through the throng of armored men and women, feeling somewhat intimidated, trying to find someone who looked like they might be available for hire. Everyone just leered at him dangerously.
He approached the main counter, manned by a burly orc with green skin and pointed tusks. Or at least, was Justin assumed to be an orc. The sight of him threw Justin for a loop. It was the first time for him to see a non-human in this world. Or really, a non-human sapient in general. It should have surprised him, but for some reason, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
As Justin cleared his throat, he felt the weight of dozens of battle-hardened eyes on him.
“What can I do you for, sir?” the orc asked gruffly, his expression disinterested.
“I need protection for the Silver Road journey. As far as Silverton.”
“Very good. What kind of protection?"
“The good kind.”
“Well, it can be had, if your pockets are deep enough.”
He considered a moment. If he paid even two silvers, that meant the rate would only be double what he would get working as a clerk. But double was better than not double.
“I’ve got two silvers to pay,” he began, trying to sound sure of himself. “On arrival, of course.”
Laughter erupted around the hall, and Justin felt his cheeks burn.
The orc grinned, further revealing his yellowed tusks. “Two silvers? Do you want your hire to fight with a twig? No one here will risk the Silver Road for anything less than five, especially these days!”
Justin had hoped to negotiate, but this was more than he’d expected. “I can go as high as three.”
The orc guffawed. “Sod off, little boy. This clearly isn’t for you.”
“Never mind, then. I suppose I’ll have to go to Silverton on my own. Good day.”
Whispers and snickers followed him as he made his way to the exit, deflated. Every step intensified the realization that most couriers venturing on the Silver Road did so alone, which was likely why many never returned. If they were only paying him five, the risk of the job made it pointless. In reality, he should have been getting at least ten.
He’d been played for a fool. The Baron had probably set out a lowball bid, hoping some desperate rube would come along and take it. Experienced couriers would have laughed at the offer. But now that he had taken the parcel, something about it seemed binding. It was a job, and a job had to at least be attempted. Otherwise, he’d be stuck with this parcel for the rest of his life.
Emerging into the sunlight, he stopped, feeling the weight of his decision. Maybe he should just take that sorting job at the post office.
No. That wasn’t his path.
It was Silverton or die.
Just as he was about to turn around and head for the town gate, a hand grabbed his arm, pulling him into a nearby alley.
He was about to shout when he was met by the intense gaze of a young woman. Her striking green eyes sized him up, and her slightly disheveled clothing suggested she was having a rough time herself. She had a lean face, hawkish features, and hollow cheeks that bespoke more than a few missed meals. Justin found her presence a bit alarming, but she didn’t seem to mean him immediate harm. He guessed she was in her mid to late twenties, about the same as him.
“I overheard your conversation in the inn,” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one had followed. “I also saw you stand up to those thugs in the alley. You’ve got guts.”
Justin tried to regain his composure. “You’ve been following me? Who are you?”
“Lila,” she responded, ignoring his question, and drawing a dagger and twirling it in her fingers with practiced ease. “Level 1 Bard. I’ve been looking for a break like this. Those Guildies don’t know an opportunity when they see one. I’ll escort you to Silverton for three silvers.”
Justin eyed her warily. “How can I trust you? You were stalking me, after all.”
She smirked. “I could’ve taken advantage of your predicament in that alley, but I didn’t. Besides, I need the experience and money as much as you do.”
“Will the experience be split between us?”
Lila shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. You get as much as the gods think you should get. Pull your weight, and you should get the full amount. Same goes for me.”
He thought for a moment. The path ahead would undoubtedly be perilous, and Lila was a Bard, which was a charisma-based class, unless Justin was misremembering. In most of the games he’d played, Bards were known for their songs and music skills, not martial prowess, but Lila seemed to be good with that knife of hers, and Justin had nothing else.
The question was one of payment. If he was giving her three silvers, then what was the point of taking the risk? He might as well just stay here in Mistwatch.
“All right, here’s the deal,” Justin said. “How about we split the money in half? That’s two and a half silvers each. That’s a fair arrangement.”
Lila contemplated, then nodded in agreement. “Deal.”
In the corner of Justin’s vision, his user interface blinked.
Decision Made: Hired Protection
2 XP gained! Your experience stands at 24/200.
Lila has joined the party.
“Ready?” Lila asked.
“Lead the way,” Justin said.
With newfound determination, the unlikely duo set forth for the town gate.