Knock knock knock.

Three sturdy knocks hammered on the door. Joseph awoke with a start. He looked out the window to see the hazy half-light of dawn. A small clock by the bed showed it was six in the morning.

“All early birds,” he muttered, “Makes sense.”

He got out of bed, stretching a bit, before walking to the door. He could hear soft cooing noises coming from underneath Phineas's bed – Joseph supposed the Deep One was still asleep. He appreciated that he hadn't woken Joseph up coming in last night. He hadn’t had the best experience with roommates back on Earth. Maybe Phineas wasn't so bad, after all.

Joseph opened the door. It was Mekke. The woman was already in armor, sword strapped to her side, her helmet held in the crook of her arm.

“You slept in, I see,” she said.

“I... it's six AM,” Joseph replied.

“I'm usually up by four at the latest,” Mekke responded, then she shrugged, “I told you that I would be going over your fighting style today, correct?”

“Yeah, but-”

“It is today,” Mekke interrupted, “Come, let us go outside.”

“...Right, on it,” Joseph pulled the blue jacket on and followed Mekke. He could see Broon and Rosemary in the Great Hall below, talking to one another. Rosemary's sharp, high laugh pierced through the morning calm. Ichabod was walking out the door, adjusting his sunglasses as he walked out the double doors of Castle Belenus.

“Wonder where he's off to,” Joseph muttered.

“Pardon?” Mekke asked.

“Nothing,” Joseph said, “Just commenting on the morning, is all.”

“You'll find many members of the Amber Foundation get up this early,” Mekke said, “The early drake gets the gold, after all.”

A few platters were floating in the air on each floor, filled with mugs of steaming coffee. Mekke grabbed two, handing one to Joseph.

“Coffee before training?” he asked.

“It's a habit of mine,” Mekke said, “Coffee is foreign to Londoa. I didn't try it until I joined the guild. It's comforting.”

“So you've been in the guild for awhile, then?”

“Twenty years, give or take,” the warrior replied, “Wakeling picked me up after I resigned my commission in the Morenhai Empire. Here we are.”

She opened up the door to the backrooms. They went through them out into the garden. Cutting through the hedge maze, Mekke brought them out to the field where the Dreamer's Lament was moored. The cold morning wind whipped around them, and Joseph was glad he had the coffee. He set it down by Mekke's on a small, wooden table.

“So, have you ever been in a fight before?”

“I took boxing,” Joseph said.

“Boxing?” Mekke raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, a lot of kids in my class thought I knew kung-fu,” Joseph shrugged, “Because I'm Asian, right?”

“...Asian?”

“It's an Earth term,” Joseph mulled over how to explain it, “An ethnicity.”

“Ah, I see,” Mekke nodded, “And all Asians know kung-fu?”

“That's the stereotype,” Joseph rolled his eyes, “You don't know what Asians are, but you know what kung-fu is?”

“I learned kung-fu from a master on the plane of Kelstonda,” Mekke said, “An ancient practitioner from the Lu Dynasty.”

“Anyways, I took up boxing to mix things up a bit.”

“Show me your stance, then.”

Joseph nodded, looking around awkwardly for a moment before hunkering down, putting his hands up in front of his face. Mekke brought up her hands, nodding at Joseph. He jabbed at her for a few moments, her hands battering away his fists. She nodded in satisfaction.

“Your form is good,” she said, “Let's see your dodges.”

She raised up her fists. Joseph's heart rate spiked as she threw a left hook. He ducked underneath her shot, lifting his head up and stepping back to avoid her proceeding uppercut. Bob and weave. He avoided another jab. And another. Then he countered with a jab of his own. Mekke dodged to the side, bringing up a hand...

And grabbing Joseph's forearm.

“Actual fights aren't as honorable as sport bouts,” she said, “Your form and technique is good, but you were punching as though this were simply boxing and not an actual scrap.”

She let go of Joseph's arm.

“I spotted at least four points when you were dodging that, if I were simply fighting you and not gauging your ability, I could have delivered a few crippling blows. You would be dead now.”

Joseph felt anger welling up. Mekke ignored him, walking back to the table and taking a sip of coffee. Why she wasn't drinking water was beyond him.

“So, what do I do, then?” he grumbled, “Just take it like a man?”

“No,” Mekke replied, “Of course not. You seem to know enough of boxing that you can reasonably punch-out the average person. However, against someone like me, you are woefully unprepared. Let's fix up your form a bit. Take a stance.”

Joseph resumed his stance. Mekke walked over and lowered his arms away from his face.

“There,” she said, “Boxing stances emphasize protecting the upper body and the head, as the fists are the only weapon to fear when facing someone in the ring. Out in the field, your opponent will use everything – their arms, their legs, and whatever weapons they may be carrying. By lowering your hands, you protect your lower body and legs a bit more.”

“...Sacrificing some of my upper body for better protection for my lower.”

“Yes,” Mekke said, “You're picking this up quick.”

“Sounds like a bit to re-learn, then,” Joseph said. He hated to say it, but Mekke wasn't admonishing him – she was blunt, but he could tell she was trying to keep him alive. She gave a satisfactory nod.

“Now, let's go over some basics. Your footwork could use some improvement.”

“Thought you said my form was good,” Joseph said.

“It’s good,” Mekke said, “But you shouldn’t take ‘good’ and settle. There’s always room to improve. Here, let me show you…”

The morning went by quickly, as Mekke went over new stances with Joseph, moving away from boxing and going into street-fighting. Real fights, Joseph was quickly learning, were brutal, and forced him to play dirty. The more Mekke taught him, allowed him to throw sand in her face to blind her, or go for cheap blows to her legs or stomach, the more he found he was enjoying himself.

Finally, lunch rolled around. Mekke stopped practice.

“Oh, geez,” Joseph said, “We skipped breakfast.”

“Technically the first meal we eat is breakfast, as we break our fast,” Mekke responded.

Joseph stared at her for a moment, “...The morning meal. We missed the morning meal.”

The woman shrugged, “I usually only eat one meal a day. So long as you get the calories for the day into your system before sundown, you are fine.”

“Dear god, what do you eat? A whole cow?”

Mekke smiled, “More. I need a lot to keep this body up.”

She flexed, her face chiseled into a deep frown. Joseph was impressed. After a few more pointers on keeping his guard up, Mekke left him to review some paperwork. Joseph went inside, finding the Great Hall bustling with people. The quiet morning was gone, it seemed. Feeling hungry, Joseph went into the dining room, grabbing a sandwich and looking at the tables. He felt like he was in high school again, trying to find an empty seat that wasn't guarded by social graces. Many of the tables were taken up by the members of the guild. Though, Joseph supposed, these were his people.

They were now, at least.

“Hey, Joseph!”

Rosemary raised her hand into the air and waved. Joseph felt a flutter of relief as he walked over, tray in hand. Sitting next to her was a girl with brown skin and curly black hair. She wore a bomber jacket with an emblem on its back that depicted a winged wolf.

“How are you doing?” Rosemary asked as Joseph sat down.

“Oh, I'm well,” Joseph replied. Then he grimaced, “No, actually, never mind. Mekke was training me all morning.”

“So you feel like death warmed over?” the girl in the bomber jacket said.

“Yeah, something like that,” Joseph said, “Sorry, we haven't met. You are...?”

“Name's Mallory. Mallory Freemason,” she replied, “You must be Joe.”

“Joseph, but yeah. Rosemary's told you about me?”

“I was just telling her about what happened on the Fortune's Favor,” Rosemary said, “Joseph, Mallory's from Kelstonda. She's a Steamer.”

Joseph looked over to her, “So, you can manipulate steam?”

“I can do a bit more than that,” Mallory said. She raised up her hand. The air around it began vibrating, before a cloud of white steam began emanating out from her palm, soon overtaking her entire hand like a glove.

“That's... that's honestly amazing,” Joseph said.

“Yeah, essentially,” Mallory chuckled, “You seem really excited about this. Do they not have Steamers where you're from?”

“Nothing like that,” Joseph said.

“What do you do, then?” Rosemary asked.

Then she looked up behind Joseph. Joseph turned right as a large, mint-green arm began resting on his head. Its owner was a large creature, humanoid with a hooked nose and greasy, long black hair. He was wearing nothing but a pair of black jeans. Beside him was a girl with spiky purple and blue hair. She was Asian – or, Joseph supposed, whatever was equivalent to 'Asian' in her world. She wore a black t-shirt that read, in an electrifying green font, 'Sadness and the Sorrows.'

“Aye,” the mint-green monster said, “What do ye do?”

“Oh!” Rosemary said, “Hi Nole, G-Wiz.”

“'Sup, kid,” the girl, G-wiz, said.

Rosemary seemed to ignore Joseph's quivering as she smiled up at the monster, “Joseph, that's Nole. He's a troll.”

“Nole the troll,” Joseph said, “Original.”

“Answer the question, Joseph,” Nole said, a devious smile on his face, “What do ye do? Methinks ye look like slim eatings.”

“C-creepy,” Joseph said, deflecting the question. He noticed that G-Wiz had a not-altogether-friendly smile on her face, “I, ah, I go to college.”

“Soft in body, by the looks of it,” Nole said, “Isn't that right, G-Wiz?”

“Looks about right,” G-Wiz agreed, “Noodle arms, noodle legs. And Mekke was saying he had the build of a boxer.”

“Pretty lousy boxer,” Nole noted.

“Hey, I'm right here,” Joseph let out a false laugh, “If you want to talk about me, do it behind my back.”

“Oh, but we would have, had ye not turned around,” Nole said.

“Pretty shit move from you, to be honest,” G-Wiz added.

“Look, what's your guys’ deal?” Joseph’s voice lost its fake cheer.

“Ugh, just ignore them, Joe,” Mallory said, “Nole's just trying to goad you. He does it with all the newbies. Something about 'warrior's honor,' or something.”

“The honor of all warriors!” Nole snarled, “All warriors must have honor! So says Nole, of Ketzis!”

“You were kicked out of Ketzis for being too weak,” Mallory said. Nole went silent at that, glaring daggers at Mallory. Rosemary looked between the two. Joseph saw discomfort in her eyes as she tried to change the subject.

“So, Joseph,” she said, “What's... college?”

“What's college?” Joseph asked. Then he realized what she was saying, “Oh, it's like a school. You choose a specialization – a 'major' – and then you study it.”

“And what was your major?” Rosemary said.

“It was...” Joseph tried to find his words, “Undecided. Generalized.”

G-Wiz snorted, “So, a school of specializations, and you… weren’t specialized?.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Doesn't sound like a good fit for the school, aye?” Nole said.

“I mean,” Joseph said, trying to keep his temper under control, “I hadn't made my decision yet. That's all. I was thinking of going into medicine, like my dad. Or engineering, like my brother.”

“Oho, quite the trailblazer!” Nole laughed, “Following in yer elders' footsteps, never making yer own road.”

“Have to admit, pretty weak of you,” G-Wiz said, “You should've picked something else.”

“Did you not-” Joseph breathed in deeply, settling his anger, “Did you not just hear me? I'm undecided. Do you know what undecided means? It means I haven't decided yet.”

“Joe, settle down,” Mallory warned, “They're just trying to get a rise out of you.”

He knew that, somewhere in the back of his mind. Yet the way that Nole's smirk only widened, the way that G-Wiz’s single, judgmental eyebrow kept playing up and down, up and down, was starting to make him see red.

“What's wrong, little one?” Nole said, “Ye look a wee bit mad.”

“Just,” Joseph sighed, turning back to the table, “Just shut up, will you?”

“Oh, a very good taunt from little ol' Noodle here,” Nole chuckled, “Poor, generalized little Noodle, still looking up to his pappy.”

They didn't really sound like insults. The way that Nole slurred his own accent made him sound like an uneducated hick. Yet the meaning got through to him. These weren’t like the arrogant slights from Ichabod. No, these were more devious, more pointed and personal.

Yet he knew that Mallory was right. Joseph closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He was angry enough, as is.

“Where is your pappy, anyways?” Nole asked, “Did you get his permission to be out here?”

“Where’s your dad?” Joseph said, “Don’t see him anywhere. Maybe he’s back on Ketzis, wondering why his son’s such a poser.”

“A… poser?” Nole growled, “A POSER!?”

Joseph cracked a smile as the troll snarled, standing up and putting his face in the troll’s, his mind empty of reason and his eyes seeing red.

“You heard what I said.”

“Want to put your money where your mouth is, boy?” Nole growled, “Make your old man proud?”

“You first.”

Mallory rolled her eyes, burying her head in her hands. Rosemary looked nervous. G-Wiz had an almost-astonished, excited look on her face, like she couldn't believe what she was about to witness.

Nole, however, began to smile again. He raised up his hands, showing off black, dirty nails that had been filed into points. They weren’t balled into fists like Joseph's were – instead, they were slightly curled like the claws of a predator, almost as in invitation. Nole wanted this fight.

No going back now, Joseph was going to-

“Is there a problem here?”

Becenti strode over to the table, brow furrowed. Rosemary looked away, and Mallory suddenly found a renewed interest in her mashed potatoes. Nole didn't register Becenti's presence at first, wheeling on him, before he recognized the second-in-command. The troll's face fell.

“Err, just talking to the new kid, boss,” he stammered.

“Looks to me like you were looking for fresh blood, Mr. Nole,” Becenti said, “I am disappointed. We do not fight our fellows.”

“We...” Nole sighed, “We do not.”

“I'd advise you to go sit somewhere else. Same with you, G-Wiz. I saw you needling him on.”

“Oh, very well,” G-Wiz relented. Nole glared at Joseph, then the two walked to the other side of the room. A few of the guild members had turned to look at this scene – something Joseph felt embarrassed by – but soon went back to their meals. Renewed chatter drowned out the scene as Joseph sat down.

He felt Becenti's hand rest on his shoulder.

“Having trouble making friends, Mr. Zheng?” he asked.

“It's no problem,” Joseph scowled.

“Pull a stunt like that again, and I'm afraid there will be consequences,” Becenti said, “What I said to Nole applies to you as well.”

“...Fine,” Joseph said.

“Keep your nose clean, Mr. Zheng. It would be a shame if our newest member got a reputation for getting into immature spats,” Becenti gave a nod to Rosemary and Mallory, then walked away.

“Wow,” Mallory whistled, “You're lucky Becenti stepped in when he did. Nole would've floored you.”

“I would've had my pride,” Joseph retorted.

“And a black eye,” Rosemary said, “And probably a broken back. And neck. And-”

“Alright, alright,” Joseph said, waving her off, “I get it.”

“Seriously, though,” Mallory said, “Becenti was right. That was freaking stupid of you.”

Joseph sighed. The adrenaline of the situation was leaving his system, “It was, wasn't it?”

“Nole got a rise out of you. He's good at that,” Mallory said, “Look, once you go on a few jobs, he’ll probably leave you alone. He's like that with all of us. Even Rosemary. She broke his nose with that mace of hers.”

“Sceptre,” Rosemary corrected, “Sceptre.”

“You... broke his nose?” Joseph asked.

“I was angry,” Rosemary said, “And his nose is just so long and annoying. 'Course, Becenti put me on cleaning duties for a month after.”

Joseph shook his head, “Looks like he’s someone to avoid then.”

“Listen, Joe,” Mallory leaned in, “Just watch your back for a little while. Nole's not liable to forget insults and challenges.”

“Good to know,” Joseph said, “Good to know.”

Feeling a bit apprehensive, Joseph excused himself. As he walked out of the dining room, he noticed Nole's eyes boring into him.

***

The next two weeks went on with a rhythm Joseph was starting to find comfortable. He would get up in the morning, train in the garden with Mekke, eat, and then do whatever chore had been assigned to him that day. Some days, he was helping clean up bedrooms, or cutting the hedges in the garden, or tending to Becenti’s goats. Those were nasty chores, as the goats had a mixed diet of carrots, lettuce, and cow meat, biting at his fingers as he shoveled their meals into feeding troughs.

His favorite days, however, were when he was with Phineas, helping clean the kitchen after meals. He found this job easy, as the Deep One had a book with him from which he uttered a few spells that automated the sponges and soap dispensers in the kitchen.

“It is good,” Phineas said, “We now have time for our personal interests.”

“What do you do?” Joseph asked.

“Ahh, I prefer card games,” Phineas replied.

“Oh, like poker? Blackjack?”

“Are you aware of... Myth Battle?” Phineas asked.

“No, I'm not.”

And so Phineas got out two decks of cards, and showed Joseph Myth Battle, a trading card game with seven elements, several hundreds different kinds of cards, and gods and monsters from a thousand mythologies that Joseph didn't recognize. It reminded Joseph of the nerds in university, who kept to themselves in the library after class, shouting about black magicians or white dragons. Still, Joseph stuck to the game, partially for something to do, partially because Phineas seemed very obsessed with it.

“I have been playing Myth Battle since my spawning,” he jabbered, “My elder eggsister used to take me to tournaments when I was young, and always bought me a new starter deck for my Scaling Ceremony.”

“Your... Scaling Ceremony?” Joseph asked, flipping down a 'Dakos: Martian God of Desperation' onto the table.

“The... equivalent to a birthday. When I shed my scales and grow a new coat.”

“Oh, neat.”

Then they continued playing while the dishes washed themselves.

When he wasn't doing chores or training with Mekke, Joseph found himself going into the library. Barbara the toucan was intimidating, but once Joseph got to know her a bit, he found she was very helpful in finding books. She had an encyclopedic knowledge of every volume in the library.

“Oh, a book on planeshifting?” she said, her voice surprisingly deep and smooth, “Yes, yes, you will find everything on the history of planeshifting, as well as its initial trailblazers like the Brothers Shahad, upstairs, in section C.”

“Thanks,” Joseph said.

He would then plop himself at a table with multiple books, and spend time reading, trying to find anything that would help him get home. Planeshifting, he learned, without Traveling Points, used to be easy. However, it had gotten more and more dangerous with time, and planeshifting without a Traveling Point was like spinning a wheel. There was a chance he'd be able to get back home in one piece, but there was also the chance he'd die a horrible death, his soul scattered through the far expanse of reality.

But that wouldn't stop him. He just needed a way to avoid that.

Thus did Joseph spend his first weeks with the Amber Foundation, learning and training, preparing himself. He spent his time with Phineas and Mekke, and he avoided Nole. Sometimes he would see Broon, sometimes Ichabod would give him a snide remark in the hallways, sometimes he would wake up to see Chadwick outside the window, green eyes staring at him.

***

Then, one morning, he heard the familiar knocking on the door. Joseph got up, pulled his jacket on, and went to open it. Mekke was on the other side.

“Morning,” he said, “We training?”

“No,” she responded, “Today, sir, you have a job.”

Joseph froze at that. The familiar dread he had been feeling about the Amber Foundation crept back in as Mekke waited for a reply. Things had been getting comfortable. He had been doing his chores. He'd been training well...

But Wakeling's words echoed in his head. This was part of their deal. Free food, training, and bed. In exchange, he'd have to do the guild's work. He was a member, after all. Joseph nodded.

“Alright,” he said, “Where do I go?”

“Becenti will be going over the details. Follow me.”

She led him up multiple flights of stairs, to the top of one of the spires. Becenti's office was sparse compared to Wakeling's study – a single desk was set up in the middle of the room, a shelf full of paper was pushed to the side, and a diamond-patterned orange and blue blanket hung on the wall. Becenti was in front of his desk. Already waiting inside were Broon, Rosemary, and Contort.

“Thank you, Mekke,” Becenti said, “You're dismissed.”

Mekke nodded, closing the door. Rosemary gave Joseph an encouraging smile, while Contort gave him a lazy wave. Joseph walked up next to Broon, who was staring forward at Becenti.

“Ladies and gentleman, you are here because our Guildmaster decided you were good for the job,” Becenti started, “Three of you were involved with the skirmish aboard the Fortune's Favor two weeks before. Contort, you're here because you're reliable enough.”

“Thanks, bro,” Contort said, giving a finger gun to Becenti.

Becenti ignored him, pulling out – seemingly from thin air – a pack. Joseph's eyes widened as he realized it was the same pack Rosemary had been wearing onboard the airship.

“The egg,” Broon commented.

“Correct. The client has chosen a rendezvous point for the return of their egg to them,” Becenti said.

“After two weeks?” Joseph said, “I mean, that was a long time ago. I thought we returned that to them already.”

Becenti shook his head, “The client is being very careful about this job, Mr. Zheng. They've chosen a place on Londoa to meet them on.”

“Another local mission, then,” Rosemary pouted.

“I chose you because you've proven yourself well in a fight,” Becenti said, “Plus, you can help get Mr. Zheng up to speed on the politics of Londoa, since you've been on so many missions here.”

“Gee, thanks,” Rosemary said.

Becenti furrowed his brow, but ignored her as he continued, “Now, Mr. Zheng is here because he was involved with the airship, and by tradition, the first mission of a new member of our guild takes place here on Londoa.”

“This mission, though?” Broon asked, “With all due respect, getting that egg wasn't easy. A lot of other rival guilds were after it, too. It got rather hairy.”

“It's the only job we have here on Londoa at the moment,” Becenti responded, “Besides, Mekke says Mr. Zheng here's been making quite a few improvements in his combat capabilities. He'll be able to take care of himself for a second if he gets separated.”

Broon nodded. Joseph felt a bit small – he didn't like how he was being completely ignored.

“Which leaves you, Broon,” Becenti said, “You'll be leading this particular job. The client's chosen meeting point is Lake Oval, in Salthirn.”

That name registered something in Broon. The half-orc sagged a bit, “Aye,” he muttered.

“Use your connections to ensure you get through Salthirn safely,” Becenti ordered, “I understand that there's been quite a bit of political turmoil there, and I don't think our status as a guild will help you when you get out there.”

“I know a few people,” Broon said, “I'll call in a few favors. We'll get that egg to Lake Oval, no need to worry.”

Becenti nodded, “The client will be waiting for around a week. Get yourselves packed up and ready. Good luck. You're dismissed.”

They began streaming out of the room, one by one. Rosemary stayed behind.

“Er... sir?” she said, “The egg.”

Becenti's eyes widened. He handed her the pack, then went back to sit at his desk and pretend to be engrossed in paperwork. Rosemary winked at him, then went out the door.

“Right,” Broon said, “You heard him. We'll meet up in the Great Hall in an hour, got it?”

They nodded. Broon gave Joseph a pat on the shoulder as the group broke up. Joseph walked back up to his dorm, hands shaking a bit from nervousness. He made his way into his room. Phineas was at his desk, spellbook opened, a few Myth Battle cards flipping in his webbed hands. His globular eyes turned to face Joseph as he walked in.

“You are going out?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Joseph said, taking a ragged breath, “Going to a place called 'Salthirn.'”

Phineas nodded, “On Omasta Landmass. Local place, very nice. Lots of orcs.”

“Which must be why Broon's leading the mission, right?”

“Yes.”

The Deep One went back to his reading. Joseph looked over and he saw that, covering Phineas's spellbook was a magazine.

“What are you doing?” Joseph asked.

“I am supposed to be studying spellwork for guildmaster Wakeling. I do not want to do that, so instead I am pretending to be studying spellwork while I read a magazine on Myth Battle.”

“Anything... anything good?”

“I am excited for the new set,” Phineas explained, “It is called 'Battle for Asgard,' and features gods from a pantheon from a place known as 'Scandinavia.'”

“Hey, that's something from Earth!” Joseph exclaimed, “Where do they print those cards, anyways?”

“A place known as Prime,” Phineas said, “A world far from here. You said that Earth has a Scandinavia?”

“Yeah.”

“What others do they have?”

“Others they have?” Joseph was confused by the question, “Oh, like places. I mean, I've seen a few familiar faces here. Hermes, for example, in your aggro deck. He's from Greece.”

“A gift, then,” Phineas said, “To remind you of home.”

He slid a card out of his deck, depicting a man with wings on his feet and a staff with twin serpents coiling around it. The name of the card was 'Hermes: God of Messengers.' Joseph took it, looking at the card's art. Despite the relative corniness of its art, he felt a pang of home.

“Thanks,” he said, “Really, Phin. Thanks.”

Phineas nodded, “You are welcome. I know what it is like to feel homesick, even if the Amber Foundation is a new home.”

Joseph nodded, then went to look over his stuff. His old clothes were in the closet, but he had found the clothes the guild had given him to be satisfactory. Aside from that, he didn't have too much. Slipping the Hermes card into his pocket, he gave a wave to Phineas.

“Be sure to actually study,” he said, “Especially if it's for Wakeling.”

“I will at some point. When I finish my magazine.”

“Aight. See you.”

“Farewell, Joseph.”

***

Joseph, by virtue of the fact that he owned absolutely nothing save for the clothes on his back and a trading card, was in the Great Hall first. He waited for the hour. Contort joined up first.

“You excited?” he asked.

“A bit,” Joseph replied, “Nervous, mostly.”

“Ah, you'll be alright,” Contort laughed, “You need some fresh air!”

“I train every day outside with Mekke.”

“Some fresher air, then. You haven't been outside the castle, right? After this job's done, I'll take you to a bakery in town. Finest bread you'll ever dig your pearly whites into. They mix spiced nuts into 'em.”

Rosemary walked in a bit later.

“How you doing, Rosie?” Contort asked.

“I'm ready. Got my mace, got my cloak, got my armor on...”

“Do you have the potions?” Contort reminded, “It's your job to look after them, and all...”

“Oh, geez!” Rosemary ran back up the stairs. Broon came down the opposite stairway as she left. The half-orc was in full scale armor, a deep green cloth with the emblem of the Amber Foundation – a solid, golden oval with a white sword in the middle – resting on his left shoulder, where the stump of his arm was.

“Everyone ready?” he asked, “I saw Rosemary running to get something. Did she forget the potions again?”

“Yeah,” Contort replied, “Typical Rosie.”

Broon turned to Joseph, “Are you ready?”

“Just about,” Joseph responded. Broon gave him a look-over.

“You don't have a weapon,” the half-orc said.

“I, ah,” Joseph scratched the back of his head, “I don't have anything. Mekke was teaching me some hand-to-hand, though.”

“That will help somewhat,” Broon said, “But do you not have anything else? Do you know how to wield a blade?”

“No,” Joseph said.

“Have you firearms?”

“No,” Joseph said, “Should I go upstairs to grab one from the armory?”

Broon shook his head, “Firearms require a license from the Federation to use out on a low-tech plane like Londoa. It would take too long. Here-”

He pulled out a dagger from the pack he was wearing. It was simple and pointed, the handle's leather worn from use.

“You should always have a knife on you anyways. It's both a weapon and a survival tool. Contort here can teach you how to use it on our journey.”

“Ahh, why me?” Contort said, “I'm not that good, trust me.”

“Could've fooled me,” Rosemary said as she ran back over to join them, “You're one of the best knife-fighters in the guild.”

Contort pulled a face, but said nothing. Broon ignored his complaint and began walking to the double doors. The rest of the group followed, swinging the doors open and out into Scuttleway.