Much of the walk back towards their quarter was spent in silence. Rhys tried to lighten the mood several times, but his heart wasn’t in it. The last time someone in their neighborhood had received such a boon, it had been two days before his mining company had been transferred to the pits. The lot of them had died on their fourth excursion to the depths, boon or no. The family members of several of the dead had shortly thereafter received boons of their own; the Alteriad’s strange justice balancing the scales.

So, it was with no small amount of relief when Tarren pushed his way back into his family’s home, only to find them all present and seemingly well. His father, a tall, broad-shouldered man whose imposing frame was undercut by his gaunt, lined face, graying hair, and missing right arm, stood tending a kettle over their shared hearth. His mother stood in the corner, her narrow face animated and fierce eyes flashing as she murmured into a speaking stone, doubtless coordinating some aspect of the city’s civilian leadership. And, his brother, Albon, lounged at the table before one of the cups, a wry grin alight on his face.

Tarren glanced back out the still open door, spotting Rhys standing anxiously in the street where they’d parted. Giving his friend a relieved smile, Tarren waved him on, and Rhys’s shoulders loosened. He returned the grin before disappearing into the throng, heading to his own, much emptier abode.

Tarren closed the door firmly and took a seat at the table, claiming another empty mug.

“What’s got you down, brother?” Albon asked, jovial as always.

“I...” Tarren started to say, but something about the normalcy of the scene before him froze the words in his mouth.

“... Nothing.” He finished, lamely, before conjuring a smile instead. It came surprisingly easily in the light of their small home. “Just a long day.”

“Well, those stones won’t mine themselves!” Albon said, smirking.

Tarren thought of needling his brother for the comment, but put it aside. The fact that Albon’s class had never upgraded from that of an Unskilled Laborer to a Miner, like Tarren’s and their father’s had, oscillated between a source of great shame for his brother and a point of pride. Tarren inwardly thought it much more often the former than the latter, whatever Albon said about his class being reserved for something greater than a common stone breaker.

Instead, he asked, “And you? You seem happy, tonight, even for you.”

Their father, stoic as ever, poured hot water into each of the tea mugs, before sitting down himself. The stump of his right arm, missing below the elbow, flexed as he did so, the phantom hand still reaching for the arm of the chair as he sat.

“Good eye!” Albon said, “I have a surprise. Good news, to be sure.” He paused, then shrugged slightly. “Well, I will have a surprise. Soon.” He allowed. “But it’s big!” He added, excitedly.

“Have you finally found a way to advance your class, then?” Tarren’s mother asked, sitting down herself at the remaining chair. “Even a moderate increase in the allotment for the family would make a big difference, Albon.” She added, brusque and unfiltered as always.

Tarren didn’t miss how his younger brother’s eyes flashed at the comment, a hint of shame flushing his cheeks, but Albon didn’t let it show in his voice.

“I think so, Mother. But only time, and the grace of the Alteriad, will tell.” He said, meeting her eyes defiantly.

His father grunted at that. Of their family, only Albon held at all to the tenets of the Alteriad, a tension that had only grown after his father lost his arm in a tunnel collapse. But, it was a well-trod argument, and for once his mother seemed content to let it slide.

Instead, she took a careful sip of tea, movements precise and intentioned.

“I have news.” She said. “In five days time, there will be a city-wide assembly for the lower Classes. Broadcast at each of the outer rim node-stations. Attendance is mandatory.”

“Why?” His father asked, deep voice rumbling.

“I... I don’t know.” His mother replied, frowning slightly.

“They didn’t tell the labor council?” Tarren asked, surprised.

“Clearly not, else I would know.” His mother snapped in reply, irritated both at her ignorance and his useless question, Tarren was sure.

“Enough of that!” Albon said, before the conversation could drift further from his desired topic. “In preparation for my upcoming surprise...” he said, meeting all of their eyes, their mother’s exasperation sliding off his jubilant mood effortlessly, “I have a smaller surprise!” He finished, pulling a small wrapped package out of his robes.

He laid the package down on the table, and carefully undid the twine covering its paper wrappings, before pulling the folds apart. Inside, cut neatly into four pieces, was a single piece of fruit. Its pinkish skin and yellow, glistening interior a stark contrast to the plain grays of their stone home.

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“Albon!” His mother barked, surprised and angry. “Where... how did you get this!”

Their father, too, scowled and turned away. Tarren could only groan internally. He just hoped Albon hadn’t done something truly foolish, like stolen the fruit.

“Relax, mother!” Albon said, scowling in turn at their parents. “I’m not a fool. This was paid for. True and proper.” Their mother opened her mouth, but Albon overrode her, “And not out of my allotment! It was a gift. I wouldn’t have wasted any of our precious mana on such a superfluous purchase.” He added, sarcastically, though all at the table knew that was exactly something Albon would do.

“Who would give you such a gift? What did they want from you in return?” Their mother pressed, worry creasing her eyes.

“A friend, Mother. Someone who will help me find my path, and realize my true Class.” Albon said, gently.

“Did this come from the church? The merchant council? The m--” She questioned, ignoring Albon’s deflection, but then Terran’s father interrupted.

“Enough. Done is done. Enjoy your gift, Albon.”

“It is for us all, father! I got it to share!” Albon said. But despite his pleading tone, his father did not relent.

“Had you truly found a gift for the family, I would share it with you gladly. But all I see here are more chains, and empty promises. I will suffice on my allotment.” he said, coldly.

Albon’s hopeful face broke at once into a petty, ugly scowl. “Fine, then. Enjoy your tea.” He spat, and before anyone could say another word, he swept the fruit and wrapper alike back off the table and stormed out the door.

Tarren sat with his parents in silence for a moment, the tension rebounding in the empty room. Eventually, his mother turned to him, and sighed. “Can you go after him, Terran? Keep him out of any more trouble?”

“Sure.” Terran said, standing. He didn’t feel in the mood for tea, now, anyways.

It didn’t take long for Terran to find Albon. His brother sat nestled on a flat roof high along the cavern wall, three streets down from their family’s home. It was a favorite spot of his, and as Tarren completed the short climb up to his level and sat down beside him, he had to admit the spot had its charms. The city sprawled beneath them, opening up with the cavern, sparkling lights of glowstones casting the entire scene in flickering tones of orange and white. From this spot, even the distant towers in the Inner ring were visible, the metal spires and wooden manors like palaces of myth and legend next to the rough stone cubes dotting the outer districts.

Albon licked some final bit of juice from his fingers as the two sat.

“Ate the whole thing already, did you?” Tarren asked, after a moment. “Maybe your true class should be a Glutton.”

Albon scoffed and pulled the crumpled paper from his robes once more, the two remaining slices of fruit still glistening. Tarren plucked one from the wrappings and put it into his mouth. His taste buds abruptly exploded with flavor, sweetness so intense it nearly hurt and a hint of something sharper biting at his mouth as he chewed. Though the flesh of the fruit was tender, his jaw muscles still complained at the unusual exercise. Actual food was not a luxury their family could afford, not when their daily Mana allotments were sustenance enough.

Terran sighed as he swallowed the fruit, grinning despite himself.

“It’s good, right?” Albon said, smiling genuinely at Tarren’s reaction.

Tarren just nodded, still trying to savor whatever remained of the taste in his mouth.

“Go on,” Albon said, gesturing at the wrapping. “You know they won’t eat it now. Mother might have, had father... but now, no.” Grinning despite the topic, he continued “Otherwise I’ll just gobble it up like the glutton I am.”

This time, it was Tarren’s turn to snort, but he did take the final piece of fruit. He ate it slowly, trying to make the taste last as long as possible. But still, in no time at all, the fruit was gone, and he was relegated to licking for any lost juices on his fingertips just like Albon had.

“They worry about you, you know.” Tarren said, finally, breaking the companionable silence. “That’s all it is. They just want you safe. Able to sustain yourself. To survive.” He added, though he knew the reminder of the days when Albon, stuck as a basic Laborer, failed to meet his daily allotment haunted his brother.

“Ha!” Albon laughed derisively, without mirth. “So you mean there isn’t any thinly veiled shame? Shame at my inability to rise to the somehow exalted position of an Advanced Laborer? Of a Miner, like you and Father? So I too can lose a limb in the mines, or die in the pits? Or maybe so I can be lucky and slowly waste away from lungrot?”

He angrily swatted a piece of chipped stone off the roof, watching as it clattered down to the cavern floor below.

“I don’t want to be a Laborer any more than they want me to be. But is it so bad I don’t spend all my days trying futilely to get a Miner’s class? Or a Builder’s? I went through the choosing just like anyone. The fact that I didn’t receive a class isn’t any fault of mine. I want... I deserve... more. We all do. I’m just willing to go out and look for it!” He finished, hotly.

Tarren could tell he had practiced this explanation. Repeated it to himself on sleepless nights, after he had snuck back out to the Node, to try, once again, to elevate his class. Or worse, on nights when only his father’s reputation, or his mother pulling strings, had saved him from some ill-fated scheme or other. But Tarren didn’t push him on it. Nor did he deny their family’s shame.

“Still. They worry.” He said, instead.

“Hmpf.” Albon snorted, in reply, but didn’t refute the point.

“Come on.” Tarren said, eventually, pushing himself to his feet wearily. “We should get back.”

“You go on ahead.” Albon said, staring at the city, eyes still hard and angry. “I’m going to sit here a while longer.”

Tarren hesitated, but Albon spurred him on. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to do something stupid. I already have my surprise, remember? I just... I need some time. To think.”

Tarren hesitated, but ultimately, he knew he needed rest. Unlike his brother, whose work came in fits and starts, determined only by the daily offers to the pool of Unclassed Laborers, he had a quota for tomorrow. And his bones already ached for sleep. So, turning away from Albon, he returned to their family’s home, and fell asleep under his thin blanket as the waning glowstones flickered in the street beyond.