I was walking along the main road, a straight road that bisected the city starting from the north gate until the southern gate, my eyes on the lookout for a big shiny yellow building. I asked one of the guards for directions, and he gave me the same directions as Gillen did. Trust, but verify. The kid was helpful, but I just wanted to be sure.

On the way, I saw plenty of things that looked interesting and caught my eye. And I was far more receptive to them than I would have been the previous day.

Something resembling a medieval hot dog cart was selling skewers of some kind of meat to passersby. A store with a crier out front proclaimed his store’s wares were imported from a tier 1 city. Some people who had an air of importance about them, as they rode armored bicorns and wore shining full plate armor, rushed past pedestrians on their mounts.

A pet store with a veritable medley of creatures had children and adults alike scrutinizing them. Some of the animals, I noticed, weren’t caged or contained in any way, just lying down or relaxing on the floor. The uncaged beasts drew more attention than the caged ones for some reason. The beasts didn’t attack or react in any way to customers approaching or even touching them. Are they selling tamed beasts as pets? It made sense to me. I would probably visit it later once I had enough funds.

Soon enough, I laid eyes on the Workman’s Society building. It really was exactly as described. A big, yellow, shiny building. It stood three stories tall, towering over the other buildings adjacent to it. For a second I thought it was only yellow due to the sun reflecting on it, but no, it really was just that yellow from every angle, all the time. The shininess I attributed to some kind of magic, as evidence would seem to indicate most things magical either glowed, shined, or otherwise lit up in some way.

It bore similarities to a modern-day corporate office, with large marble doors open in the center of the ground floor, and the shiny surface almost reminding me of glass. There was an emblem to the left of the doors, of a stylized depiction of a man and woman standing across from each other and clasping each other’s forearms, in camaraderie or something akin to it. On the right side of the doors were more unreadable, glowing lines of text. It was a shorter sentence, I guessed, as it only seemed to be made of a few words. Likely their motto.

I was cautiously hopeful that things would turn out okay here. It was close to a feeling of ‘I can manage to not totally screw this up’. Which surprised me as I had never been that optimistic before. Enough stalling. Just do it, and try to minimize how much you stand out.

I walked in, and was stunned once again by what I saw. If the inn I was staying at had a wooden motif, this building most definitely had an earthen one. The walls were like limestone, but condensed to the point it looked almost metallic. The floor was almost a carbon copy of the roads outside, that same concrete-looking substance smoothed out, only a slightly brighter shade. There were tables and chairs organized neatly in a corner of the massive floor, at least a hundred of each made from literal sandstone. Employees, easily recognizable due to their yellow outfits and an emblem on their chests that matched the one plastered on the building’s exterior, were standing behind a large black marble countertop at the back of the floor, partitioned into different sections, similar to a cubicle or cage that a bank teller would use.

There was a grand staircase behind the counter that presumably went up to the higher floors. On both the walls, on the parts of them closest to the employee area, were large cork boards, with a multitude of papers pinned to them. I couldn’t make out what they said from here, nor would I be able to even if I got closer, but they looked like bounty posters. There was a large picture at the top, then some text under it.

“Can I help you?” One of the employees had walked up to me while I was lost in the view, too absorbed to notice.

I tore my eyes from the walls and looked at the woman. She was roughly my height, and maybe a bit older than me, mid-twenties at most? That damn time difference…she probably thought of herself as only…thirteen, if my mental math was correct? Maybe fourteen? I would have to adjust my frame of reference.

Her brown hair and eyes were very… I wouldn’t say familiar, but she just had one of those faces. Something about the shape of her nose and cheekbones…

“Sigh, you don’t know me. I’ve never met you before.” she said in an almost angry tone.

‘What?” I asked.

“If I had a square for every person who said I looked familiar to them, I would be able to buy this whole city. Look, I don’t know what it is about me that makes people say that, or think it. I’ve heard literally everything. Eyes, ears, nose, one moron even mentioned my hips. My mother looks almost exactly the same as me, and people never come up to her and say those kinds of things. I mean, really, I’m just trying to –” She stopped mid-rant as she collected herself, using my schtick of closed eyes and deep breathing, before she opened her eyes and looked at me again.

“I’m sorry about that. It’s just…really, really, annoying how often it happens. So, once again, how can I help you?” She asked me, her professionalism shining through as the earlier remnants of her frustration melted off her face, replaced by the ubiquitous smile of customer service workers.

“Um, yeah, I’d like to register. As a new…worker?” I asked hesitantly. She nodded and smiled.

“Of course, right this way.” She motioned for me to follow her and we went across the room, all the way to the staircase going up, and down.

“Is there a lower floor? I couldn’t tell from outside. Or inside for that matter.” I asked her.

“There is, but it’s mostly storage.” She answered with a non-answer, something I was very adept at doing. I noted it as something potentially important, but it wasn’t immediately relevant at the moment

We headed up the stairs to the next floor. It was nearly identical to the ground floor, only the staircase opened up at the opposite end, above where the building entrance was on the ground floor. Another staircase was on the other end of the floor, again dividing a countertop of faux bank teller cubicles, where it probably led to the top floor.

We headed to a cubicle on the far end of the counter. There was nobody else there, except for her and me, so she didn’t lead me here out of privacy.

Idiot. This is probably her cubicle.

She laid a metallic card on the counter, and a divider rose up, letting her through. After she sat down, the divider fell down, merging perfectly with the countertop. I didn’t even react at the casual display of magic. I assumed her card acted as an employee ID, similar to the one Gillen had shown me, only hers was for accessing employees-only areas. She got out a quill and some paper, then started writing.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Now, let’s get you registered. I’ll just ask for your personal details and you tell me as much as you wish. Just for transparency, the more you tell me, the better it is for you when you’re taking tasks. And of course, if you have any questions, just ask, and I’ll do my best to answer you. Are you ready?” she asked me, that professional smile on her face.

Seriously, does everyone in this city take smiling lessons or something?

“Yeah, sorry, just, can I have your name?” I asked her.

“Of course, it’s Ennin. And what a fitting question, as it’s the same one I need to ask of you.” she replied.

Shit. Here we go again.

“It’s Rhaaj.” I said quietly.

She paused in her writing, looking up at me, the smile still on her face. And while it was still professional, it became far wider and more genuine, until at last the dam broke, and her shoulders shook as she covered her mouth to cover up her snorting laughter.

“Hahaha, I’m sorry,” she said as she wiped a tear from her eye, “I’m not laughing at you, it’s just, this is the first time I’ve met someone like me. You know, someone who has to deal with annoying comments everyday because of something outside their control. It’s just nice to meet a fellow sufferer, I guess.”

“...Sure, I guess,” I hesitantly replied.

“Now, let’s start over. Name, we covered that, age?” she asked.

I had enough time while I was walking on the way here to determine my age here via math, converting from Earth days to…this unnamed planet’s days.

“14.” It was weird to think of myself as a teenager, but hey, math doesn’t lie. I even double-checked my work.

“Race?”

“...Human. Is it not obvious?” I asked, a little panicked.

“It is, but I still need to ask. It’s part of the standard set of questions for newcomers. The questions are actually standardized across every branch, in every continent.” She replied.

“Where were we, ah, birthplace?”

Shit. A hurdle already. Just go with the villager story. At least Gillen claimed it made sense for a villager to not know anything. That’s my cover story from now on, then.

“Uh, my… village… didn’t really have a name,” I said awkwardly. I was hoping to pass off my awkwardness as belonging to a country bumpkin compared to a world traveler.

“Tier 7, or tier 8?” she asked in response, no pause in her reply.

The fact that it worked, apparently, threw me a little bit. But not as much as the term ‘tier’ being used again, and in a context I hadn’t deduced yet. I knew there was a tier 1 city, my bone dagger was tier 3, and apparently, villages were either tier 7 or 8. The tiers could go from worst to best, or best to worst. Hell, for all I knew, there were no permanent tiers at all. Rather than spend any more time pondering something I had no knowledge of, it was better to just find out as soon as possible. Might as well go for broke with the whole village idiot persona.

“Um, what are tiers?” I asked quietly and nervously.

That got her attention. She looked up at me from her paperwork, her eyes wide.

Did I mess up? Shit, shit, shit. How bad is it? Should I just run out of here? Can I still –

She sighed and went back to her paperwork, shaking her head as she did so. “Tier 8, then. I’m amazed you managed to make your way to a tier 3 city in one piece. Well, as for your question, I’d advise against asking things like that to other people. A lot of citizens look down on villagers and townies. Not me,” she said in a panic, “my uncle retired and moved to a village in the south, but plenty of other people.” Then she started lecturing me on various cases of discrepancies between the social classes, and some gossip about how treatment varied depending on a number of factors.

Something about the way she spoke was familiar. Mixed with her looks, it annoyed the hell out of me that I couldn’t place how or even if I knew her.

And then it clicked, and I was embarrassed that it took so long for me to connect the dots.

“Wait,” I said, raising a hand to interrupt her monologue of how her uncle would always bring gifts from the village whenever he would visit her family. “Are you related to that kid Gillen?” I asked.

“You know my brother?” she screamed, astonished.

I started chuckling in relief. She was familiar to me. She looked like Gillen, if he were older, female, and taller. But it was just something about the shape of their faces that matched. The bridge of the nose, or the eyes. And then their manner of speaking. That was definitely a common trait, probably passed down from their mother, if Gillen’s stories held any truth.

I tried to stifle my laughter so I could reply. I stopped and breathed deeply, trying to calm myself.

“I’m staying at the inn near the west gate where he’s working. So you’re the sister who fights with mommy over sweets, huh?” I asked teasingly.

“I swear that little brat has a tickle torture session headed his way tonight. So you really do know him?” Ennin asked me.

“He helped me out, told me a bit about how only villagers and idiots don’t know about the Workman’s Society, and I suppose I fall into both of those categories.” I reached up and scratched the back of my head in embarrassment. She just sighed and took it in stride.

“Well, given your background, it makes sense you don’t know about tiers. We’ll just come back to that topic after we finish up the process. Let’s just get this over with first, then I’ll answer any questions you have on anything. Let me see, name, age, race, birthplace, ahh here it is. Affinities? You know what those are, right?” Ennin asked me.

“No, sorry. But, I do know a taming spell.” I said excitedly.

“Taming? That's something, but not the most sought-after ability of workers. Well, we don’t have an affinity board here, so I’ll just put down ‘unknown’ for now, then you can update it later. Next is…I’m guessing you don’t have any combat training? Weapons, magic, anything besides taming?” she asked.

I just shook my head. The few spars with the convoy guards using a shortsword wasn’t worth that much in the grand scheme of things.

“I don’t have combat training, but I've killed a couple voranders. Just outside the city, actually.” I said morosely. Thinking back to yesterday put me in a bad state of mind, so I stopped remembering and just focused on Ennin’s face, looking at me with concern.

“Are you okay?” I nodded.

“Have you told the guards? They need to be informed whenever an attack happens.” she said hurriedly.

“Someone else told them, I think,” I said. Elius or the merchants had probably informed the guards, if that was the protocol.

I just shook my head, trying to move on. “Anything else you need to ask me now?”

“Erm, I’m guessing you don’t have any formal education?” she asked. My head shake was enough of a response for her. It’s not exactly like I can show them my high school diploma or undergrad degree. “Then I think we’re finished. If you could just place your hand here,” she said, pointing out another metal card on the counter, her notes next to it.

I placed my hand as directed and after I felt a tiny pick like a needle drawing blood, an actual drop of my blood fell onto the card.

What happened next was amazing, as the card glowed red, then that transparent blue-white I had seen from other enchantments. After that, a picture of my face appeared on the card, as if it was taken with a high-definition camera, along with my name, race, age, and every other detail Ennin had just asked me. And how did I know that?

Because all of a sudden, I could actually read it.

“SONOFABITCH! ARE YOU KIDDING ME!” I was on my feet and hysterical. The staff, Ennin especially, were startled at my outburst, flinching or falling off their chairs.

“What’s wrong with you?! Why did you scream?” Ennin asked me after she recovered.

I definitely couldn’t tell her that I was illiterate until twenty seconds ago and that I had probably grown a few gray hairs over how stressed I was trying to determine how long it would take for me to learn how to read, or whether it was even possible.

“Sorry, I just…I’ve just ... .never ... .seen... .that kind of magic before…”I said lamely, and somewhat louder than usual.

Village idiot trope to the rescue.

She just closed her eyes and sighed again. “Well, try and get used to it, because there’s plenty of magic and magical effects that you’ll be seeing from now on. Speaking of which…” She pointed to the card that I was staring at.

I looked at it properly as I picked it up. It did look just like the one that Gillen had shown me earlier. Only, mine had my personal details on it. I turned it over, and saw a bunch of what I could now recognize as 8’s next to various symbols. A sword, basket, quill, barrel, and a stylized depiction of wind, along with many other ones.

“I don’t suppose you could explain what these mean right now?” I asked her, pointing at the symbols on the back of the card.

“I really want to, but the morning rush is about to start, and it gets pretty crazy down there. Do you mind if we do it later?” I could tell she wasn’t just brushing me off, the increasingly loud noises coming from downstairs proving her point.

“Sure, whenever you’re free.” I offered.

“You’re staying at the Teahouse, right? The inn by the west gate? I’ll come over later and we can talk it out, I promise. I need to pick up Gill anyways, so it’s not a problem.” She practically ran down the stairs, holding my hand, dragging me down with her. We were following after her colleagues on this floor who had already headed down while we were talking.

As we got to the ground floor, I saw a scene of utter chaos. To say it was a free-for-all wasn’t too far from the truth. There was a mix of people in front of the cork boards assaulting each other with both words and blows. People were biting, screaming, punching, kicking, and doing nearly everything short of using weapons on each other. I saw one old man accidentally get elbowed in his, ahem, delivery mechanism, falling to his knees and quivering on the floor behind the rest of the combatants.

The morning rush proved to be more than just a bit crazy.