Tom sauntered over toward the city gate. There was a line of people waiting to enter, but it wasn't overly long. It was a usual mixture of traveling merchants with their carts, farmers from nearby villages, craftsmen and an occasional band of mercenaries. A few less prominent Delvers were there too, awaiting their turn; the big shots had a separate queue, along with the likes of nobility or high-end business people.
He paused for a moment to admire the view. The city of Arkmush wasn't particularly big by the standards of Earth - maybe seventy thousand souls, all told, crammed into a rather small area within the city walls. But it was old, and its walls were the best proof of that. Exactly how old was difficult to tell. The myriad different sections of the walls, patched over and over through the dozens of centuries of its existence, were as diverse as the city itself. It was a veritable carnival of materials, colors, techniques and technologies, protections mundane, mystical and magical. Spell frameworks were carefully woven into polymer armor plates, whose surface was painted with hieroglyphs warding from ghosts and other phantasmal threats. Whatever fancy material Delvers found in ruins had a chance of being incorporated into the city’s defenses.
The wall was, at the same time, a monument to human ingenuity and a testament to their failings. No one knew how many of the protections were truly active. Some were known to shine with magical might only to crumble into dust for no apparent reason. Others, seemingly inert, would block an earth-shattering attack with no visible strain. Yet for anyone but the highly-trusted professionals tasked with improving the wall itself, looking too close into it was heavily frowned upon. It was too prominent to be ignored by the fools; on a regular basis, the next idiot would be caught, seemingly oblivious to the dangers an unauthorized examination would provoke, thinking themselves the one to uncover the Mystery Of Whatever District. A couple of months in the mines were typically an excellent way to teach them the wisdom of minding their own business.
The less lucky ones... didn't quite live to tell the tale or were in such a state that they wished to be dead instead. The curses were the leading cause, but a lightning bolt was another popular choice for built-in anti-tampering defenses. Then again, some proper defenses were so old and prone to a malfunction that an errant breeze could set them off. The work on the wall was well paid but dangerous too.
All in all, the wall was in equal measure: fascinating and terrifying.
As he neared the gate, Tom spotted a blackened outline on the pavement. Officially, someone tried to smuggle dangerous materials into the city, and the defenses acted autonomously, vaporizing the unlucky fellow. It was touted as a success of the city's defenses, and much back-patting happened. But few were buying that; smuggling was a lucrative occupation with a flourishing workforce, so why single out one guy? By pure chance, Tom learned that the one that died was an off-duty guard. This gave some credence to the smuggling story but also hinted that foul play was the incident's root cause.
This only meant it was better not to piss off the gate guards. Not exactly breaking news.
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If you were to be a resident of Arkmush, you'd better not be claustrophobic. Or agoraphobic. Truth be told, there were probably dozens of phobias that Arkmush’s chaos would trigger.
The wild amalgam of people huddling in the safety of the city wall was both oppressive and incredibly lively. It was the destination for the aspiring Delvers to get into the business, but it was also a staging point for the more established teams. And that brew industry.
Whatever artifacts or alien technologies were uncovered in the various ruins of the region were eventually brought here to be inspected, cataloged, sold - and put to use.
The results were visible everywhere. No two buildings were alike, yet each one trying to outdo its neighbors. Some of them used expensive materials arranged tastefully (or not, as was more common). Others combined exotic materials with strange techniques. More practical features could be found among the craftsmen. One tanner had a stone tablet installed in his workshop, taken from an ancient tomb. True to the classics, it was cursed: it made people unable to smell anything in a large radius. The difference between a curse and a blessing was often a circumstance as it turns out.
The buildings were relatively tame when compared to the actual streets.
A wild riot of people in colored clothing, armor or wearing bizarre gadgets; street vendors offering food both mundane and artifice-produced. Comedians showing off their tricks freely sprinkled with harmless (supposedly) artifacts behaving in odd ways. A man juggling knives? Why, the knives could actually fly and perform the tricks themselves. Sometimes without the man noticing.
By far, the greatest number of people traveled by foot. Yet the merchant carts and other vehicles of business were a common sight. The dependable ones were animal-driven. Not especially fast, yet rather simple in maintenance. The risk of catastrophic failure of horse or mule was rather low; hence, it was favored by those businesses that valued stability and low costs.
Yet some enterprising souls had fancier rides. For example, right next to Tom was a man driving a sturdy metal cart. The metal frame was an oddity on its own, but the massive boulder it carried took the spotlight. The cart should have been crushed ten times over, but that just didn’t happen. Some weight-reducing runes must be at work here, which also explained the tiny donkey pulling it uphill without an issue. It was remotely possible that the donkey was magical too, but probably it was simply the cheapest one available.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Who needed such a big stone or how the man got this business was a mystery.
Not too far away, another cart was rolling. This one had a massive hairy spider hitched to it. It was surprisingly docile, but Tom had suspicions regarding the little bells tied to its abdomen. They looked magical, and magic items tended to break in the least fortunate times.
Compared to all of this? Tom looked absolutely and completely boring. A middling Delver with mundane equipment, starry-eyed and hoping to make it big with a lucky find or two. Not especially bright but rather harmless overall.
It was a carefully cultivated image.
After all, it often paid well to be underestimated.
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The Delvers Guild occupied a sprawling complex of buildings in one of the prominent districts of the city. Non-members would visit the main hall, where job contracts were posted, and various other businesses were conducted. This was also the place for wannabe Delvers to register, assuming they met the requirements. The entire place projected an aura of wealth, status and power. Marble floors, golden ornaments and several ostentatious enchantments would never take a grand prize for the most sublime decor, but they got the message across.
The main reason for this dubious design was its impression on the simple folk trying to start a career as Delvers.
It worked without fail.
Like clockwork, a bunch would register and take their mandatory starter mission each day. They would leave, bright-eyed, in search of a better future.
Many wouldn't be heard from again.
It wasn't even negligence from the Guild or any ill-intent; the Guild wanted these people to succeed. After all, being a Delver was a dangerous line of work, and they always needed new members. The old ones had an unfortunate tendency to die horrible deaths on the job.
Many said that being a Delver required courage. In Tom’s view, all that was needed was a certain lack of imagination and a healthy dose of foolhardiness. A suitable System was a welcome thing, too, although famously, Jay the Bard was a professional musician for many years before becoming a top-tier Delver.
With a spring in his step, Tom approached the receptionist.
"Hello, my name is Thomas Wyll. I'm here to turn in my starter mission." He smiled brilliantly at the man.
The receptionist was an image of professionalism, as he replied.
"Certainly, Mr. Wyll. Please, go to room thirteen. Our representative will be with you shortly."
"Shortly" turned out to mean a good fifteen minutes, but Tom wasn't worried. Covertly, he scanned his surroundings with a spiritual sense and spotted the representative relaxing in his office, unbothered by the applicant waiting in the next room. A clear intimidation tactic on his part; Tom could easily tell.
Finally, the man deigned to come over. He held a folder with Tom's application in hand.
"Ah, mister Wyll! Congratulations are in order. I hear that your first mission was success?" the representative greeted him upon entering the room.
"Thank you, sir Bushell.” It was the same guy who handed him the crooked mission. “It all went fine, although it took me a while to find the place. But maybe the monsters were messing with me. They had this weird camouflage thing going, see? I'm glad my perk took care of it."
Leaning in, the representative nodded with a fake expression of interest. Although he was remarkably good at faking it, Tom judged.
"Sounds like a dangerous enemy. I'm doubly glad you've made out fine. Please, tell me everything" said the representative, Adam Bushell, seemingly moved. Perhaps his System helped out with acting?
Tom pretended not to notice the overt attempt to get him to spill his secrets.
He did it with pleasure, talking for the next half an hour about his great battles and showcasing the salvaged monster cores. A bare five of them - others ruined in a fight, sadly - were quickly grabbed by the representative. Towards the end, the man's patience began fraying. This was too much detail, and most of it was completely irrelevant. It was also mostly fabricated, although believably so. He had a deep understanding of Rol-Gath at this point. Although he didn’t mention the name even once, instead calling them "scary spiders" or some variation thereof. It seemed to tick off the Guild manager in a peculiar way. He tried not to cringe, but microexpressions were hard to suppress fully, System assistance or not.
Maybe he was selling the bumbling fool image a little too much. Or maybe not? The man was building his profile, which focused on fight abilities, but psych eval was part of it too.
It was good business to have simple-minded, able-bodied Delvers. On the other hand, the cunning ones were riskier investments. They were bound to ask pointed questions, such as "where is the money for the cores you took?".
Tom wasn't such a person. No, sir, not at all! Just like he wasn't a person to hide a veritable slaughter he partook in or the fact that he defeated multiple Tier 5s. A "fresh" Delver performing such feats? It would raise so many flags they would need to make an extra few just for him.
Finally, they were done. With a brilliant smile, the manager handed him his brand-new guild badge.
He was in.
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Name Thomas Wyll System Curiosity Class Divine Seeker Tier 2 Level 13 Progress to next level 82% Mind 42 Body 24 Spirit 53 Health 230/230 Mana 1030/1050 Akashic resonance 513 Potentia 290/300 Essence 12352 Divine providence 5