James woke up in the same bed he had been sleeping in since he was 3 years old. It was little more than a plank of wood with a thin blanket laid over the top. But it was home. The smell of coffee greeted him, as usual. His grandfather always had coffee made before he woke up. Sitting up he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Today was his sixteenth birthday. He had to a lot to do today. He had to go register as an adult and get his work certificate. 

James had been working with his grandfather for years in his salvage business. Through the use of explosives and hard labor, they dug out large chunks of steel and anything else precious they might find. His grandfather had a six square mile claim in the middle of what used to be a big city. They had done a lot of work over the years and his grandfather's business was good enough that they never went hungry. Which, by most standards, that was really good. Over the past four years, James had been learning the trade from his grandfather and working as an apprentice salvage tech. Those years had a great impact on James. As he ran his hands over his face, he could barely feel the stubble of his three days growth through the thick calluses on his palms. Criss-crossing scars marked up and down his thick and ropey forearms, all the way to his shoulders. His chest remained mostly unscathed, due to the protective vests that they were required to wear. That vest had saved him several times. 

James realized he was stalling, as he ran his hand through his long greasy hair, deciding to cut it later. It is not that he was lazy. James was up with the sun, every day. And most days he didn't go to bed till after dark. He simply did not know how to go about the things he had to do today. He needed to get his work permit and register as an adult for any possible future draft. He would have choices in the kind of work he would do. Each choice had good points and bad. The only three that he had any interest in were salvage, military service or laborer. Military service always comes with a big bonus. This is meant to help the family of the future soldier to survive without the added income of their child. The laborer tends to come with the next highest bonus as laborers are always needed but not really specialized. The salvage tech had a relatively small bonus but came with a lot of the equipment you would need to get started. That was what was expected of him, to follow his grandfather's lead and go into salvage. His grandfather had likely even cut him out a piece of his claim, that he could call his own. His claim was a full six square miles and he had been working that claim himself for over thirty-five years, yet he had only completely worked through one square mile. This is also a promising set up. Mostly, because his grandfather would leave his claim to him when he died. 

No matter what he picked, his life was going to change today. The smell of coffee beckoned him from his bed, so James reached over with his left hand and pulled back the curtain that was his bedroom wall. Throwing his legs over the side of his bed, he was now sitting at the breakfast table. James' house was... small. He could easily reach just about anything he needed from his current position; whether that be the coffee pot or the hot skillet filled with potato egg and sausage. He first reached for the coffee, knowing he needed some fortification to get through the day. A grunt was enough greeting for his grandfather. Neither of the two were morning people. They were always up with the dawn, they were just never happy about it. Pouring a cup of the strong, black sludge, that his grandfather called coffee, the ritual alone began to wake him up. Drinking half the cup in one go, he saw his grandpa had already taken his share of the food, so scraped the rest onto his own plate before he began eating. The taste of slightly burnt eggs and not quite cooked potatoes was familiar to him and reminded him of the years he had spent here. 

For thirteen years he had eaten the same breakfast. Slept in the same bed. Had the same gruff meal companion. But today everything would change. He would have to find his own place, a home that he could expand and build for a possible future wife and maybe children. Unless he went the military route. Then children were off limits unless you requested special dispensation and received permission. This was more because the army was co-ed than anything. Having pregnant soldiers running around would not do for the northern emperor. But the military would be the only way to realize his own dream. Ever since he was just a boy he had wanted one thing... to have his very own dragon. But, his grandfather was against the idea from the start. 

He had heard stories in town about the gruff and grouchy man sitting across from him. He looked like a man that knew how to work, with his long white beard and hair, bleached by the sun decades ago. Skin like leather with pink lines showing his scars and large knuckles. He could have easily been a fighter with fists like those. His grandfather was tough as nails. In his mid-fifties, he could still hold his own in the salvage game. Many of the town folk claimed he had been in the military for a part of his life. Some even claimed he had been a Rider. But, they say that he was discharged after some failure. Some say he lost his dragon. Others, that he slept with the wrong woman. The only thing that could be agreed on, was that he had come walking into town, over thirty years ago, with a young boy that called him father. That day he bought a few salvage claims and got to work. 

James had finished his food and looked up at the sound of his grandfather clearing his throat. "Today is an important day, Boy." He had called him that since he met James. "Today you choose your future. It is a choice all men must make on their own, so I will not attempt to sway you. Much like your father, I will simply say that I have done my best to make you the best and most capable man that I could. Regardless of what you choose, I will always be proud of you. Oh, and we must celebrate."

At that, the old man reached up into a cupboard that usually held his bourbon and tobacco, but instead pulled out a lovely little cake. The frosting was chocolate and the cake beneath was likely the same. Chocolate was James' favorite. "There is no way we can afford that, Grandfather! Why would you waste money on a cake? That must have cost two months earnings!" James was somewhat surprised at the appearance of the cake. Sugar was taxed extremely heavily and cocoa was just ridiculous. 

"Three, actually," the old man quietly retorted, as though uninterested in the argument, as he cut the cake into two pieces. "Didn't wanna make it myself, woulda ruined it. So I paid the midwife in town another months earnings, so she would make the cake." Sliding his portion into his dirty plate, he made a show of eating. Wanting to be mad though, repeatedly remembering that this was his last day here. Looking into the cake in front of him, James decided to enjoy the time he had. 

"Thank you, for the cake grandfather. It is my favorite flavor and I will cherish the memory." With that, they ate. And, once they were finished, James got dressed and left. He had things to get done and his grandfather had settled in for a day off. After James had said goodbye, his grandfather had told him to come by when he was done and he would have a few things for him. With that, James climbed up the ladder on the other side of his bed and out of the hatch that was his door. Closing the hatch behind him, he straightened up his cotton T-shirt and brushed dirt off his trusty blue jeans, before starting on his way to town. His ever present, thick soled, steel toed work boots kept his feet from feeling the jagged stones strewn about the ground on his walk. 

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His home was, to put it simply, a wasteland. Large portions of destroyed skyscrapers still reached several stories into the sky, dotting the horizon like distant and far flung mountains. They also reached deep beneath the ground he was currently walking on. He knew this because he had excavated a few with his grandfather, some going so far into the ground he thought they would fall out the bottom. But the bottom is what held the best prize. The old electrical generators that ran these buildings, held an alloy that was ten times stronger and more ductile than steel and worth fifty times as much. The best weapons and armor were made of that alloy. The local constable called it blue steel, though James' grandfather said that the man that invented it, called it mithril. He never knew why they would do that. The name did not even sound cool. 

The walk to town was a long one, though only about three miles in a straight line, one could never walk a straight line in a salvage area. Fallowing a path of green stakes that claimed a safe path, took James on a zig-zagging and twisting road that ended up being more like six miles of actual walking. It took a little less than two hours to get there, but by the time James arrived, it was obvious that the town was just waking itself up. Ramshackle wooden buildings sprung up on the outskirts, followed closely by more permanent and expensive brick and mortar buildings. At the center of town was the local constables office, probably the only building that was actually held up with steel beams and seamless stone on the outside. James had been inside before, on a few occasions, but today, he did not need to go inside. What he needed was around behind the office. He needed to go see the governor. 

Walking around the side of the building, he found the man he was looking for, sitting at a desk, under a canopy. The man in question was the governor and, to put it kindly, he was ugly. Or, as his grandfather put it, you could put dog shit in a blender, throw in gravel and moldy bread and the end result would still look better than our scarred up, one armed, one eyed governor who, was even more scarred up than James and his grandfather combined. He was also not alone. Less than tweny feet away, sat a large green and blue mottled dragon. Well, relatively large anyway. 

This was one of the smaller breed of dragon, used mostly for scouting and strafing ground forces. James' grandfather always said they were quick and scrappy little devils. Of course, by little he means that a full grown specimen is just under fifty feet from nose to tail, with half again in wingspan. However, compared to the heavyweight beasts, flying for the emperor, this guy was scrawny. The dragon yawned, showing a long thin purple tongue and rows upon rows of serrated triangular teeth, that were as big as James' open palm. He was not worried however, as long as he didn't threaten the dragon's rider, he would be safe. Walking up to the governor's desk, he stopped a few feet away and waited in respectful silence to be recognized. 

The governor was not in any hurry however and left him waiting there for a full five minutes, shuffling through random papers. This was likely just to ensure that James had become a more patient man. Ten years ago, he had yelled at the man after only a few minutes wait. Apparently, he was still being punished for that. Rather than sigh or fidget, he stood at attention, hands clasped behind his back and his eyes glued to the top of the governor's head. He knew any fidgeting or signs that he was in a hurry would only cause a longer wait. Thus, he stood there silently until the man recognized his presence. 

"Oh! Hello there James, I did not see you there. What brings you here today?" The line was delivered with a wide and friendly smile, only somewhat ruined by the lack of an eye in his left socket and that side of his face drooping slightly. 

"You know why I am here, governor Taylor. I need to register as an adult and get my work permit." James' answer was a flat monotone, only because he knew it would piss the governor off. "I am curious, has the bonus schedule changed, since two years ago?" The corner of his lip almost twitched. 

The governor's eye on the other hand, was definitely twitching. "Yes."

"Good to know, thanks."

"Indeed."

"Mmmm."

They stared at one another for another five minutes, the governor alternately growling, mumbling and twitching to the point of near spasms. James retained his schooled look of indifference. At the full five minute mark, the governor slammed his fist on the desk and the dragon raised his head and roared over James' head. He did not even flinch. 

"God damn you! James you are the son of a whore! You know that pisses me the fuck off!" The governors face was nearly purple. This time James could not help but laugh. The dragon seemed to join him, making odd chuffing noises through his throat. "You too, you overgrown, off colored cow! If I wanted your opinion, I would supply you with one!" After a few more minutes of them laughing at him, the governor began to join in. After a few minutes of good, deep belly laughter, the governor sobered and sat back in his chair, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I 'ave missed you, young man!" 

"I have missed you too, governor Taylor. Not many people are that easy to manipulate." With a wink and a smirk, he showed the governor it was all in good fun. 

"Right, well, it is time for you to fill out your draft papers and pick your profession. I told you some things have changed. The bonus for military service commitments has gone from twenty to thirty gold. This is likely because another territory war looms on the horizon. If you plan to pick that, I would suggest that you leave half the bonus with your grandaddy. Chances are good you will not live long enough to spend the full bonus." He said this with a heavy weight in his voice, making sure James understood he was serious and would not continue until James acknowledged the statement, with a nod and a gulp. 

I suppose that takes the military out of the options. If they are planning a war in the near future, they will send raw recruits to be talon-fodder, until the battalions get there. 

"The laborer profession bonus has gone down, from fifteen gold to ten, plus about sixty silver worth of equipment." The governor shuffled some papers around, going over five or six others, some including transportation to the work site. Finally he got to the last one that James was interested in. "The bonus for salvage has gone up from five gold to eight and 40 silver. It also includes a couple gold worth of equipment and a level three blaster's license. You will also receive two crates of dynamite and one full order of blasting caps as well as your standard two thousand yards of burning fuse." 

James allowed himself to go deep into thought about this decision. It was easy to say that he dismissed military service out of hand, but who is to say he would definitely not survive? Still, his grandfather expected him to go salvage and it was a job he knew how to do. The job also came with a monthly upkeep of a few sets of clothes and two of those nearly indestructible vests. In the end, he chose salvage. 

"James Procella, I hereby declare, in the name of the emperor, that you are fit to work in his name for the betterment of our empire."

"I swear to do so, on my honor and life as an empire citizen." James replied solemnly.

He was immediately given a bag of coin and vouchers for the equipment from the general store, signed by the governor.  Included was his legal work permit. With this in hand he went to the store to get the equipment set aside. He could not carry it all, but he did take a full case of dynamite and the fuse, plus both of the vests. Taking the items, he headed home. He had a lot of work to do and from now on, he would be doing it alone. But he walked with a purpose all the way back to his grandfather's house.