“I don’t think she likes you very much,” Kevin said, watching the receptionist glare at Agent Travis. Well, he assumed she was glaring at the agent, he couldn’t see a reason for her hatred to be directed his way.
The young woman had been all smiles when they arrived. Then Travis flashed his OIM credentials, and they’d been sent to wait in the corner.
“It’s not personal,” the other man shrugged, an unconcerned look on his face. Our organizations are feuding at the moment. They don’t like how we do our own hiring, instead of cutting them in.”
“And they’re probably still mad at how we got access to this information,” the agent chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. “They have to give us access with a half-hour warning, and they’ll make us wait out every second.”
Kevin’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to stare at the other man. Was that a joke? Or perhaps not; the receptionist’s disdain was genuine. Either way, it would be sure to pass the time.
“Well, don’t leave me hanging,” he urged the other man with a grin.
Agent Travis stared into the distance, a wistful look flickering across his face. “It was actually how I met Susan. I worked on a deal to access the DOJ’s locational job data last year. Back when I was still in bureaucratic support.”
“Our negotiations started well, however, they fell through when the DOJ wanted too much in return. I thought it was all going to fall apart and leave a nasty mark on my record until headquarters pushed to settle the matter with a duel.”
“OK, now I know you’re joking,” Kevin snorted, shaking his at the absurdity of government agencies using fights to solve their arguments. “There’s no way that’s real.”
The agent blinked in response. “How else would we settle our differences?”
Kevin stared at the other man’s straight face, and a hint of doubt wormed its way in. It still sounded ridiculous, but they were in a bizarre cultivation world. “By talking it out?”
“Yes, I just said that we tried that first. When they wouldn’t be reasonable, we had to force the issue,” Agent Travis shrugged. “No one would want to bother the council with someone so miner, so we settled it the old-fashioned way. It’s quite common.”
“I see,” Kevin’s tone was faint. “Yeah, that’s totally reasonable, then.” He’d thought the OIM’s floor full of powerful cultivators had just been for emergencies, but it seemed they did double duty bullying other agencies.
Agent Travis nodded back, his face serious. “So they sent Susan down as our ringer; an expensive choice, but our reputation was on the line now. And get this, she showed up in one of those fancy party dresses instead of her robes.”
“She looked amazing in it,” the man’s face was back to being wistful for all he claimed he wasn’t interested. “And the DOJ completely underestimated her, even though you could still tell she was Core Formation.”
“So they put in this cheap choice; a guy in the same realm, but not one with much combat experience. And she crushes the guy in less than a minute without even changing clothes.”
Agent Travis was laughing by the time he finished, and Kevin found himself joining in. It was a rather amusing story, even if the connotations were concerning. If government departments still used duels, how bad would it be in the sects?
“So how did you end up becoming an agent, then?” He asked out of curiosity and a desire to keep building a report. It was always smart to maintain a good relationship with the person managing your life.
“That’s the best part,” the man grinned, face lighting up far beyond his usual taciturn expressions. “Since we won the agreement with a duel, we didn’t have to give the DOJ a thing in return.”
“The whole thing turned into a massive success, and then I found out a month later Susan had nominated me for probationary agent. Since the fight was over so fast, we’d ended up talking for a while, and I must have impressed her somehow.”
“So that’s how she ended up as your mentor?” Kevin asked
“Yeah, caused quite a stir as well. One of the few special agents in the whole office, and she picks a random nobody?” A flicker of doubt crossed the man’s face, then he rallied. “And now I’m a full agent after six months, so I guess she picked well.”
“That she did,” Kevin grinned, clapping Travis on the shoulder in congratulation.
It felt like slapping a stone wall.
Rubbing his smarting hand with a frown, Kevin let the conversation lapse as he flipped open Sealed Land Cultivation Method to the first page.
He had a long way to go.
----------------------------------------
“What kind of work are you looking for?” Agent Travis asked, flipping through files in one of the fifty boxes the DOJ had dumped in the conference room with them. “Any skills I should know about?”
The otherwise spacious room felt confining, with so many spilling out over its massive, varnished wood table. From what he’d seen so far, the DOJ wasn’t any more conservative with their wealth than the OIM had been.
It felt like they were in one of those lawyer shows where the big, bad law firm was drowning the plucky, upstart lawyers with mountains of paperwork. While the agent seemed happy with his deal, Kevin couldn’t see how this was better than an amicable arrangement.
“Sales and negotiation, mostly,” Kevin said, pulling a stack out to look through. “Some technical skills too, but none would be relevant here.”
He’d been getting better at avoiding the subject of Earth, instead phrasing things in a way that made the situation clear without threatening his contract. “Oh, and I can read and write. Seems the translation spell stretches to that as well.”
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
“However,” he looked back at the cultivation booklet he’d placed to the side so it wouldn't be lost. “Something involving mindless manual labor would be best. I skimmed through the Sealed Land method, and it doesn’t look like I have to stay still to make it work.”
“I’m sure it will be harder to focus when I’m doing something else, but I might still be able to make a little progress,” he finished.
Agent Travis shook his head, amusement clear on his face. “Weren’t you just telling me you were going to need a break from cultivation less than an hour ago?”
“That’s true,” Kevin glanced away, “However, the method says the more you focus on it, the faster you’ll finish. And changing location’s almost as good as a break, anyway. If I can make some money and make progress as well, then all the better.”
It wouldn’t do to say he was feeling inadequate again. As much as he tried to ignore it, the agent was blazing through the files at an unbelievable pace. The experience was a little too close to memories of slowing down at work as he grew sicker.
That had been a hard experience when he’d been so used to being among the best, and it wasn’t any harder to face now that he was healthy again and still behind.
“Well, I won’t talk you out of working harder,” the agent responded with a light chuckle. “Finding something suitable shouldn’t be too difficult, farming towns always have plenty of work this time of year.”
“Just make sure it’s not where I arrived,” Kevin frowned. “I don’t think they liked me very much.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Agent Travis responded. “How about this one?” The agent held out a folder he’d somehow extracted from the mess in record time.
Had he just grabbed one at random? Or had he discerned a pattern in minutes? Opening the file, Kevin’s eyebrows rose when he saw it was a decent match.
Instead of the farming work they’d discussed earlier, it was a job at a quarry. The work sounded difficult, but might still match what he was after. They were accepting part-time applicants as well.
“Ah,” he said a minute later, as he flipped through to the available accommodation section. As much as he might dislike the DOJ’s practice of monopolizing its information, he had to admit they did good work.
“This says the village only has rooms above a pub available for rent. Something quieter would be better to focus on my cultivation.”
“Got it,” Agent Travis responded, appearing unphased as he continued rustling through boxes.
Ten minutes later, the agent slid another file over. “This should do it. Fruit-picking in the southwestern part of the country meets your requirements. Short-term flats are available in town, and you don’t plant an orchid without solid Qi flow.”
“Why’s that?” Kevin asked, nodding his approval as he glanced over the details. Four hours a day, six days a week. He lacked the economic background to know if the listed pay was decent, but, given the work, he doubted it.
However, he would be able to continue the Sealed Land method while he worked, and any income would be a bonus.
“Spirit Fruit,” the agent responded, heading for the door. “The more Qi around, the better your chances of getting lucky.”
“Right,” Kevin said, grabbing the file and his cultivation method. “Aren’t you going to put those back?” He asked, pointing toward the piles of mixed folders.
Agent Travis turned back to stare at the mess with a satisfied smirk. “Nope. If the DOJ wanted to avoid the cleanup, they should have just given us what we wanted instead of playing games.”
Kevin shook his head as they left; these people. Was competitiveness embedded that deeply in their culture?
The petty slights were committed with such seriousness that he had to guess the answer was yes.
----------------------------------------
“Why are these buildings so spread out?” Kevin asked as they stepped out onto the street. It seemed the DOJ could accept applications, as they’d signed him up for the fruit-picking job before he left.
Then again, they had to provide a beneficial service to the people advertising jobs as well, or they wouldn’t have any to offer. Screening and interviewing applicants must be part of the service.
“You mean the agency headquarters?” Agent Travis asked as he steered them in a new direction.
“Those and any large civilian buildings,” Kevin responded, glancing around at the mixed residential and commercial area they were in. As with the OIM headquarters, the DOJ building was the only one more than five stories tall.
“There are a few reasons,” the agent shrugged, keeping the conversation going without slowing their pace. “The air traffic gets bogged down if you have too many popular destinations in one place.”
“With the agencies, you also don’t want us to close together or you might spark an incident. However, the largest reason is how they centralize cultivators.
“When you have so many in one place, they put a massive drain on the QI in the area. Gaps are needed if you don’t want to overdraw the natural reserves. That’s also why most sects are founded on mountains.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” Kevin nodded. Well, at least two of the answers made sense. He didn’t need to think about the country’s feuding agency dysfunction any further.
“So the sects get mountains, but the capital doesn’t?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It got leveled in a war five hundred years ago,” Agent Travis responded, his tone flat. “We stayed anyway; it isn’t as easy to move a city as it is a sect.”
Kevin stumbled at the unexpected delivery. That was a hell of a war. And was the agent implying that sects sometimes had to move because their mountains got wrecked? Full-on cultivation wars had to be horrific to witness.
Stuck, picturing such a nightmare, he followed Travis until they stopped outside a sheltered set of seats. It reminded him of a bus shelter, though the fifty-foot-wide disk lifting off was new.
“This is where I leave you then,” the agent said, pointing toward the shelter. “The schedule is posted inside; you want to catch a disk to Carlington station, then an overnight hauler to Ostlare.
“You’ll need these,” Agent Travis continued, handing over a wallet and pad of rectangular paper.
The paper looked similar enough to a checkbook that he could figure it out, and each page was already filled out with OIM information. The wallet was stranger; a roll of leather you unfolded sideways, held together by cloth ties.
Unfurling it revealed a leather rectangle covered in coin pouches. Someone had already loaded them with square coins of different sizes and colors; a few pouches were stuffed full while others were almost empty.
“Squares are for small purchases,” the agent continued when he looked up from the wallet. “The checkbook is for larger things, such as accommodation. The local bank branch will also allow you to withdraw squares from a check.”
“And you’re just letting me have this?” Kevin asked, raising an eyebrow. The OIM checkbook had no pre-filled numbers; they’d given him a stack of blank checks.
“It’s a loan, remember,” Travis laughed, shaking his head. “You’ll only get yourself into trouble if you go crazy. Our patience isn’t unlimited, but you’re unlikely to risk pushing your budget until you get into a sect.”
“Got it, spend wisely. Thank you for all of this,” Kevin said, a little sad to see the man leave. He might have only known the Agent for a day, and been at odds with him through part of it, but that was a day more than he’d known anyone else in this world.
In that short time, Travis had also been a massive help. This morning he’d been wondering how to fit in and survive in a foreign land. Now he had money, residency papers, and even a cultivation method.
He wasn’t naïve enough to believe the OIM was doing it out of the goodness of their hearts, nor could he believe their listed reasons covered everything. However, the help they’d provided was worth whatever accounting would come later.
If they kept their word and supported him until he’d found a sect, then there was little he’d balk at having to repay.
“You’re welcome,” Agent Travis responded, fidgeting as he glanced away. “Anyway,” he coughed, changing the subject, “I’ll be by to see how you’re doing in a week. Don’t get in any trouble, but if you do, send me a letter.”
“The OIM’s contact information is on your residency paperwork. Send it there, but address it to me and I’ll get it. For emergencies, the town should have someone capable of sending a direct message, but that will be expensive so avoid it if possible.”
“I’ll be careful,” Kevin said with a firm nod. He wasn’t about to risk the chance in front of him by being silly. “See you later then.”
The agent bid his own farewell and departed, leaving Kevin alone once again.
It was time to begin the next phase of his life.