How much wood could a wood chopping sword mage chop? A whole fucking lot. It was day 45 PGS. Community service had been split up to un-stagger the development of the city, but at least it wasn’t a double-day affair anymore. On the flipside, the common person now had even more demands on their time, what with the militia practice and all. So far we mostly learned the meaning of words, orders and how the chain of command worked.
Our expedition returned just in time for work, it hadn’t been planned – we didn’t actually care about it with regards to scheduling. Figured there couldn’t be too many consequences. It ended up being fun. Mood and morale improved as people slowly processed recent events. The focus this time was purely on housing, so no benefits for me.
I knocked on Mel’s office door and she immediately went for my runescriber after opening it - might’ve taken the petty pen war a bit too far.
“Nah, keep it. I won’t need it for a while. Had something else to talk about.”
Blond eyebrows went up and she waved me in. “Come in then, what’s on your mind?”
Kristen occupied one of the chairs, arms crossed and feet resting on the other chair, although her party was out. She contented herself by employing an old world skillset, insurgency training or some such, hence the forced conscription. The level board, displayed on the wall now, had a single pin at 100.
“Don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Gabriel. Nice to meet you.” I extended a hand in greeting to her seated self. She reciprocated with an iron grip and squeezed, hard.
“Kris. I’ve heard some about you.” Her tone reinforced my earlier suspicions about warring for writing implements.
“All good, I hope.” Her deadpan look said ‘most certainly not’. She bruised my hand too, but it wasn’t enough to make my mask slip. “Before I start, mind if I update?” I pointed at the board. A nod and the only pin at 47 moved to 54. My slight lead on the average active person remained. Mel dug out my sheet and updated it herself. Afterwards, I explained our findings, going light on the details. The night sky shenanigans were dismissed immediately, officially rated as beyond our paygrade.
“…we were already unnerved, the plant explosion was the cherry on top, so we hurried back.”
Mel turned to the marine. “What do you think, Kris?”
She answered immediately, “Good initiative, bad judgment. Sounds interesting though. Might head over for some recon. Local Underway first, then the north.”
Goddamnit.
“Agreed. Thanks for bringing this to us.” Mel turned to me with an annoyed expression, clearly telling me to fuck off now.
I didn’t oblige. “No problem, happy to do my part. Speaking of… I’d like to ask a favor.”
Her veneer of politeness cracked a little. “What is it?”
I did my best to look innocent and scratched the back of my neck. “You see, I lost three magic swords on my way out. They’re not exactly cheap as I’m sure you know.” Kris rewarded my pleading eye contact with a nod and a look.
“Ten-four, I’ll keep an eye out for them.” Must’ve said something while shitfaced, and it made the rounds, since I couldn’t figure out why they were so pissed at me.
Not how I wanted this to go down.
“Thanks, that’ll be all. Don’t want to keep you two from your business.” Mel’s eyes snapped to me, but the rapid readjustment of my schemes left something by the wayside and prevented me from skipping to goodbyes. “By the by, any idea where I can find Ryan?”
“Which one?” At this point her snappiness fueled me.
What was Breathless’ last name anyway? “From research, wanted to ask him some things.”
“They might still be by the lakeside, otherwise you can find him at West 14. Or the pub.”
“Thanks, one more thing, if you don’t mind.” Mel rolled her eyes as I turned towards Kris again. She definitely minded. “Anything special happen at a 100?”
“Yeah. Can’t keep going anymore. Have to hurry up and wait until the end of the month. Shows me a countdown, go-time is on day 60. Then I can participate in what my interface calls ‘the Ascension Games’.”
“Going to?”
“Of course, I’m hoping the rest can catch up in time so we can make a try at going together, might work out.”
“Right. Good luck, in any case.”
It was the easiest to check and the right choice. The pub was busy, and the nerds were gathered around their usual table. I bee-lined for them and caught a snippet of conversation right before arriving.
“Did it work?” Breathless asked.
The dude he talked to was covered in bandages, wincing with every movement and a pair of crutches leaned against the table next to him. “Well… my tests work but the explosion was huge.” Explosion? Interesting, nevertheless…
“Hey Breathless, got a minute?” The rest chuckled.
“Wish you’d stop calling me that. But go ahead.” Keep wishing.
“Just embrace it, it’s affectionate. Anyway, I won’t bother you much. Figured I’d take you up on the standing offer and ask some questions. Quick and dirty answers are fine.” I stressed the last part.
“Sure, I guess. What did you want to know?”
“Best way to get stronger. Figure I got 5 choices but the stat names don’t tell the whole story.”
He switched seats with the uninjured one of the other two nerds so he didn’t have to talk past him. “Right, first things first, are you a single or a double?”
“Double, two-four.”
“With doubles there’s always a focus on one or the other primary.”
“Ah, four in my case.” Another point in favor of crowdsourcing intelligence. Always let others do the heavy lifting. Good for the back.
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“Awesome, you’re actually the first, there’s a few two-four’s but they all ended up as physicals. What can you do?”
“…and woosh. I like to think of myself as an anti-tank rifle of sorts. Keeps doing damage while embedded too. I’ve only come across something capable of surviving it once.”
“Hmm, that makes sense. I could explain how we think some of it works but you’d have to learn the Cant first.”
“The Cant?”
Glasses, the whole nerd, chimed in, smug grin decorating his face. “The first tenet of the sixth pillar, when you fill a cup with water, it takes the cups’ shape. It may look like the water adapts, but it’s always exerting pressure on the cup.”
“Yeah, I can’t.” I shook my head for emphasis and they silently appreciated my pun. “I’ll settle for some practical advice.”
“First of all, the big thing with doubles is that you need a little bit of everything. It’s probably why they’re called what they are. What you need the most of, you already get from leveling up. You shouldn’t ignore the other two in your case though. I can’t give you exact numbers, but your kit won’t be fully online until you make some progress in those. Then, equipment and finally consumables are the most important, in that order for the long term. Reverse it for the short term. And practice of course, we tend to think with old physics in mind, but if it seems like a decent idea, it’s probably worth trying out.”
“Thanks, you really helped me out.” My words interrupted his pre-rant intake of air, in time for once. Vik and company were too drunk to follow, having started early. A short hike brought me home, a new sword joined my stockpile and a nap refreshed me. Stats and their effects could be willed off selectively and messing with PE allowed for perfect control of one’s circadian rhythm. Good news for insomniacs everywhere. Night had arrived but the government never slept. The expanded office hours worked out for me, had a final skill to pick up. Choices, choices…
Most of the ‘physical’ crafts were fairly identifiable, mundane things like woodcarving, leatherworking, smithing, and etcetera. Magical ones were unintuitive, enchanting was a good example. We didn’t have an extensive list detailing them all either. Leading theories speculated there were a veritable shitton of possibilities and some had even been discovered. Tool availability remained as the major problem however. The nerds hadn’t yet cracked the code on what made some of the more special ones work, such as the portable forge or even my pen. The more adventurous folks had used keywords from video games or fantasy stories and whatnot when selecting care packages, hence how we ended up with our current repertoire.
There was another option, could relink my skills and open up a physical slot. Unfortunately this would reset any progress for reasons suspected but ultimately unknown. I was a sucker for opportunity cost, so that wasn’t happening. My relationship with Mel was strained enough and self-preservation prompted me to smoke outside. Staring at a spiral column of smoke led me to a conclusion. My pick didn’t really matter. I didn’t need a life path, only a booster. Now if Barry wasn’t permanently attached to his mortar and pestle, then all my problems would be solved…
He was still at home, hard at work creating some kind of chemical apparatus. Certainly booze related, although by the looks of it he might’ve been preparing to start cracking oil – if we had any. He sidetracked me with a taster, it suited my purposes anyway.
“Had a chat with the nerds last night and learned some interesting things…” Barry was a hybrid too and increasingly enamored with his powers.
He almost ran to the center of government, after giving me permission to use his tools – as long as I didn’t sell my product and kept it for personal use only. He’d be taking a break from alchemy until we returned from our second run at the Farm. Power was intoxicating, the pursuit of it had nearly become an unspoken right, which meshed with what the folks at the top wanted too. I linked alchemy to magical speed.
But I couldn’t get started right away. The metal shortage had peaked once more and only the return of the next farming wave could alleviate it, and my spoils of course. Ten bonemetal plates remained in my storage crate, destined to add bulk to my shieldsword. That left 20 for the open market and 17 saved for Jeb. He might be interested in forging some armor, possibly extracting some extra value for both of us. Commissioning more equipment didn’t enter the consideration, there was some fishy shit going on and adding more gear to my outfit left me feeling bloated and stiff.
Auctioning the remaining 20 plates would’ve been ideal, but someone else had beaten me to it and Mel immediately put the kibosh on said flavor of gouging like she’d been waiting for the opportunity, it inflated prices too much. Then again, those who made the rules could unmake them, leaving me with a card to play. It was time for another visit to Breathless. He redirected me at Glasses, no idea why he still wore the things. Small talk revealed two were out on a revenue run while the wounded fellow spent most of the day sleeping, apparently.
“So check these out.” Glasses bent over the table as if the plate in front of him held some deep secret, eyeing it closely. “Interface described them as ‘bonemetal’, which made me wonder, what’s the difference between regular old metal and that of the boney variety? I’m not going to figure it out, but you might.”
“Interesting. I have some ideas. Will run some tests, come back in an hour or two.”
Glasses struck me as the excitable sort, the type to prioritize curiosity over efficiency. My experiences of working with people like him in ye olden times suggested his estimate of a few hours would prove a wild understatement. Hence, my return had been preceded by an exercise routine, some drinks and a couple of hours spent dicking about.
“Any news?”
“Absolutely, it wasn’t hard to figure out,” he beamed.
I somehow doubted it, one of the plates was covered in all sorts of scratches and substances. “And, what’s the verdict?”
“Simple, the distinction matters for tool affinity. Take enchanting for example, if you want to carve metal you need to use a file, because a knife won’t work. This used to make sense, but if you modify a metal for softness and use a tier one knife modified for hardness, you’d expect it to work. It does if you’re not trying to use the skill, but try to enchant a block of metal with a knife and you’re out of luck. We haven’t been able to pin down any hard rules, but for these at least it seems most of what would apply to organic materials like wood and leather also work alongside tools for metal. That includes using multiple skills to strengthen it. I’ve labeled it a tier one-point-five material.”
Fantastic news. “Man, you guys are heroes. Thanks ever so much.”
“You’re welcome, maybe we could have one of these for further testing?”
Jeb’s allotment went down to 16. “Sure, have at it.” I left them the messed up plate and had a victory smoke.
Inquiries made while waiting paid off and led me to an Indonesian dude called Rhasmat, the architect of Kristen’s beastly weapon. Our peoples had a long history, hopefully he wouldn’t it hold against me.
I kissed some ass and then gave him a heads up, citing ‘making sure they go where they’re needed’ as my reason and he agreed to make a timely appearance. It was pretty straightforward, all in all. The establishments’ draconian rules disincentivized entrepreneurial ventures. Did we want our best and brightest to wear the state of the art, or whatever proved convenient? Surely, someone of Rhasmat’s skill understood the value of superior materials, did he not? And let’s not forget the metal shortage, how will it ever get solved like this? We knew too little about this world, too little to set things in stone already, didn’t we?
Fortunately for me, Rhasmat was a trusting fellow, incapable of piercing through thinly veiled layers of bullshit.
Lots of bitching happened afterwards.
A quick check confirmed Mel and Kris were present, together in the mayor’s office. Jen’s temp replacement refused to budge, policy was policy and the price of metal was the price of metal. A raising of my voice and a loud proclamation of ‘bullshit’, successfully summoned leadership. Mel immediately took the clerks side and nearly ignited the petty pen wars as a result. The whole point of fixed prices was to avoid shit like this, bla bla. I acknowledged hers, then repeated my talking points, adding more as they came to mind, any lapse in creativity filled with citations of Glasses’ results. Then Rhasmat showed up and joined the squabble, obviously uncomfortable arguing against Mel.
Unexpectedly, Kris played kingmaker and settled the debate. She wanted new toys and approved of the cost-benefit ratio. Mel’s eyes darted to her and then she gave in to my relentless bitching, the plates were priced at 50c – otherwise I’d walk.
During my second victory smoke of the day, I examined the next step in energy condensation – it was about the size of a two-euro coin, made out of crystal and worth a thousand energy. Finally rich, if not famous - infamous perhaps.
Rhasmat gave me a nasty look on the way out. He’d gone quiet after Mel pointed out my true goal, bumping the price. Yet he’d already said his piece and was too timid to work out a way of running it back. A stroke of good luck. For a moment, especially when Kris opened her mouth, I was worried my only spoils would be a beating for civil disobedience. But sometimes, balancing on the knife’s edge worked out just fine.
My crystal coin glittered in the sun.