“What do you need money for, Ark?”
Ark licked his lips, studying his notes closely. He looked up at Sylvia Leen with determination, knowing he was prepared for this question. “Food, clothes, living quarters, in that order.”
The slightest twitch of her mouth was enough to tell him that there was something wrong with his answer. Preparing for the worst, Ark’s mind raced ahead, trying to figure out what it might be.
“Why would you prioritize it like that?” She said, tapping the table before her with a finger.
“It is prioritized according to need. I must eat and drink to survive, then stay warm, and finally have shelter against the elements.”
She smiled ruefully, shaking her head, “You’re talking as if you’re out on a riftrun and have to survive in the wild. Urban life is different, Ark.”
“Is it really?” Ark knitted his brow, “I don’t see why I would need shelter, if I’ve got nothing to eat.”
“What you need to understand, Ark, is that life in the city is a lot more about perception than practicality. For instance, how will you get food? There are no hunting grounds in the city.”
“I… I will work,” he said, lamely.
“Very well. Let’s say you find a place that’s hiring, and you show up with your clothes in tatters. How do think an employer will respond to that?”
“Ah…” Ark was beginning to see what was wrong, “I guess they’ll pick someone else.”
“You’re right. Why?”
“I… I don’t know,” he had to admit, seeing the failure ahead of him. Why had he not thought of this? He had been so sure…
Mercifully, Sylvia did not drag his misery out. “It suggests you are unable to take care of yourself. If you’re unable to take care of yourself, how will you be able to take care of an important job?”
Ark nodded. It made sense, in a twisted sort of way. He thought of the way the instructors were always emphasizing they had their uniforms in perfect order, as well as keeping their room clean. Was that for the same reason?
While he thought, Sylvia continued her lesson, “The best jobs will not even accept you, if you don’t have a residence. And even then, it matters where that residence is—close by, in a good part of town, or a bad one; is it cheap, or is it expensive. All of it says something about who you are, and your value as a worker. Do you see? It’s all about perception.”
Scratching his head in frustration, Ark mumbled, “So it’s reverse? Residence, clothes, then food?”
“In a sense, yes,” Sylvia nodded, matter-of-factly, “Your residence determines where you can look for jobs, and the clothes you wear determines the impression others will have of you. How others perceive you makes all the difference.”
“That’s stupid,” Ark said, scrounging up his face, “Shouldn’t it be more important that I can do the work, rather than I look like I can do it?”
“In a perfect realm, perhaps that would be true,” Sylvia said, then studied him for a long moment. She had her stark, white hair tied up into a bun, while her sharp glasses emphasized her steely eyes. Ark had gotten to learn her better, since she had taken over his education, and he felt more and more comfortable taking liberties of speech and expression in front of her, where every other instructor demanded strict discipline and decorum.
“Consider your status among the other trainees,” she said, after a moment, bringing Ark out of his thoughts.
“The others…?” Ark screwed up his face just thinking about how every other trainee would trounce him in every single practice match or competition. “I’m the weakest, so no one cares,” he said, patiently returning his expression to neutral.
“Maybe you are, or maybe you just think you are,” Sylvia said, standing up and walking around the desk to tower over Ark, with her lab-coat swaying down around her legs.
“There’s no thinking needed. I lose every fight by a mile, and I can’t keep up with the others in speed, strength, or reaction time,” Ark said, his voice bitter. Even though he admitted it as reality, the words still added to the feeling of pressure in his chest; of something building to burst.
“Those aren’t always the most important skills—“
“They are here,” Ark said, daring to cut her off, in frustration. His daring got him a raised eyebrow in return, and he could not help but hang his head in shame.
“I mean it, Ark,” she said, kneeling down before him and raising his head with her index and thumb, “Do you think I’m strong?”
She had shown him her file—which was heavily redacted—and from that alone, Ark knew the woman before him was a powerhouse among riftwalkers. He nodded, not knowing what else to say.
“What if I told you that I know someone I consider stronger, even though I could beat her in a fight or a race, even if I had both my feet and legs tied together? I perceive her to be stronger, do you know why?”
“Is she rich?” Ark said the first thing that came to mind, and, surprisingly, he got a hearty laugh out of Sylvia Leen.
“No, Ark, she’s not rich,” She chuckled, wiping a tear from her eye, “She’s the strongest person I know because she commands people as naturally as I move my limbs, and she bends to absolutely no one. If you want people to respect you, you first need to respect yourself—that is what I have learned from her.”
She put a finger to Ark’s chest, and locked eyes with him, “So don’t you ever tell me you’re weak again, Ark. And don’t let anyone tell you that you are weak either. Got it?”
Straightening his back a little, Ark felt something like confidence in his spine. Maybe he was not so weak. Maybe…
“Now we just need to figure out what you’re actually good at.”
Ark felt his confidence peter out, like a deflating balloon at those words, and for only the second time he heard Sylvia Leen laugh. He decided he liked the sound.
“Don’t be like that—We’ll figure it out. In the meantime, I suppose I should start teaching you together with Mino; I think the two of you will be a good fit.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Another trainee? Ark furrowed his brows. He only knew other trainees by their number, never by name. Did that mean he would no longer be alone with Miss Leen. He was not sure he liked that idea.
Trying to distract himself from the uncertainty, he straightened once again and said, “Miss Leen, that person you say is stronger than you; what’s her name?”
“Her name?” Sylvia looked at him with a curious gaze, but then gave him a warm smile, “She has many, but she goes by Hera to her friends. I think she would like you, Ark, If you ever meet.”
----------------------------------------
Ark and Mino stepped outside Edwar’s Emporium, halting for a moment for reality to set in.
“We’ve actually done it…” Mino said, his voice a hoarse breath in the evening wind.
“We actually did,” Ark agreed, looking into the distance; into the future.
They both took a deep breath. They exhaled. Suddenly, as if by magic, it felt like the weight of the world had lifted. The streets seemed brighter—the people marching up and down looked happier, more content with their struggles than they had just this morning. All of Vanguard appeared before them as a better place, simply because of perception. Where they’d had no future this morning, now the opportunities seemed endless.
What a thing, Ark thought to himself, his stomach leaping with joy and expectation. Sylvia had been right—it was all about perception.
Their stunned silence was broken by the deep and unrelenting rumble of a stomach that had earned nothing but water for its toil all day. Mino looked down his stained shirt, to the source of the sound. Then Ark’s own stomach chorused the complain. Looking at one another, Ark and Mino burst into laughter.
“Even if the world changes, we still gotta eat, huh?” Mino said, chuckling as he rubbed his stomach.
“That’s life, I think” Ark agreed, “At least we don’t have to worry about the money this time around.”
“Yeah, I’m suddenly hungry for a lot more than just bread and water,” Mino grinned and wiped drool from the side of his mouth, “Just think about it, Ark. A buffet… All you can eat… I think I’ll be eating all night.”
Ark could imagine it, but he knew he had to restrain himself. Patting Mino on the arm, he shook his head and said, “We can’t Mino. We’ve got somewhere we need to go first.”
Mino first looked offended, then confused. “What do you mean?”
“Remember this morning? We sent Hera another mouth to feed, and if we don’t get there to stand at attention, we’ll both be a head shorter, come morning.”
“Oh… yeah,” Minos disappointment was clear, but then he brightened up with a smile, “But we just solved that, didn’t we? And if we hurry, we might even make it in time for dinner!”
Ark gave his friend a strained smile. He doubted they would get out of trouble that easy, but he allowed Mino a moment of optimism—it suited him better than his usual focus on their problems. With a nod, he agreed and said, “Alright, let’s hurry, then.”
They took to the street with speed, walking down the main road with confidence, now that they no longer needed to hide their movements. They had credits in their account; a guild membership awaited them on the morrow; indeed they were finally where they should have been two years ago: on the right track.
To Ark’s surprise, their confidence was reflected in the people around them. Their fellow pedestrians parted before them; men and woman who would have utterly ignored them this morning suddenly blinked and moved away—most likely due to Mino’s size. Now that he walked with a straight back, he was far more noticeable, enough to leave bystanders googly-eyed as they passed by.
For once, Ark did not mind the attention; for once, he even felt they had earned to stand out a little. The only part of the experience that soured his mood were the memories of what he had done to get the sudden change of fortune—of what lay down below.
Shuddering, he ignored it. They had earned this. Through the sheer amount of bullshit they had waded through all their lives, he and Mino deserved a lucky break. Now they just had to prove themselves to the guild, and their lives would be set.
The path took them back out to the outskirts of Lowtown, on the opposite side from the dockyard. Here, concrete and steel buildings slowly devolved into rickety structures of a markedly lower quality, until they became mere shelters, held together with twine and duct tape. They passed a final street lamp into the Dusk-district; the lowest of Lowtown.
Even the lamp shoved signs of wear, leaning out over the path, because its foundations had eroded and cracked. It looked like it was the wiring itself that held the lamp up, torn as it was, and clearly a health hazard.
The foot traffic markedly diminished around this place—even lowtowners did not go into this place without good reason, or if they had no other choice. VISOR barely had a presence in Lowtown, and they did not touch the Dusk-district, not unless there was a riot to put down.
This was the realm of gangs, big and small, where the law of the strongest was the general rule, and kindness in short supply. This was where Ark and Mino had ended up two years ago, when their time in the Maze had ended, somewhat abruptly.
“I hate this place,” Mino said quietly as his stance shifted from confident to alert. They both kept a constant eye on their surroundings as they walked forward, noticing every eye that followed them in the dark, even as the path itself became less traveled. There was always someone watching here, no matter what time of the cycle.
Ark just nodded, his eyes slowly scanning dimly-lit side streets. “We won’t be staying long, just relax.” They had slowed down, rather than hurry through—that was the kind of behavior that got you noticed here.
“I’ll relax when this place is cleaned out,” Mino growled while staring down a man in his early twenties, who stood on a ledge above them and played with a knife. Once he realized he was being glared at from a two meter tall giant, his twitching knife came to a halt, before he calmly backed further into the darkness. Shifting his attention forward, Mino continued the thought. “No one deserves to live in a place like this.”
“People have to survive, somehow,” Ark said, shrugging, “This is as good a place as any.”
“No it’s not, Ark,” Mino said, forcefully, “It’s a shithole. You know how many resources are above; if they wanted, they could make all of this better. And yet…” He waved a big hand in the general direction of the Dusk-district, “…This place persists.”
“I just meant that people have to make do with what they got, Mino,” Ark said, “I’m not saying it’s what’s right.”
“Aren’t you?” Mino eyed him out of the corner of his eye, and Ark bit his lip. It was an old argument between them, and he did not want to open it up here. Luckily, they arrived at their destination only moments later, when they turned a corner that led toward an open gate with a crooked sign hanging above it, written in rusty iron: “SCRAPYARD.”
“You wanna knock?” Ark gestured at a post beside the entrance, but Mino shook his head. “Nah, the spotter has seen us already.”
Ark looked into the dark interior, behind the fence, but could not see anything. Mino’s eyes were much better than his in this environment, so he just shrugged and walked confidently forward. They both stopped once they were a few steps inside, waiting.
It did not take long before a shuffle of feet, and the sound of iron scraping against one another alerted them to a small figure off to the side, who carefully approached. A young boy, no older than nine and with his face obscured by the lip of his cap, came forward, hands fidgeting as he studied the interlopers.
“You’re in trouble,” he said, after a short while, looking from Ark to Mino with a mixture of shyness and apprehension. His voice was light, not yet changed by adolescence, but the look in his eyes spoke of someone who had seen the worst of what life held, at a much to young an age.
“We know,” Ark replied, raising his palms to show he was no threat, “Where’s the boss?”
“Where she always is,” the kid said, jerking his head further into the yard, “She’s been waiting for you all day. Says yous got a score to settle.”
Ark and Mino shared a look, then turned back to the boy. “We appreciate the warning. It’s Tim, right?”
The boy nodded solemnly, and Ark smiled in return. “We owe you one, Tim. Let us know if there’s ever anything we can do for you.” The boy gave another nod, eyes lingering on Mino for a moment, then he turned and retreated back to his post.
Both Ark and Mino took a worried breath, looking into the dark depths of the scrapyard. “That’s ominious,” Ark said, trying to keep his tone light. Instead, it cracked.
“I’m starting to think this was a bad idea, Ark,” Mino said, chewing his lip, “Perhaps we should go back?”
“You honestly want to take that chance?” Ark said, eyebrows raised.
“No,” Mino sighed heavily, “No I don’t. Best get it over with, right?. Let’s go.” Squaring his massive shoulders, and yet appearing smaller and smaller, Mino marched forward. Ark followed him, content to let his friend take the first salvo, should it come to that.
It was not cowardice—it was tactics. After all, they were here to see the Scrap Queen of Lowtown, Hera the Iron Ogre; Governess of the Respite Orphanage. In the face of that, it was just a matter of perception.