He started pacing left and right, hands still held behind his back, arms rippling with muscle.
“Some of you are not new to the Undercity, to Havenspire itself. Indeed, some have endured great hardship to be here this day. But, for the benefit of those doe-eyed, newborn souls who have only recently awoken within the great game, listen closely and take these words to heart.”
He stopped dead, spinning around and snapping his fingers sharply, and a string of symbols and numbers popped into existence above his right shoulder. Similar to those of the twin Blade Dancers in the blood pits, the list seemed to reflect basic characteristic stats, skills, and feats the huge man had acquired. But instead of a sword at the top of the attributes, a clenched fist stood proudly, its outermost edges shimmering with golden light. Beneath that stood a golden shield with the number forty at its center. A series of high numbers and skill symbols were outlined below.
Rank: 40
Titles: Assembly Paragon, Master Tacticus Brawler's Guild, Sargeant Havenspire First Order, Obsidian Wall Breacher, Bare Fist Brawler Champion
House: deBorst
Class: Barbarian
Guild: Brawler’s Guild
Position: Master Tacticus
Constitution: 500
Strength: 600
Stamina: 500
Agility: 270
Intelligence: 50
Overcharge: 15
Feats: 38
Contracts: 430
Dungeons: 2
There were other details listed at the base of the display, but those items were truncated and the unnamed couldn’t make anything out clearly. Judging by the gasps he heard from the other initiates, he guessed that Kalric’s stats were just as impressive as his physique. It was still difficult to gauge given that the unnamed had no real understanding of how ranks and abilities worked here in Havenspire. Kalric’s rank was significantly higher than the Blade Dancers, though. By contrast, a quick glance at his tattoo confirmed that the unnamed still possessed a custodian rank of zero. He wondered just how little effort the Master Tacticus would need to expend to break his neck.
Barely an inconvenience, the unnamed thought, the phrase drifting into his consciousness from some long past memory.
Kalric continued.
“The rank you see before you and these accompanying titles and accomplishments I have earned through the sweat of my brow, the blood in my veins, and the resolve of my mind. I have devoted myself to service, both in war and in the execution of my guild duties, climbing from the position of initiate to journeyman, to veteran, and finally master as you see me now. And with the rank I have obtained, I am elevated beyond the common rabble and granted access to all but the highest tier of Havenspire.”
He smiled, looking up as though he was staring at a stairway leading to the heavens themselves. Several of the initiates turned to look in the same direction he was facing, so infectious was the conviction on Kalric’s face. They turned back as the burly master continued.
“By rights, my rank permits entry to the Blue and even Indigo levels of the Havenspire. Yet I do not dwell in the upper echelons of the great tower; I live here in the Undercity, surrounded by those with no rank, no status. I ply my craft here among the downtrodden and disheveled, among those poor souls who struggle and strive yet seem unable to gain rank and progress in their lives beneath the shadow of the great Spire.”
He looked at the initiates, no longer captivated by some imagined lofty sight in the distance.
“And why? Why do I ply my craft here among the dregs rather than live a life of leisure? Why am I not off in the Shadowlands fighting against the great enemy and earning honor and prestige?”
The master stood silent for a few moments, waiting to see if anyone among the gathered initiates would be foolish enough to answer the question. Once a little time had passed, he smiled, nodding to himself.
“Because life in the Brawler’s Guild means service. And this is how I can best serve. Because the guild gave me all that I have, and any further glory I could achieve on the battlefield would pale in comparison to the service I can offer here within these sacred halls. Any leisure I could enjoy in the echelons above would taste bitter on my tongue and thus be rendered worthless.”
He looked from one to the other, his hard gaze lingering on each face.
“Learn this lesson first and foremost, my little lambs. To join this guild means more than a chance at elevation through gaining rank. It means a life of service and purpose, where one’s toil has meaning and, thus, far more worth than vacuous titles and the affectations of rank and privilege.”
He clicked his fingers once more and the display hovering above him vanished. Kalric smiled, looking out above their heads.
“Honor through service. That is the mantra of the Brawler’s Guild and the code by which we live. We do not seek honor for its own sake, nor work toward our own elevation simply so that we may one day enjoy a life of leisure. Honor through service. It is our credo, the very foundation of this august institution. Our northern star, if you will.”
The big man rocked back and forth on his heels, smiling at the gathered initiates as the weight of his words hit home.
Once more the unnamed caught sight of the young Elven woman he had noticed earlier. She had turned aside to look at one of the other initiates before turning back to the master once more. She was the first female elf he’d seen up close since arriving in Havenspire. Achingly beautiful, with short blond hair, delicate features, and sharp blue eyes. She also wore two knives sheathed on her belt, one on either side and tilted at an angle, as though they would be easy to draw if the need presented itself.
That brief glimpse of her profile set the unnamed’s mind to wandering. He found himself wondering if, like Naleth, she’d been a former NPC, caught up in a rebellion against the ruler of this strange world. More likely she was human, and her body has been changed as part of the transition to the great game.
He spied at least one dwarven figure among the group, as well as the half-orc standing next to the elf woman. Given Naleth’s story, it was unlikely they were all ex-NPCs.
Catching sight of a horned figure standing toward the front of the group, the unnamed chastised himself. Of course, they were human. This is exactly what his brother did whenever he played these kinds of fantasy RPG style games. He’d pick a dwarf or an elf, an orc or goblin. Anything but human. The unnamed, by contrast, tended to play male humans whenever he was forced into playing with his brother. He never saw the point of pretending to be anything other than human, no matter how much his brother tried to explain it to him.
Seeing the variety of non-humans standing nearby, all overly beautiful or powerful representations of their species, the unnamed began to understand. This was all part of it. The fun of these kinds of games was stepping outside reality and pretending to be something that you weren’t. It made sense that people being uploaded into the Havenspire simulator would do the same.
Perhaps it wasn’t permanent either? Maybe these were just skin upgrades that had been purchased prior to entering Havenspire? With enough money, it was probably possible to change from a goblin to a dragonborn or shift from human to elf.
With enough money.
The unnamed hadn’t been given that option himself, even though the Company representative had mentioned the possibility several times, the option wasn’t open to those who chose the lowest transition plan. He could have entered Havenspire as one of a dozen different races, but that would have cost money, of course, money that they didn’t have.
Despite their meager funds, his parents had inquired as to the cost of making some minor physiological enhancements to the shell he would inhabit in the game. All but the most basic transition plans had been beyond their means, and though REDACTED had been on the verge of death, he had clearly read the stress and worry on his mother’s face as they discussed the limited funds available to execute the transition.
In the end, he had put her mind at ease, insisting that he only wanted to be human and that he was happy with whatever he was given. He’d tapped his legs and insisted that just being able to stand without crutches would be amazing. Being able to breathe without wheezing and stand for more than a few seconds without keeling over meant more to REDACTED than what kind of skin he inhabited.
Besides, his extensive experience with first-person shooters and the library of fantasy and sci-fi books he’d read told the unnamed that it didn’t matter how you started. Everyone began as a noob. The real test was what you did with what you were given and how quickly you could gain new skills and use them to your advantage.
He winced a little as he remembered his mother’s face in those final moments as she pressed her hand against the glass, watching his upload from the viewing room. That had only been a day or so ago, but it felt like weeks had already passed. He wished he could talk to his mother again, but that was out of the question. The company had strict rules about communication between people within the simulated world and outside of it.
They insisted that distance was necessary to maintain the integrity and veracity of the simulation. They insisted that pulling people out of their new world periodically to speak with real-world relatives would do lasting psychological damage. Worse, the instability that damage caused could easily spread through the delicate microcosm of the great game, impinging on other people’s rights to both privacy and a life free of such unnecessary turmoil.
It had seemed such a reasonable and persuasive argument when he’d signed the agreement. His parents had nodded when the matter had been reiterated. They were already all too familiar with the prohibition against communication, given that they hadn’t spoken with their youngest son since REDACTED was uploaded years ago.
Integrity. What a joke.
If people outside knew what really went on in here, there would be riots. They’d demand that the Company be shut down, that their loved ones be retrieved. It would be chaos.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Let me be clear,” Kalric said, snapping the unnamed out of his reverie as he continued his speech. “While you reside within these walls, there will be three means by which you may achieve some modicum of elevation and, in time, gain rank. Service, martial prowess, and the fulfillment of guild contracts. With these three means you can prove yourself worthy and progress.”
Kalric held up a single finger.
“The first of these is service. Cooking, cleaning, maintaining the building and its outlying grounds, and serving the Undercity in whatever way the guild deems beneficial. When you are not training or fulfilling contracts, you will be cleaning, sweeping, polishing, dusting, painting, repairing, sewing, and fulfilling all manner of service activities. Most of these will be done in and around the guildhall, but some you will provide to our neighbors and those less fortunate souls throughout the Undercity. If you are lucky, you may also find time to eat and sleep.”
That drew a few nervous chuckles from the group, and Kalric nodded his approval, his lips curling into a curt smile. He held up two fingers as he continued.
“Martial prowess. You will learn to fight with bare fists and stave, with sword and cudgel, spear and dagger, against single foes and when outnumbered by enemies. You will learn to strike first and to strike with vigor. You will grow to depend on one another and learn to rely on your guild brethren in all things. But you will also be driven to excel in your own right. You will learn what it is to endure pain and prevail even though circumstances are stacked against you.”
He let that sink in for a few moments, turning to sweep his gaze across the gathered initiates before raising three fingers.
“Contracts. Those who choose to hire our services record their requirements in the guild codex where each guild member from initiate to master may see them and members may submit their request to fulfill that contract. During your initiation, if you should successfully complete the Rat Run and conclude your introductory training, you will each be given the opportunity to fulfill low-level contracts and thus gain experience, credits, and eventually rank.”
Kalric smiled once more, but this time there was little warmth in the expression.
“Beware though, little fawns, for not every request will be granted and not every contract will end in victory. The first lesson you will learn here at the Brawler’s Guild is to dispense with undue pride. Havenspire plays tricks on us all, younglings. When you first arrive in the great city you feel strong and fast, as though you are impervious to defeat.”
He chuckled.
“But you will quickly learn that Havenspire is a rigid society structured around rank and the abilities that rank reflects. If you are lucky enough to rise to rank five and attempt to fulfil a contract which requires you to slay a beast which is rank six. Do not think it an easy task. That beast will likely slaughter you. No matter how high you climb, there is always a stronger foe waiting for you. It is imperative that you develop wisdom in how you approach each contract, each fight, and each opportunity.”
He looked up at Naleth, pointing at the towering troll.
“Some of you possess natural advantages over others. You are larger, stronger, or more resilient and therefore that much more likely to survive the years you will spend in service to the guild.”
The unnamed sensed it before it happened, a tightening in his gut and a tingling sensation up his spine. Then the master pointed a finger directly at him.
“Others of you are scrawny and ill-suited to combat. You will struggle to advance because you lack either drive or capacity, or both. You are here because, for some reason, your patron has insisted upon it. A young pup who has done nothing to prove itself and shown no sign whatsoever of earning a place here at the Brawler’s Guild, yet who finds himself standing here among the deserving.”
The initiates stared straight ahead, all trying to look at the unnamed from out of the corner of their eyes, all doubtlessly pleased that they weren’t the ones being singled out as an example of weakness.
“Thirty-two initiates stand before me,” Kalric went on, starting to pace back and forth again. “Of that number, I expect only five or six to reach the status of journeyman. Of those, one or two may survive and in time rise to the status of veteran. Those few may gain rank and serve the guild in a substantial manner.”
He threw his hand toward them like casting seed out onto a field.
“Some of you will fail to prove yourselves worthy of remaining here in the guild. You will be expelled and returned to whatever life you knew before you came to this place, or you will be permitted entry into the armed forces where what little strength you possess will be spent in defense of the realm. There is still rank to be gained if you fight diligently and do your duty there.”
He paused for a moment before continuing.
“Others of you will take on contracts far above your capacities in the hope of ensuring rapid advancement. You will die to a blade in the dark, or the ravenous maw of the Darkling Host and their wretched kin. You will fall victim to a dungeon snare, or the agonizing sting of the death ant.”
He shook his head.
“I do not say this to be provocative or to dissuade you from giving your all to the guild and your service. I say it simply to be plain, to offer you the unvarnished truth and the reality of what lies ahead for you all. Despite these dangers, I urge you to give everything that you have. Learn, endure hardship, accept guidance, and do not let pride or impatience drive you toward an early grave. Remember, little ones, Havenspire is a harsh mistress, and there are a great many dangers hiding within this city. You must do all that you can to survive. Hone your skills, gain knowledge, expand your character and make of yourself someone worthy of greater rank. That is the surest way to victory. Honor through service, that is the path you must follow.”
He held up three fingers again.
“Service, martial prowess, and the diligent fulfillment of guild contracts. These are your means of gaining knowledge, developing key skills and, ultimately, increasing rank, my little pets. But before you can hope to achieve anything of worth, you must first earn your names.”
That brought a series of murmurs from the group. Kalric seemed to enjoy the unsettled whispers, grinning widely.
“I care not if you already possess a name. For that which is given is rarely appreciated for its true worth. The Brawler’s Guild deals only in qualities, skills, and honors that have been earned through sweat, blood, and diligence.”
Kalric nodded to himself.
“Those of you who have dwelled in Havenspire for a time will know that, to each citizen there is given the capacity for two names. The first name is bestowed by the Sigil and, by extension, the Didact. It is typically a random designation and of little worth in and of itself.”
He tapped a hand on his bare chest.
“I was not born Kalric. The name was bestowed upon me when I first arrived in Havenspire many years ago. It means nothing to me, other than serving as a designation by which others might identify me, particularly in those early years.”
The brawny man shook his head, smiling to himself as though remembering his earlier years.
“Kalric. Such an odd name. It took some time before I became comfortable with it, but I did not let that dissuade me from pursuing a true name, a house name. This is the second and most important of names. Not everyone who enters the Spire is granted the privilege of acquiring a house name. It is not bestowed by the sigil or the Didact but must be earned through acts of bravery and heroism, through diligence and service. Yes, it is possible to seek the name of a given house, to channel your efforts toward that enterprise, but there is no guarantee that a house itself will grant your request.”
He meshed the fingers of his left and right hands together in front of him.
“There must be a coming together of house and individual. Your purposes must be aligned, and you must, to some extent, give yourself to the goals and desires of your house. This will take time, and a great deal of effort. It is possible to gain rank, of course, without the name of a High House, but you will find that gathering knowledge and new skills, climbing the Spire itself, is much easier once you have acquired a name and have the backing of your house.”
The Master Tacticus’s eyes shifted, narrowing slightly as he locked onto the unnamed. The unnamed felt a chill crawl up his spine as Kalric spoke.
“For those of you who are new to the Spire and have yet to be assigned even a first name, you will be gifted a sigil if you successfully complete the Rat Run and, at that time, a first name will be bestowed upon you. Again, the name will be chosen at random, at the behest of the Didact.”
The heavy half-orc in front of the unnamed raised a hand, and Kalric nodded in his direction.
“How do we earn a house name?” the half-orc asked.
By way of answer, Kalric turned to one side and whistled sharply. In response a figure walked out from the shadows of one of the nearby wings of the building. He was tall and lean, with short hair and a tight shirt rather than the loose clothes the initiates wore. He walked with confidence, bowing in front of the master before turning to face the initiates.
Kalric slapped the young man lightly on the shoulder. A copper symbol of a clenched fist appeared over the young man’s shoulder, floating with a number three at its heart. Kalric motioned to the shield.
“Work hard, do service to the guild, fulfil contracts, and each of you may get your chance to gain a name for yourself. But a name does not come without risk, nor is it bestowed without a noteworthy house to offer it and an act of valor which sets you apart from others who seek a name for themselves.”
Kalric nodded and the young man tapped the sigil tattoo on his left forearm. A list of statistics dropped down from beneath the clenched fist, expanding so that the gathered initiates could clearly see it. Kalric motioned to the list, taking a moment to allow the initiates to examine it.
** TRIFOLD TALLY **
Name: Hallock Jane
Rank: 3
Titles: NA
House: Hallock
Class: Fighter
Guild: Brawler’s
Position: Journeyman
Constitution: 2
Strength: 2
Stamina: 2
Agility: 2
Intelligence: 1
Overcharge: NA
Feats: 0
Contracts: 28
Dungeons: 1
“What you see before you, little ones, is the trifold tally, a precise record of your standing here within Havenspire and the various accomplishments you have achieved during your time here.”
He motioned to the topmost section.
“Young Jane here is rank three. That means that he has gained access to the black and gray tiers. He can travel to these regions of the Spire, seek out contracts, purchase goods, and engage with the locals without fear of recompence. As the tally suggests, he has chosen the fighter class and has gained a name for himself, as each of you will need to do.”
The Master Tacticus pointed to the next block of statistics.
“Physical and mental attributes are judged by the sigil and assigned a numeric value. With each rank that you gain, a skill bonus is applied to your base abilities. This will be distributed according to the skills you use most often and favor in your given fighting style and the various talents you have developed through training and the experiences you gain from fulfilling contracts and the like.”
A thin figure at the front of the group raised a hand. Kalric turned to the young man, frowning heavily.
“Yes, lad?”
“The numbers listed in the second block,” the figure asked. “Do they represent a tangible change in each person, or does your constitution actually increase when you go up in rank?”
Kalric pointed a finger at the young man. “Excellent question, initiate. In truth, it is a little of both. You will grow stronger and more skilled the harder you work, and the sigil will recognize that work and assign points that reflect your improved status. However…”
He looked from one to the other, emphasizing the point.
“There is a strange symbiosis at work between the sigil, the individual, and Havenspire itself. The Didact, in its infinite wisdom, has built this reality in such a manner that it is possible to advance in skill, physical prowess, and mental discipline without end. There may have been limits in your old life, but here, in Havenspire, the only limits you face will be those you place upon yourself. Yes, there are a great many dangers and obstacles to face in Havenspire, and there are those that will seek to pull you down, to steal from you, do violence for no reason other than the hope of their own personal gain. The natural proclivities and drives of humanity are greatly accelerated her at the Spire, and you will each need to contend with your fair share of opposition. Still, if you are successful in completing the Rat Run and prove yourself worthy of permanent membership here at the Brawler’s Guild, we will do all we can to aid you in your journey.”
Other hands were raised, but he ignored them, turning away from the group, motioning to the third block of information.
“Lastly, the great deeds you undertake will be listed, along with any awards you have and dungeons you have cleared. This final section of the trifold tally will expand as required, detailing every exploit of note.”
He turned to face the group once more.
“But be aware that mundane deeds will not appear in this ledger, little lambs. This space is reserved for feats of excellence, acts of uncommon valor and heroism.”
He tapped once more at the young man’s sigil, and the display rolled up beneath the bronze fist symbol.
“Journeyman Hallock,” he said, “what is your full name?”
The other man straightened as he spoke, his words clear and confident. “Hallock Jane of House Hallock, Master Tacticus.”
Kalric nodded. “Just so. Hallock Jane, of House Hallock. And what task did you perform to prove yourself to your house and gain your name, Hallock Jane?”
“I fought ten house guards in single combat and was victorious. I climbed the Sallow Tower and endured the sting of a suckling wyvern in order to acquire the house seal. I returned to the mistress of the house and delivered that seal to her table.”
Kalric nodded, motioning for the young man to leave. Jane bowed and then exited the way he had come. The master turned back to the group.
“Some houses run annual contests, such as the one young Hallock competed in. Others offer difficult contracts in exchange for named places in their houses rather than credits or other rewards. The Havenspire military is known to issue names on occasion when feats of extraordinary bravery are witnessed on the battlefield, though such occurrences have been rare in recent times. These are the most common paths to gaining one’s name.”
He shook his head.
“They are not easy and typically entail a great deal of danger. But if you want to advance and gain rank, a house name is an important requirement you should aspire to.”
The big man clapped his hands sharply.
“Now,” he boomed, “as this is your first night with us here at the guild hall, you shall eat without need of payment. This singular meal will cost you no service or hardship, and you will be given lodgings for the night in addition to other amenities.”
He smiled.
“Enjoy, my little lambs. For on the morrow, your service begins, and the Rat Run awaits.”