Hell, it turned out, consisted primarily of seemingly endless hours spent scrubbing, cleaning, polishing, mending, and serving the needs of guild members in every conceivable way. Not only were the initiates required to work diligently throughout the day, but there was a specific method and approach required for every single job.
Pots and pans had to be cleaned by means of a strict three-part process which involved clearing away food remains first, then soaping and scrubbing, followed by rinsing and drying. To his credit, Leo demonstrated each part of the process himself before asking for volunteers, explaining that he, like all other guild members, had spent a great deal of time scrubbing pots over the years, along with a host of other cleaning duties.
“Who would like to go first?” Leo asked, stepping away from the trio of basins and drying his hands.
The unnamed felt his arm rise into the air, seemingly of its own accord. He frowned, turning to see Tusk crouching down behind him and holding the unnamed’s arm up by the sleeve.
“Great. You’ll do nicely,” Leo said, pointing to the unnamed. “I’ll need another volunteer as well.”
Scowling, the unnamed stepped forward, while Tusk sniggered behind him. A moment later the half-orc cried out, drawing Leo’s attention as the veteran’s eyes focused and he called Tusk forward.
“Excellent, step forward and you can both show us how it’s done. Remember, the priority is cleanliness and adherence to technique. This isn’t a race. Get the process correct first and then you can work on speed later on.”
Tusk stepped forward, turning around, eyes narrowed as he stared back at Vella. She was grinning, miming pinching fingers.
The half-orc stepped up next to the unnamed, watching as the other man began doing as Leo had shown them. The veteran watched with interest, making suggestions and guiding the unnamed’s hands now and then as he cleaned a large wide pan moving from basin to basin and attempting to follow the required techniques and procedures.
It was an odd sensation, doing something so mundane as washing dishes in a place like this, deep within a fantasy afterlife simulator and in the heart of a city guild. Despite that fact, the unnamed began to get into a rhythm, enjoying the warmth of the water and focusing his attention on each aspect of the process.
“You’re a natural,” Leo said, patting him on the shoulder.
“Of course he is,” Tusk grunted, frowning nearby as he pointed toward the tattoo on the unnamed’s wrist. “He’s got special skills.”
The unnamed felt his cheeks redden as Leo bent down and inspected the custodian tattoo on his wrist. The veteran smiled and nodded.
“Interesting,” he said, stepping back and addressing the group. “Very interesting. There’s a lesson here folks, so listen up.”
He pointed to the unnamed. “Our friend here entered Havenspire as a custodian. For those who aren’t familiar with that term or the status it represents, in Havenspire custodians are essentially low to mid-level cleaners. They typically work on the lower three levels of the Spire, doing jobs that are beneath the servant automatons that operate in the higher echelons of the city.”
The unnamed felt his body slump as though the shame he felt was a physical weight pressing down against his shoulders.
“If my understanding is correct, it is the lowest level someone can be when they enter Havenspire. No rank. No citizenship. It is possible, I believe, to gain levels of some kind as a custodian, but those levels only relate to the profession itself. They aren’t much good outside of that.”
He walked up beside the unnamed, putting a hand around his shoulders.
“I say all of this not to shame our friend here, but to impress upon you one very important point.” He motioned toward the door which led through a corridor and out into the main hall. “Our Master Tacticus, Kalric came to Havenspire as a custodian many years ago, just like this young man.”
He let those words settle in as some of the initiates began muttering amongst themselves.
“Yes. The Master Tacticus of the Brawler’s Guild. A man that had accomplished feats you can’t even imagine. A war hero, house Baron, head of this guild. He has ascended to the height of a Paragon status within the Assembly itself and commands the respect of every soul within Havenspire. He is a champion of too many contests to list and the very image of success here at the Brawler’s Guild.”
Leo turned to the unnamed.
“And he began his time here at Havenspire as a humble custodian, just like this fellow. Remember that initiates. Remember that it is not how you begin that matters, but what you make of yourself. The Spire is an unforgiving mistress, and life here can be grueling. In the days ahead you will face a great many obstacles, you will be stretched to your limit, forced to content with your inner failings and driven to the point of failure again and again.”
He stepped forward, still smiling as he looked around at the initiates.
“Honor through service,” he said with an air of finality, as though those words encapsulated everything he was attempting to convey.
“Now,” he said, spinning around and motioning toward Tusk. “Let’s see how the half-orc fares.”
It turned out that the half-orc fared badly. Bulging muscles, thick skin, and large hands might have given him an advantage in battle, but it turned out that they didn’t help at all when it came to scrubbing pots.
“Flapjacking egging bacon buns!” the half-orc spat, as piping hot water sloshed up and bit him in the eye.
He turned around to the unnamed who was having trouble containing a smirk as he watched the bruiser struggle with his cleaning duties.
“How the hash did you do this so easily?” Tusk asked.
The unnamed pulled back his sleeve, revealing the custodian tattoo and tapping it with his free hand.
“Like you said, dude. I got skills.”
He tapped on one of the explainer icons next to the class descriptor, bringing up a summary large enough for Tusk to read.
** CUSTODIAN CLASS **
Custodians are the lifeblood of Havenspire. Servicing primarily the Gray and Emerald Tiers, Custodians handle a range of cleaning and maintenance duties which are deemed too menial for the automated servants which operate at higher tiers.
Custodians possess a range of skills and abilities targeted toward the custodial arts. Spells can also be increased and augmented with experience.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The half-orc laughed at that, an infectious laughter that quickly spread throughout the group. Leo stepped forward, taking the pot from Tusk and shooing him away from the basins.
“Alright, let’s have the next candidate. I want to see each of you give this a go and we’ll need to pick up the pace, because there’s a lot more to cover.”
After the pots came polishing the various bronze and silver components of the guildhall, washing clothes and linen, chopping firewood, and a dozen other duties. The day ended with the initiates getting a lesson in the correct way to sweep the floor. By the time they reached this point, the unnamed’s muscles were aching and his mind was beginning to wander. He forced himself to focus, noting that the promise of food meant that the day’s activities would soon be at an end.
He had held his own and done better than most at the bulk of the activities, building on a running joke with the initiates and prompting Tusk to bestow the title of Captain Custodian to the unnamed as they went from job to job. Where he’d felt intense embarrassment at his status being pointed out early on, Tusk had actually done him a favor by highlighting the tattoo.
The comparison with Kalric now lent the unnamed a certain mystique, and the humorous interchanges between him and Tusk had helped the larger group of initiates to bond with one another, lessening the uncertainty and strangeness they were all feeling.
Despite the relatively light workload, the day had been grueling and most of the initiates were barely able to lift their forks to eat the night’s meal. There was so much to remember, so many rules and techniques to master, and they hadn’t even begun learning to fight yet. At one point, an initiate had asked Leo whether it was possible to increase their standing with the guild by doing chores. The veteran laughed in response, stating that, while there were a great many valuable lessons to learn from cooking, cleaning, and mending, very little of that work would add to an initiate’s standing nor lead directly toward rank.
The unnamed had sensed the disappointment in the group as they learned that all that they had endured was simply part of the price of attending the guild. Worse, they’d be doing long hours of similar work for the next two days and then for at least a few hours each day from then onwards. The unnamed found himself wondering how there could possibly be enough work for all those initiates to do each day, but he stopped short of asking the question.
They sat down that night to eat a filling meal of roasted meats, vegetables, freshly baked bread, and a selection of fruits and nuts. The food was delicious, but the initiates ate in silence for the most part, too tired from the day’s activities to bother with conversation. All except Tusk, of course.
He sat next to Vella, opposite the unnamed and Naleth. The big troll had spent the day tending to his own chores, but they were of a completely different kind to the others. From what the unnamed was able to gather from Naleth’s clipped speech, the hulking brute had spent the day chopping wood and carting heavy stones from place to place, assisting with the expansion of one of the large chambers at the rear of the main guild hall.
“I just don’t get it,” Tusk complained, staring at a chunk of roast potato held aloft by his fork. “We’re supposed to be training, learning how to fight and running contracts. They could get automatons to do all this cleaning junk.”
Vella shook her head. “I think the point is that we’re supposed to learn about humility. It’s about serving our fellow guild members. Honor through service, remember?”
The half-orc rolled his eyes, and the unnamed found himself wondering at the nature of their relationship. They obviously knew each other prior to coming to the guild, and they seemed close, but he didn’t think that there was anything romantic between them.
He hoped that there was nothing romantic between them.
“We’re not all like Captain Custodian over here,” Tusk complained, thrusting his potato-laden fork toward the unnamed. “For some of us, this schnitzel is hard.”
“It’s hard for me too,” the unnamed countered, shaking his head as he stared down at the plate. “All I can think when I look at this food is that someone is going to have to clean all these plates, and it’s probably gonna be one of us.”
Vella smiled, picking up a slice of apple and holding it in front of her mouth, waving it around as she spoke.
“I think it’s nice. There’s something honest about it. You do the work, help your fellow guildmates, and learn humility. That kind of thing’s important. Havenspire is filled with people who are just out for themselves. It’s nice to be somewhere like this where we look out for each other.”
Tusk grunted. “That’s all fine, but would it really hurt if they brought in a few automated cleaners? We could still do all that humility schnitzel as well.”
The unnamed grinned. “I think you’re missing the point.”
Naleth grunted, twisting his neck to one side as he rolled his shoulders. The unnamed looked up at the towering figure, who was sitting on the ground next to the table, but still managing to loom high above the others.
“What’s up, big man?” the unnamed asked.
Naleth pointed a meaty finger toward his right shoulder.
“Soreness, from holding the roof up. Very heavy.”
“The roof? Of this place you mean?”
The big troll nodded, throwing a thumb over his shoulder toward the back of the main hall.
“Roof of big room in back. New room. Naleth Who Tends holds roof while hammer man hits with hammer.”
The unnamed grinned. “It sounds like you just stood there while someone beat the schnitzel out of you.”
Naleth shook his head, an expression of concern spreading across his stony face. “No, no. Not beatings.” He pointed up towards the lofted ceiling of the guild hall. “Hammer on stone and wood. To make new room.”
Vella leaned forward. “He was just joking, Naleth. He didn’t mean it.”
The big brute looked from Vella to the unnamed and then to Tusk, his worried expression slowly shifting back into its usual state. It was very clear that he didn’t quite understand, but the reassuring looks from the others got the message through.
“Three days of this schnitzel!” Tusk spat, tossing his fork down onto the plate and shaking his head.
“It’s like the whole Karate Kid thing,” the unnamed offered. “Mr. Miyagi, remember? Wax on wax off.”
He received blank looks from both Vella and Tusk.
“It was a movie back in the eighties. Classic. My dad made me watch it like a dozen times when I was a kid. This old guy teaches a scrawny kid how to fight by making him do all these chores around his house. Cleaning and polishing his car. Sanding and painting a fence and some kind of wooden walkway. That kind of thing.”
Tusk frowned. “I don’t get it,” he said, face twisted in confusion.
“After a while, the kid realized that the old man was just taking advantage of him, getting him to do all his housework and just clean up his place. He gets all upset and tells the old man that he’s gonna quit, but then Mr. Miyagi shows him his first karate move, and it turns out the stuff he’d been doing was actually really useful.”
“Useful how?” Vella asked, leaning forward thoroughly enthralled by the story.
“It’s how he learned how to deflect attacks, I think.”
The unnamed demonstrated, trying to remember the move he’d seen in the movie.
“Wax on, wax off. That’s how the old guy taught the kid his first karate technique.”
Tusk grunted. “Why did he need to learn karate, though?”
The unnamed sighed. “Well, there were these other kids and one of knew karate and the boy liked this girl…”
Laughter spilled out from the pair sitting opposite him. Tusk almost choked as he guffawed, turning to Vella.
“I can’t do it! He was gonna explain the whole plot of Karate Kid to us!”
Vella laughed, her eyes lighting up as her cheeks reddened slightly.
“Schnitzel! So, you both know the movie?” the unnamed pressed.
“Hash yeah, dude,” Tusk said, almost offended at the notion that he wouldn’t get the reference. “Wax on wax off. Are you kidding me?! Like you said, it’s a classic. We were just messing with you.”
The half-orc started laughing again.
“You should have seen your face, dude. You’re, like, concentrating really hard, trying to remember the movie, but it’s like your also baffled that someone wouldn’t get the reference.”
“I’m sorry,” Vella said, reaching out and putting her hand on the unnamed’s. “That was cruel.”
The unnamed felt a thrill pass up his arm at her touch. He smiled, heart suddenly thumping in his chest.
“I’m glad I didn’t have to keep going,” he said. “I was having trouble remembering it all.”
“Yeah you were!” Tusk said, jabbing a finger toward him. “I could see it in your eyes. Priceless!”
Vella pulled back her hand, and the unnamed felt as though the sun had suddenly moved behind a cloud. She went on eating, and he forced himself to look away from her, the memory of her touch lingering in his mind and causing the hairs on the back of his neck to tingle.
“Well, anyway,” he went on, “you get my point, right?”
Tusk nodded. “Yeah, of course. But I don’t think it’s a Mr. Miyagi situation here. I think they’re just trying to teach us about humility and all that junk.”
Vella turned to him, shaking her head. “All that junk?”
“Yeah, like be humble and serve the guild and look after others. All that junk.”
The unnamed snorted, laughing at the genuinely confused expression on the half-orc’s face.
“Seems like you haven’t learned the lesson yet. Maybe a few more days scrubbing pots and pans will sort you out?”
Tusk grimaced. “Can’t wait.”
Naleth bent down and tapped the unnamed on the shoulder, leaning in close and whispering in a voice that was loud enough that everyone sitting at the table heard it.
“What is waxon?”