After the meal, the initiates were led to their sleeping quarters, a large, rectangular room with bunks lined up against the wall to either side. They settled in for the night, and the unnamed let the tiredness of his muscles and mind lull him to sleep. That was the plan, anyway, but it turned out that his mind was far less willing to drift off than his body.
He tossed and turned for a while, his thoughts invariably turning to Vella. She was lying just a few bunks away, up top with Tusk snoring loudly on the lower bunk. From where he lay, the unnamed could just make out the hint of her hair, but his mind held the image of her face firmly front and center.
He wanted to know everything about her. Who she had been prior to coming to Havenspire, how long she’d been here. Why she’d chosen to look like an elf. What the deal was with those daggers she kept on her belt. His mind churned with questions and concocted scenarios where he boldly asked those queries and she responded with a smile, playing with her hair and reaching over to touch his arm.
He enjoyed the fantasies for a time before trying to force his mind to settle. What had been a wonderful distraction was now an irritation. He was dead tired but couldn’t sleep. If it wasn’t Vella popping into his mind, it was the slavers and the harrowing memory of his time in the Blood Pit. Now and then, his mind combined the two, placing Vella in the arena with him, while the Blade Dancers sliced and diced prisoners and the sands were drenched in blood.
Eventually, he drifted off to sleep, waking the next morning to the sound of a ringing bell as Leo roused the initiates. What followed were two days of back-aching work, scrubbing, cleaning, and sweeping. There was so much work to do that the unnamed concluded the guild must have stored up a bunch of jobs, neglecting basic maintenance duties for months on end and saving them for the initiates. He asked Leo if this was the case and got a knowing wink by way of reply.
The work was grueling and monotonous, but the unnamed found himself drifting into a kind of meditative state as he worked. It wasn’t that he enjoyed the mindless work, but it did have a calming effect on his mind. In contract, Tusk could be heard complaining from just about every room in the hall, and it was clear that the other initiates were just as frustrated by the work, if a little less willing to voice their complaint.
The unnamed supposed that his own life circumstances prior to coming to Havenspire might have something to do with his attitude. Only a few days ago he’d been lying in a hospital bed, racked with pain and barely able to summon enough strength to get through the daylight hours without blacking out. The work here was mind-numbingly boring and demanding, but at least he was awake. At least he was able to use his arms and legs.
This new body he’d been given might have been built for custodial duties, but he felt strong and capable for the first time in years. This body wasn’t ravaged by disease, it hadn’t wasted away or been weakened by prolonged illness.
“You’re doing it again,” Tusk had said while they were polishing the stone floor of one of the larger rooms in the hall.
The unnamed turned to Tusk. “What?”
“Smiling. Like you actually enjoy this stuff. You’re doing it again.”
“Oh, am I? Sorry, I didn’t notice.”
The half-orc shook his head, grunting. “You love all this wax on wax off stuff, don’t you?”
The unnamed shrugged. “Not really. Honestly, I just love having arms and legs that work.” He flexed the fingers of his right hand, working feeling back into them after an hour or so spent gripping a polishing rag. “Besides, this was what I was supposed to be doing here anyway, wasn’t it? Me being a custodian and all.”
Tusk snorted with laughter. “Yeah, good point. Guess you were made for it.”
“Captain Custodian,” the unnamed mused.
Tusk laughed, and they continued their work. The two days passed as swiftly as the first, working until night, eating, and then sleeping with little time for anything else. Each day they were given their work orders by Leo and each day they were paired with a different initiate for two hours at a time, so that they all got to know one another.
The unnamed found that his reputation as the custodian of the group made it easier to strike up conversations with the other initiates. He had become something of a mascot for the group, a representation of the work they were all forced to endure and a way of breaking the ice.
By far the most nerve-racking portion of the three-day period was the time he spent polishing boots with Vella. Amid the scent of leather and shoe polish, they sat together off to the side of the main entrance hall, working and watching visitors come and go. Desperate to form some connection with the elf, he started talking.
“So, how is it that both of you have names, you and Tusk? I thought that was wiped when you first come here.”
Vella smiled, prodding her rag into the polish pot and going to work on the rather large pair of boots she was cradling in her arms. The unnamed couldn’t be sure, but she seemed a little ashamed of the answer. “We paid for it, just like we paid to be uploaded as an elf and half-orc.”
“You paid for a name?”
“Of course we did!”
They both turned to see Tusk strolling in from around the corner. He walked over, leaning against a nearby pillar and chewing on an apple. Vella frowned up at him.
“Had enough for the day, have we?”
He grinned. “I’m on a break.”
She rolled her eyes. “Really? A break?”
“Yeah. Union rules. I get a ten-minute break every two hours. What? Didn’t you read the contract?”
Vella chuckled in response, turning her attention back to the oversized boot she was polishing. The unnamed pressed his question.
“How much did it cost to get into the guild?”
Tusk shook his head. “We’re not in the guild yet, dude. If we can pass our initial training, then we’re in. The money just gives us a shot, that’s all.”
“Okay, but how much?”
The half-orc shrugged. “About half the price of getting a shot at any other guild. Best option if you’re wanting to work with blades or you’re not really sure what your specialty is, but you know you want to be in melee. Plus, the Brawler’s Guild has a killer reputation. As long as you can put up with all the honor and service stuff, then you’re gold. They don’t really do dungeon delves, though, so a lot of people don’t bother trying to get into the Brawler’s Guild. Most of the really good gear you find in dungeons, but these guys prefer contracts for some reason.”
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The unnamed sat staring at the pair of them, trying to wrap his head around what he was hearing. “This place?” he asked, motioning with his rag around the room. “This guild is one of the better ones?”
Tusk nodded. “Easiest and cheapest way to gain rank and get experience. If you’re lucky and you put the work in, you can advance faster than in most of the other guilds too. Dangerous though, that’s partly why it’s cheaper than the others. Like I said, they do a bunch of contracts and those can be tricky.”
Vella frowned. “Trickier than dungeon delves?”
“Okay, well, maybe not,” the half-orc admitted. “But this is a smaller guild, so it’s easier to get some of the tougher gigs early on. You ramp up the danger, but the rewards are better too. Plus, the guild hall is smack bang in the middle of the Undercity. It’s the worst location of any guild in Havenspire. That’s another reason why the entry price is lower than the others.”
The unnamed nodded, noting that Tusk hadn’t actually said how much it had cost them both to get into the guild.
Vella leaned forward, her expression earnest, blue eyes opened wide. “Didn’t your consultant tell you any of this? I know Havenspire isn’t what it’s supposed to be, but they should have at least walked you through the options, given you the choice of which guild or society you wanted to join, what kind of profession you were looking at.”
The unnamed shrugged. “No money, remember. I was sick for a long time before I came here. My parents did what they could, but I was never really able to hold down a job, so there was barely enough money to get into the sim in the first place, let alone anything else. Everything my parents had saved went to medical bills, and they were already up to their necks in debt when my condition got worse. They had just enough for a basic package and then I was supposed to pay off the rest of the debt in-game, with custodial stuff.”
“They should have run you through the options, at least,” Vella insisted. “Once you worked of your debt, you’d be able to pick up some skills, look at joining a guild.”
The unnamed nodded, his expression souring.
“Or get thrown into the Blood Pits and killed over and over again until your brain turns to mush.”
Tusk and Vella shared a knowing look. Once more The unnamed couldn’t help but wonder what their relationship actually was. There was definitely more there than simple friendship, but he’d never seen them demonstrate romantic affection.
Tusk growled. “The Company lied. Lied about a lot of things. They take your money and then shaft you.” He poked his apple at the unnamed. “You’re not the only one that didn’t get what they signed up for, you know. I mean, you got it pretty bad, but none of us ended up where we were supposed to.”
He tapped a hand against his chest.
“Two years it took me to get here. I was supposed to be dropped at the door, on day one. That’s what I paid for. Instead, I had to work at the flapjacking docks until I could scrounge up enough money to audition for a place as an initiate. Two years! If I’d known beforehand, I would have saved my money instead of handing it over to the Company.”
The unnamed nodded. “So, even if I’d had the money to come in at a higher level, there’s no guarantee it would have happened?”
Tusk shook his head. “I was supposed to come in as a journeyman. They said I’d walk right into the guild, no problem. Instead, I get dumped into a pile of fish guts and have to work my fingers to the bone for the next two years just to get a shot at being an initiate. And I’m still gonna have to pass the initiation test before I’m properly in. Paid good money for early advancement, but here I am starting off down at the bottom like everyone else. Had to learn how to fight myself, getting lessons from whoever would teach me, until I met Vel at the training center.”
The unnamed turned to Vella. “How about you?”
She looked down at the half-polished boot.
“Didn’t have enough money to go for immediate advancement, not if I wanted to look like this as well.” She pointed to her face, offering a weak smile. “I figured I’d have all the time I needed to work my way up the ranks, so it was more important to look and feel the way I wanted to. It’s forever after all, so you want to be happy with how you are in here.”
Tusk leaned forward, jerking a thumb in her direction. “Three years she had to wait. Three years! Same schnitzel at me. She was supposed to get dropped right at the front door, mid-level skills ready to go. But instead…”
“Instead,” Vella sighed, “I had to work at it, save my credits, and learn my craft in the training center, like Tusk.” She shook her head. “But I’m here now, so I need to make the best of it. What happened before doesn’t matter as long as I can make it work here and now.”
The unnamed couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. His entry into the great game had been traumatic, almost terminal, but he’d also made it to the Brawler’s Guild after just one day. True, he had no skills to speak of and would likely get kicked out of the guild for his incompetence—unless they kept him on as a boot polisher—but it still felt wrong to have made it this far when others had struggled for years for the same opportunity.
Tusk grinned, showing rows of dagger-like teeth, his dark features intense. “I heard about that business with the Blood Pits. That’s insane, dude.”
The unnamed nodded. “Yeah. That was my first introduction to Havenspire. We got dragged off as soon as we arrived. They stuck collars around our necks and then carted us off to the pits.”
He shook his head, remembering the sight of the unarmed Blade Dancer tearing her enemies apart. He could still feel the sting of her sword slicing through the meat of his back, could smell the blood and sand, feel the tacky fingers of his hands where he tried to use the white powder to…
“How the did you manage to get out?” Vella asked.
The floor shook, and they all turned to see Naleth lumbering past. He raised a hand, waving and walking over.
“Hello friends,” the brute said, a sprinkling of what looked like stone dust covering his head and shoulder.
“Hey,” Tusk said, pointing down at the unnamed. “We were just asking Private Polish here how he managed to survive the blood pits.”
Naleth’s eyes grew wide as he nodded, a wide grin spreading across his face.
“Friend make magics!” the giant said, as he held up a thick finger. “Use finger to make powerful magics.”
Tusk chuckled at that. “We’ve all made magics with our finger, boss,” he said, eyebrows raised.
A snort of laughter slipped through the unnamed’s lips before he had a chance to stop it. “Yeah, well, I don’t really know what I did. It all happened pretty fast. Naleth says there was some kind of magic shield. I can remember drawing something in the sand and… It’s all a bit fuzzy.”
“Fuzzy finger magic,” Tusk said with a grin. “Got it.”
The unnamed ignored the comment. “The real reason we’re here is because some patron pulled us out of the pits. Gave us some kind of sponsorship, or whatever. I guess they paid the price so we could get in.”
“A patron?” Vella mused. “Do you know who it is?”
He shook his head. “No idea.” He pointed to Naleth. “I can see why they picked Naleth. He actually one his fight and, well, look at him. I’m not so sure about me, though.”
“Seriously?” Vella asked. “You don’t think the fact that you spontaneously used magic might have something to do with it?”
“I guess so, but I can’t even remember what happened. Besides, isn’t magic pretty common in this place? I thought Havenspire was full of it.”
“Magic is common, but full-blown mancers aren’t,” she said. “There are a lot of magic users around, sure. Priests and paladins, druids, even engineers. They all use magic as part of their main class pathway. There are a lot of mancers too, I guess, but compared to all the other classes, they’re in the minority. From what I hear, being a pure magic user is one of the hardest classes to master. Most of the other classes just use potions and enchantments to enhance their abilities.”
“Scrolls too,” Tusk added, dropping the apple core into his mouth and chewing contentedly.
“Right,” Vella said. “You can buy spells and that sort of thing. Enchanted weapons, and all that. But actually using magic without a weapon or existing skill to base it on is a lot rarer and harder to do. It takes a lot of training, and I think you need some kind of innate skill to begin with. If you don’t have that, being a mancer isn’t something you can just pick up.”
Tusk grunted. “Much easier to go with melee or range weaponry first. You can start using magic later on. Go with enchanted weapons initially, with a few scrolls here and there. Slowly get used to it and then move from a pure melee build into a melee-magic combo or something like that.”
The unnamed nodded. He wasn’t sure what any of this meant for him. How had he been able to use magic in the blood pit? More importantly, how was that single act enough to compel a patron to drag him out of the slavers’ den and give him a shot at becoming a member of the Brawler’s Guild?
All he had was questions with no answers, but one thing was sure. He was going to make the most of this opportunity. Whether it was polishing boots or using sorcery, he’d give it his all.