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“Huh, seriously? Lady, this job requires counting and maths, and I know you sheltered ‘nd coddled Far Western women are stupider than an orc!”
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“BUAHAHAHA! This is too funny! Woman, unless you are willing to sell me that pretty body of yours, I ain’t hiring you for Demon-shit!”
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“Unless you are a freelancer or were from Graillight—warmful sleep be to their souls—then, sorry lady: not interested in whatever you have to offer”
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“PFFFT, you know, I prefer to have employees who don’t need to take time off every month”
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“Oh great, a spoiled company gal no doubt! What’s with the fancy mask, anyway? Your company daddy kick ya out forcing you to be a fancy tavern whore, huh?”
-||||-
“Sorry ma’am… I have reasons to be skeptical of Far Western ladies, New World colonial you may be but…women in our lands tend to be more…well, to say…skilled and determined, a seeable fact I trust more than your assurances”
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“Women, the only jobs you have available to you unless you are a freelancer are being a tavern wench or a whore on the street behaha! I mean, sure, there’s the Guild but good luck with that dying relic! You aren’t even a fighter or warrior at all, just look at you!”
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Days… How many days had passed? She lost track; all she knew was that she had seemingly rummaged through what had felt like the entire outskirts of this gargantuan settlement, searching and seeking and finding only…to meet the same responses on repeat over and over again. If not one thing, it was another thing; if not that other thing, it was that one thing.
She was a ‘woman’; she was ‘Far Western’; she was ‘short’; she was something or something else or something both… Ugh.
She looked around… She did not know where she even was anymore. This accursed city was a maze, hard to navigate.
So large and disgustingly sprawled this settlement was, her quest had yet to take her beyond the inner-walls and to the coastal districts and the ‘grand port’. There were simply far too many places to scout. Though, she could predict that even if she were to go so deep and far…she would no doubt just be given the same exact response.
She sighed for the nth time… So stupid…all of this was…to see someone such as her reduced to this. Denizens…and their stupid abstractions…pfft, would that she had not so many protocols engraved into her to keep her calm and collected, for she would certainly be kicking at the pavement in utter frustration.
Yet, instead, she calmly made way down the street around, completely flat affect; though, of course, such was the case even on the inside. So much of her emotions were difficult for her to truly comprehend, even though there was something happening deep down within, affecting her from behind her mind’s shadow.
Inhibited and detached, in more ways than not. All she knew was that she was reconsidering everything…though only to meet the same conclusion of: what else was she going to do, stranded and trapped here alone?
She made way, remembering the convoluted route she had taken, to return to her apartment. Her first rent had already been due a day or so prior, which had costed her a gold and twenty silvers this time. She had a month to figure things out, then, before the next due date.
Truly, how much she had fallen to be so absorbed in fixation on something so stupid as ‘rent’…pfft.
Ugh… If only she had a synthesizer to make these ‘silvers’ and ‘golds’ herself…
Oh but then…if she were to produce too much, suddenly the value of these trinkets would collapse! Why? The value itself was prescribed by the denizens themselves. It was neither real nor objective…simply a made-up abstraction of their imagination and minds! Ugh…truly, she could not understand them.
As she wandered and made way, she noticed…standing near a…decorative column of sorts—a rather recently constructed one, seemingly, commemorating some event of sorts relevant only to these locals—were two…armored men, ‘guards’ specifically—the security forces of this denizen locality.
Their intermediate plated armor was distinct compared to any mercenary or adventurer; their chest-piece was painted, emblazoned with the ‘heraldic device’ of the County of Coastfield, with their heavy tunic donned underneath being of a rather distinct dark-purple color—a peculiar color dye to have for such a primitive place. And, of course, they were armed with polearms of sorts, ‘halberds’ specifically.
She had seen such guards plenty of times… They were always out and about patrolling and enforcing the mandated protocols and customs of this locality, to which all denizens had to adhere or face…severe consequences and penalties.
Though, this time, these two chatting guards in particular had caught her attention…not the individuals themselves, but rather the…sudden realization…
Hmm…she stared at them… Military security was a type of ‘job’, no?
A strange feeling…suddenly entered her being, one she…struggled to comprehend, but was still affected by. Surely a well-functioning and efficiently optimized military apparatus would be…far more forthcoming to would-be others and lack these ridiculous inefficient abstractions and nonsenses?
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Surely…this had to be it; it had to be… the more she thought, the more she realized, no…of course! There was…truly…no other path for…someone like her. Primitive, certainly, and she did not necessarily…want to kill or hurt any local denizens…or anything for that matter…deep down within, especially for the local’s own abstracted squabblings no less, but…what else was there for someone like her to do? A military…was still a military, after all.
Indeed, she gravitated towards these dark-purple guards as if she had been snatched by their gravity’s tugging pull. Time seemingly ceased as she so suddenly and spontaneously appeared before them, standing next to and between both of the chatting guards.
« Salvéte—ehem » “—hello!” she so greeted with a donned charm.
The guards, noticing, turned and met the mask-obscured eyes of this short-but-perfectly-average-for-her-standards Far Western girl who stood before them with rather the smiling charm.
“…what may we…do for you ma’am?” one guard inquired, tilting his head.
“…uhm…if you have a problem…you need to report, you should try the Company embassy and headquarters” the other stated.
« Ad la contraría jo ĵusto vuonderants eșom sûr quomo én las forças securitați de vos militare kâ potsíet……ehem » “—I give sorry…rightly, actually, I was just…uhm…with the curiosity of how to join…your…ehm… What is the word again…? ‘Army’? Yes…that” she said and inquired…perhaps becoming a bit too ahead of herself, for her mind seemingly struggled with…well…language.
The guards looked to themselves and then back at her; “Well…young lady, first one must present himself to the Count’s court… The Count’s guard are his personal men-at-arms charged with the defense of his city, holdings, and dominion…and it is no easy process to become one” a guard responded.
Her smile widening, she leaned in even closer; “And…how does the one present to this ‘count’?” she inquired with a charm.
“…well first he must…sigh—actually, this may be easier to explain to… Actually, I hadn’t even asked: for whom are you asking on behalf?” the guard began to respond but then…abruptly inquired.
The foreigner tilted her head, somewhat confused for…it should be…obvious.
By this point, she should have immediately presumed where this was almost certainly going, but some…semblance of genuine…and sincere…optimism, even if vaguely existent, persisted deep down within.
“…myself, of course?” she replied.
The two guards, again, looked right at each other and then back at the foreigner, evaluating her petite and rather ‘girlish’ figure; their cheeks expanded as they puffed in what could only be described as a suppressed laugh of sorts.
The guard exhaled deeply; “…you humor us so! I mean no offense, but we are called men-at-arms for a reason; war is not becoming of a lady…and you do not appear to be a warrior at all, nor even an adventurer” he remarked, her smile fading quickly.
« De corsâ: hoc quidem iterù » she muttered in whisper; of course, this again.
“Though, with that said…the armies of these land make exceptions for only freelancer mages and…well, adventurers, or former adventurers at least…especially those from mercenary companies…and you seem to be neither of those…but your…willingness to want to follow the path of glory and fighting…humbles us” the other guard stated.
She sighed; “…I see…well…I will take the leave then; good day to you, I give grace” she responded, bowing courteously, before she promptly departed away.
She was not affected by this; such was to be expected. This was insignificant to her, completely and utterly meaningless. As soon as she distanced herself sufficiently and out of sight, her heel found itself kicking…into the pavement, practically bashing, as she let out a sharp tsk.
Stupid denizens, stupid denizens, this again this again…always this. What functioning military apparatus did not integrate all possible roles, components, and personnel into it?
Certainly, the physical and biological differences between the generic and specialist humiforms were far more significant for this place and their military needs; but, even then, such overt differences could be accounted for and rectified with proper well-planned design in order to incorporate all possible components into a single functioning apparatus, tailoring their capabilities—both strengths and weaknesses—to roles and functions for which they would be best suited in consideration to such affairs.
Stupid…stupid…primitives, their endless abstractions and nonsenses create such chronic inefficiencies in everything they happen to so do and so touch… Just…just look at this settlement!
From her observations of this locality and its periphery, even in an environment of ‘scarcity’ that so burdened places such as here, it had more than enough necessary material resources to ensure adequate maintenance across the entire apparatus. Yet, for abstract reasons beyond her comprehension, large chunks of this settlement were neglected, poorly maintained, and poorly sanitized whereas other chunks were seemingly overmaintained.
She sighed and let out a deep exhale; her mind quickly flattened in a sudden and sharp cold inhibiting calm, the turbulence subsiding. Such was, after all, to be expected with denizens.
She continued to walk and make way, and, as she did so, she reflected…and planned. One thing she continued to hear about repeatedly…was this apparent ‘exception’: these so-called ‘freelancers’—a type of ‘independent mage’ or ‘spellcaster’ in these lands. Right…these lands had a ‘magic system’ of sorts… Her former associate had told her a few dozen things or so regarding it.
Hmm…well, she herself was an arcane specialist…technically; though, her arcanity was perhaps something that should best be kept more hidden and in shadow. Never mind that she did not even know how to become this ‘mage’ of theirs. Never never mind that learning an alien practice of arcanity was…difficult in general…and her own…peculiarities…certainly would not help either.
Yet, nevertheless, after all these days of scouring about, it was clear that…there seemed to be no…real alternatives and so-called ‘opportunities’ for her; at least, not in Coastfield. Thus…what else was there to do by this point? She may as well…investigate and…see what could be found regarding these ‘mages’ of theirs… tomorrow, of course, for it was now becoming rather late…and she was becoming, perhaps, quite…tired.
She has had enough of denizens for a day.