Soon after Max, Alby, Dalen, and Zaia had started at the mines, the four friends had made a pact.

  In Starsword Online, Copper Gems weren’t the only variety that could be found. Sometimes, the crevices dropped more valuable gems… silver, ruby, or gold, and perhaps others Max didn’t know about. They could be worth hundreds or even thousands of times more than copper gems were, and if you were lucky enough to find one, you got to keep it in full. No splitting with Proprietor Skole or the guards.

  It was one of the ways the proprietor kept up production and morale. The ever-present hope of a giant payday could be a very powerful motivator.

  However, these drops were extremely rare. To increase their chances, many of the miners made pacts with one another. If any of the four seated at the table got lucky, they’d agreed to split the coins four ways. It might not be enough to vault them up from the Bottoms in the outside world, but even just a fourth of a gold gem would make their lives a whole lot easier.

  “Look, it's not like I don't want to believe you.” Zaia looked down at her calloused hands. “If we somehow get lucky and one of us finds a rare gem... I’d never hold a pickaxe ever again.”

  “I’d try every dish in every restaurant in Tiann,” said Dalen.

  “I’d—” Max began to say, but he was cut off by the loud thunk of a mug slamming onto a nearby table.

  "That," followed a gravely voice, "is some of the stupidest damn talk I've ever heard."

  Without even needing to look, Max knew exactly who had spoken. Brennan.

  The middle-aged man was seated at the next table over; Max spotted him when he'd entered the tavern, but did his best to ignore it. Now the older miner turned in his seat, his gaunt face wearing a scowl like he'd been born with it.

  Brennan had been working in the mines longer than Max and his friends combined, and it showed. The bags under his eyes were so dark, it made him look half-zombie. The sickness the miner carried was more a spiritual sickness than a physical one, however. A black shadow followed him everywhere, along with the others who chose to keep his company. Brennan’s group had a mean reputation, even if they were some of the best and most experienced miners in Brix.

  “You listen to me," the older man continued. “If you find a gem like that, you put it straight in your inventory. Don’t tell a soul. Nobody! If you ever want to escape the Bottoms for good, you exchange that gem as soon as possible and never come back to this infernal world.”

  “Look, we were just—"

  “Just what? Problem is you kids still think this is a damn game? This whole place is nothin' but a playground for the people whose boots trample us. They ran out of ways to profit from our lives out there, so they created new ones to enslave!” As his voice continued to rise in volume, Brennan punctuated his words with another slam of the mug. “The worst part? We wear these chains willingly. Hell, we clasped the manacles ourselves.”

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  At this point, all the eyes in the taproom had turned towards Brennan and his tirade. The man was practically shouting. Even the NPCs who ran the inn—old Rilliard, his wife and daughter—had paused in their tasks. They stood wide-eyed behind the bar counter, watching the scene unfold.

  For a moment, the air hung still and silent, until—

  "Go to bed, grandpa."

  The taphall erupted in laughter. Max looked around to see who had spoken. To his surprise, it was one of the adventurers. The tall man, the warrior. After some of the laughing died down, the warrior kept going.

  "If your britches are too tight," he said, in a half-amused voice, "do us all a favor and try loosening 'em a little."

  Brennan laughed, bitterly. “You lot are the worst! Adventurers, trading your lives for vague rumors of treasure hidden down in that hellhole. You’ve got it so so good out there—” he pointed up, referencing the real world, “that you don’t even know the worth of your own damn lives. Good riddance.” He took a last swig of his ale and stood up, sending the chair skittering behind him.

  Then, just like that, Brennan left. He disappeared up the inn stairs without so much as a backward glance.

  Though a few feeble laughs and mutterings of “crazy” or “grump” floated in the air, whatever liveliness the taphall had before Brennan’s outburst had dissipated in his wake. The miners had laughed, but Brennan's words had a strange weight—each one of them felt it. The adventurers, on the other hand, seemed to have already forgotten about the scene entirely. They ignored the rest of the room, engrossed in studying their map.

  Soon, the alehall began to empty, miners returning to their rented rooms to rest or logout. It was the same for Max and his group. Their excitement of their previous conversation never really recovered. Each time they tried to talk about something, it felt like they were only avoiding having to think about what Brennan had said. One by one they said their goodnights and excused themselves.

  It wasn’t until Max had began climbing the creaking wooden stairs that he realized how achy his bones were. The excitement of the stone and the alehall had masked his low Fatigue, but by the third floor of the inn—where the rooms were smallest and cheapest—he was quite ready to fall into bed. He opened the rickety door to his quarters and latched it behind him.

  The room Max rented was hardly more than a closet, with only a lumpy straw bed and wobbly nightstand as furnishings. The slope of the wooden roof cut the ceiling well in half, forcing Max to duck just to make it over to the bed.

  Once there, he slid off his ore-stained clothes and grimy boots, before washing his face with water from a wooden bucket. It had rained the night before, and while most people would complain about leaky shingles, for Max it had its benefits. When that was all done, Max wanted nothing more to sleep.

  Unfortunately, when you exist in two different realities, you unavoidably inherit the responsibilities of both.

  Max laid down on the bed, which was slightly too short—his feet just hung off the bottom. He shifted around until he was comfortable, brought up the menu window. When it shimmered into place, he scrolled down with his finger and pressed the button that said:

LOGOUT