Though Max had only been out for a little more than an hour, the streets were already becoming livelier. When he reached the wood and plaster façade of the of the Magnificent Dog, however, he found his feet carrying him forward, past the inn and back towards the main street weaving through the heart of the city. Now that his map was updated with all the city’s districts, he felt like wandering a little alone. He needed some time to think, and though Tiann was a Tier 2 city with players good and back, Max knew he would have nothing to worry about so long as he steered clear of the Shingles. Besides, Entrails had said the district only becomes dangerous at night, and it was still just late morning, the sun high overhead.
The Docks bordered the eastern edge of the Merchant’s District, and that’s where Max found himself next. The smell of salt and seaweed was strong in the air, as were the intermittent whiffs of the day’s fresh catch coming in on the many fishing boats out on the water. There were shipping boats as well, offloading goods side-by-side with the shouting fisherfolk crews and their nets. It was certainly a rougher area than Merchant’s, the streets disorganized and littered with rubbish—broken barrels half-full of rainwater, tangled nets, and coils of discarded rope cluttered the corners of the streets.
Max, however, hardly registered any of this. For the first time, he was presented with the vast expanse of the shining sea, which stretched all the way out to the horizon. His eyes followed the shore and its many docks westward, until it reached and wrapped around a small hill. There, an impressive castle overlooked the city and sea, surrounded by its own strong walls. It’s spires rose boldly into the sky, tipped with banners of flapping in the ocean breeze.
This panorama… he'd never seen anything like it, virtual or otherwise. Not in person, at least. Max understood that the highest floors of Gray City’s highrises, which stood far above the thick layer of smog, could see over the wasteland to the western coast, but few from the Bottoms were ever lucky enough to see it. He stood there for a few moments more, taking everything in. He’d take fishy air and creaking boats over the choking dust and endless tinking of the pickaxe-filled mining tunnels any day.
Once he was satisfied, Max turned around and began making his way back to the Magnificent Dog—with one detour.
After taking a peak at his map, he took the long way back, purposefully passing through the Guilds District. As he walked through the relatively-quieter streets, he made mental notes of al the signs he noticed along the way—the Carpenters Guild, the Alchemists Guild, the Guild of Smiths. Each had its own guild house, which varied in size, shape, and opulence. It wasn’t hard to see which ones were most successful. The Masons Guild towered over most of the others, but even it couldn’t hold a candle to the seven-story Astronomers Guild. Though all these had already appeared on his mini-map thanks to Kell, it still helped to know what each looked like and where they were in relation to one another. Later, once he felt more settled, he’d return here looking for apprenticeships. As he understood it, guilds were the best way to learn a craft, which could be very lucrative for those who dedicated themselves to mastery. However, since they were all mostly low-risk, high-reward positions, open spots were rare and always difficult to obtain. According to Entrails, anyway.
As Max started back to the Magnificent Dog, he began to subconsciously rank the guilds on a scale of most likely to be accepted to least likely. Hopefully his luck would hold when it came time to get his foot in the door of a guild—any guild, really. Nesto’s gift of starting gold wouldn’t last him long, and while adventuring sounded glamorous and well-paying… it was also far more dangerous. Chances were he’d die horribly before ever reaching a level where one could raid the big dungeons and make some serious coin.
***
When Max returned the Magnificent Dog, the first thing he noticed were the mounts tied up outside. When he entered, he found the inn a little different from when he’d left earlier that morning. First, there were the people. Instead of empty like usual, the common room rang with voices. Several men and women sat relaxed at the tables. By their weapons and fancy clothes, Max could tell most were adventurers, but there was also a bearded man in more normal garb in the middle of a conversation.
“I’m surprised you’re celebrating this early,” said one of the seated adventurers. “Would’ve figured your guild would be the busiest, considering’ the day and all.”
“Mate, we spend months preparing for Meteor Day. Months! If the Brewmaster made us work today, the entire guild would mutiny. We earned it! So when I hears old Nesto was putting on a party, I knew where I’d be heading. Brings back memories, this place…”
The second difference was the decoration. Banners hung from the walls and upper-story railings, in Tiann’s colors—vibrant green representing the earth, and gold representing sheaves of wheat. The rugs too seemed brighter, as if they’d been taken outside and had the years of dirt and dust beaten from from. The tables no longer showed bare wood, instead covered by tasseled tablecloths. Kell was playing the dutiful barhand, wearing his recognizable off-white apron and keeping an eye on the new arrivals. Whenever a cup went empty, the young man was there in a heartbeat, pitcher of ale ready and waiting.
Nesto finally emerged from the kitchen, wiping flour from his hands on a rap he then slung over his shoulder. When Max got his attention, the innkeep beamed and walked over.
“Pariah my boy!” he said, jovial as ever. He stretched his arms towards the common room. “Can you believe it? Former Guests! I wasn’t sure if anyone would respond to my invitation, but look at the place!”
Max couldn’t help but smile. Nesto truly seemed over the moon. “That’s great Nesto, really. But even though I’m pretty new here, it’s not hard to see why. Who could turn down an invitation to the best inn in Tiann?”
The innkeep laughed heartily and squeezed Max’s shoulder like a proud father. “Ha! That’s right! Who indeed!”
“Listen, Nesto, I was hoping you had a moment so I could get your advice on som—”
“Kell!” Nesto barked, peering over Max’s shoulder to the bar counter. “Keep an eye on our patrons! Let no cup go empty! Let it be known throughout the city that in the Magnificent Dog, one never waits for a refill!”
“Got it, uncle. You don’t need to keep telling me.”
Satisfied, Nesto refocused on Max. “Sorry lad, didn’t catch that. You were saying something?”
“Yeah, I was wondering if I could ask—”
“You there! Drystilian!” This time, the innkeep had gotten distracted by someone misbehaving in the common room. “Get your boot off the chair, lad! I know you haven't forgotten my rules! Don’t tell me you’ve become a fancy adventurer but lost all your manners in the process!” Nesto shook his head. “Sorry Pariah, can you repeat it once more?”
At this point, Max wasn’t going to bother trying to broach the subject of the Wrath Stone again. Clearly Nesto had his hands full with preparations, and while Max was eager to unravel more of the mystery, it could wait another day. Meteor Day obviously had the innkeep’s full attention. “Um, have you seen Entrails? I didn’t catch him this morning.”
However Nesto was again preoccupied, this time having been called over by one of his former Guests. “What’s that? Yes, yes… indeed lad, indeed…” He clapped Max on the back. “New faces, new people! Walk around, meet some folks, I’m afraid I’ve business to take care of!”
“R-right, sure Nesto. I'll...” said Max sheepishly, but the innkeep had already begun to move away towards the gathered adventurers in the common room.
Max made his way to the bar counter, where Kell gave him a knowing, exasperated smile. Without any prompting, the barhand brought over an ale and bowl of stew and slid it across the counter. Max mumbled a thanks. He watched the unfolding festivities for a bit, sipping his ale and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Nesto had disappeared into the kitchen again. Every now and then, one of the adventurers glanced over, but otherwise no one paid him any mind. Max was obviously much lower level than any of the newcomers, and thus of no passing interest. Clearly he didn’t fit in.
When Kell went to refill another adventurer's mug, Max made his escape. He took his food and drink upstairs, and just as he expected everyone was either too preoccupied or uncaring to even notice his absence. Max figured he’d spend some time in his room and wait for the party to grow in size. Maybe later in the evening there’d be some guests more like himself, like Knocks. Besides, now that he knew the Wrath Stone wouldn’t benefit him for some time—until he was able to learn more, anyways—he figured it’d be best to put it in a chest for safekeeping.
On the way, he stopped at Entrails’ room. The big man wasn’t exactly the social butterfly type, so perhaps he had retreated to his room just like Max. He knocked lightly, but there was no answer. He tried again, louder this time. Still, no answer. It seemed Entrails was still out, so Max continued to his room and shut the door behind him.
After finishing the rest of his ale and stew (which was delicious, as usual), Max laid down on the four-poster bed. Warm daylight came through the latticed window, illuminating the dark timber beams and boards of the ceiling. Whether from the heavy stew, ale, or the walking he’d done earlier, soon Max’s eyelids began to droop and his mind began to wander. His thoughts passed from the Wrath Stone to Knocks and the spiders, then to Entrails, wondering where the warrior might’ve disappeared to, what business he might have elsewhere in Tiann…
***
Shouts coming from outside his door pulled Max awake. He sat up immediately, disoriented and alarmed. The room was bathed in darkness—how long had he been asleep for? As his other senses came to him, however, he trained his ear on the voices coming from the hallway. He realized the yelling was not the sound of panic, but of happiness, interspersed with laughter and whistling.
The party. Duh.
Judging by the loudness, Nesto’s party seemed to be a success. Max wondered what time it was. After rubbing the sleep from his eyes and splashing some cold water from the basin by his bed, he left his room to head downstairs and see what the commotion was all about.
In the hours since Max had first fallen asleep, Nesto’s sleepy inn had transformed into a roaring social gathering. Whether that was due to his pamphlets or the ghostlights—courtesy of a Mages Guild novice—which now illuminated the front facade of the building, no one could say for sure. But what was certain was that the Magnificent Dog, if Nesto was to be believed, was more full right now than it had been for many, many years.
The innkeep bounced through the crowd, shaking hands, serving drinks, telling jokes. Nesto seemed fully in his element. Kell appeared less enthusiastic, but as Max watched him, every now and then he caught a twinkle in the young man’s eye, too. At the very least, he was enjoying himself. The two could hardly keep up with all the patrons, but it was clear they were more up to the job in both skill and grace.
Max scanned for Entrails, but didn’t spot him amongst the crowd. The man would’ve stuck out, too—few of the gathered patrons could match Entrails’ rare combination of height and brawn. Max frowned. He hoped everything was alright… but it was silly of him to worry about the warrior. He doubted there were many situations that Entrails couldn’t handle, even on a chaotic night like tonight.
A series of small casks had been set up and tapped on the counter. After Max got himself a mug and filled it up with what turned out to be aged mead, he found a a small corner of the room and again tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.
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However, despite Max’s best efforts, it didn’t take long for someone to notice. Without warning, a long-haired man kicked out a chair and joined him, setting his mug down on the table. The man’s wavy hair was cut just above his shoulders, framing a roguish face and intelligent eyes. He wore the shadow of a beard, but unlike the rest of the patrons filling the common room, the man had on no armor—just a plain tunic and pants.
“Don’t know anyone here either, I take it?” said the man. His voice was calm, almost playful.
Max shrugged. “Not really.”
“Same here. I don’t recognize a soul.” He took a sip from his mug. “You new?”
“More or less.”
The man looked Max up and down, his eyes glancing off the plain white tunic and breeches, the old burnished dagger hanging impotently off his belt. “Let’s go with more,” he said. “No offense.”
“Great, I figured it had to be pretty obvious… Now I know. Thanks.”
The man laughed. “It’s a little surprising, really. New adventurers are few and far in-between these days. If someone joins, it’s usually straight into the Labors. Poor sods. I been to a lumber camp once. Real depressing place.” He shook his head, as if to rid himself of the memory. “Anyways, don’t worry about sticking out. Everyone in this room has been there once, even if they like to forget it.”
"Seems like most everyone here is an adventurer.”
“These people?” The man laughed again, but this time it was laced with an edge of disdain. “Sure. You could say that, depending on your definition… but they’re nobodies, really. Oh, they’ll flex their weapons and armor in public, but believe me, you won’t find any true adventurers here tonight.”
This answer took Max by surprise. “What do you mean?”
“It’s Meteor Day, kid. If you aren’t out there risking your life and competing for the biggest drops of the year, well. You’re a nobody. Trust me.”
“So… you’re calling yourself a nobody.”
“I admit it happily.” The man bowed. “Contrary to these posers, I prefer being a nobody. I mean, just look at me!” It was true. The man seemed like any normal person, closer in dress to Max than any of the other patrons in the room. “No point in being flashy. I like to be unassuming... it benefits my line of work.”
“Which is?”
“Ah, bounty hunting, usually. Leave the meteorites and their treasures to those insane Throne seekers, that’s what I always say. I’m more than glad to track down peekays. You know, red players. Murderers. I do my part and get paid pretty well for it, too.”
“If that’s true, I know a whole camp—” Max quickly caught himself. “I, uh, I know a whole bunch of people who’d appreciate the work you do.” Entrails had said to trust no one, hammering the point home every chance he got. The last thing Max needed was for Skole to get wind of his whereabouts… The proprietor seemed vindictive enough to send killers all the way out here. In the city at least he was safe, but being trailed by assassins would surely make leveling up that much harder. Eager to move past his slip-up, Max quickly followed up with a question. “Except I’ve never seen any markings of a red player.”
“The ability to see them is a passive unique to my class, of course. I’ve heard of some people having an Affinity for it, but that’s a different matter entirely. Most of the time, though, I just go by the bounties I take up. It’s not my position to make judgments. I’m a professional.”
“Who posts them? The bounties, I mean.”
“Around here? Most of them are posted by Tiann’s magistrate, but other times its a wealthy manorlord. On very rare occasions a regular freeholder requests my services, but I’m not a hired killer. Every now and then, it’s just information someone needs.”
“Information? That sell pretty well too?”
“Depends.” The man smiled. “On the information. But a… dead body usually pays more.”
Max wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that last statement. It hung in the air, heavy and suggestive. Something about the way the man had said it… so nonchalantly, like murder was a trade and its currency was corpses. To him, it was business. It sent a shiver down Max’s spine. When a notification box popped up in front of him, he nearly jumped out of his seat.
Entrails has left the party.
Max felt a pang. In a way, he kind of expected this… but that did nothing to blunt the sting. The man could've said goodbye, at least.
“Something wrong?” asked the bounty hunter, leaning over to get a glimpse.
Hurriedly, Max swiped away the notification. He was saved from having to give a response by Nesto, who suddenly appeared amidst the crowd of patrons, which seemed to be thinning a little. “Pariah my honored guest, where have you been?” he said, his cheeks red and merry. When he saw who Max was sitting with, he squinted as if trying to place the man, but when no recollection came he merely nodded in acknowledgment. “Well wherever you’ve disappeared to, you come back at the right time. Everyone’s heading outside for the show! Out out out!”
Indeed, the gathered patrons all seemed to be slowly migrating outside, either to the second-level balcony or the garden it overlooked below. Kell appeared from the kitchen, rolling a large barrel along the wooden floor and shouting for everyone to move out of the way. Nesto rushed over to help clear the hallway, using his apron to shoo everyone aside. Max followed behind, glad to have an excuse to free himself from the bounty hunter’s company.
Outside, Max helped Nesto and Kell lift the barrel onto a table which had been set up earlier. The garden buzzed with conversation, and every now and then someone pointed up towards the night sky. It was awash with stars and a single, bright moon. Whatever event was about to happen, it seemed everyone—adventurers and craftspeople alike—waited for it eagerly.
“What’s in here?” Max said, referring to the barrel.
“This? The bubbly! You’ll see, it’s tradition.” Nesto held a copper tap in one hand and a stopwatch in the other. “Everyone got their cups? They’ll start falling any minute now…!”
The crowd cheered. At Nesto’s suggestion, dozens of voices began counting down from 60 in broken unison. Standing to the side of the barrel, Kell had a mallet at the ready, aiming it at the bung. Nesto prepared the tap and started counting down with everyone else.
Nine, eight, seven—
On the balcony and throughout the garden, nearly everyone had their faces lifted towards the starlit sky. There was not a cloud in sight. It seemed still as a painting, dotted with a million tiny specks of light.
Six, five, four—
Nesto and Kell stood poised, ready to tap the barrel.
Three, two, one—
At the same moment the gathered crowd cheered “HAPPY METEOR DAAAY,” Kell brought the mallet down upon the edge of the barrel stopper. As soon as it popped free, a stream of bubbling wine spurted out in a stream before Nesto got the tap lined up properly, which stopped the flow.
Max lifted his eyes to the sky, but was confused when nothing happened. Then, hundreds of bright streaks suddenly appeared in the sky, streaming across the night canvas. The sight was dazzling, otherworldly. The meteors made no sound as they streaked by, their long, thin tails dissipating into nothingness. The most intense part of the shower lasted about two minutes, during which the meteors burned so brightly that it almost appeared to be daytime. Afterwards, the frequency died down, but anyone who still watched the sky would’ve seen brief clusters of smaller meteors spark across the darkness.
All those meteors, thought Max. Each contained loot of some kind, gems and rare metals, crafting materials and who knows what else. It was like a treasure hunt, trying to be the first to get to a meteorite’s location in order to mine its bounty before anyone else… but also dangerous. Too dangerous for all these experienced adventurers currently celebrating in the garden of the Magnificent Dog.
What had the bounty hunter said again? That the only true adventurers were the ones who braved the wilderness and other players to seek the stars’ riches? Clearly there were levels to Starsword Online that Max hadn’t yet begun to glean.
He wondered if that’s why Entrails left so suddenly. Max would’ve been lying to say he didn’t feel a little hurt. Though he tried to push it from his mind, he still felt a twinge of betrayal that the warrior hadn’t so much as said goodbye. At the very least, Max would’ve liked to thank him for everything. Without Entrails, Max knew he never would’ve made it out of the Valterre, much less all the way to Tiann.
Still, what did he expect? Though it hurt that their bond of friendship wasn’t as strong as Max hoped, Entrails had his own road to walk and surely didn’t have time to babysit a lowlevel for any longer than he had to. With Max’s new understanding of Meteor Day, well. It made sense. He should feel fortunate that their paths crossed at all.
“You look glum,” said Kell, who was still standing by the barrel of sparkling wine. “It’s Meteor Day. You’re not allowed to look glum, didn’t you know?”
Max rolled his eyes. “It’s nothing. Forget about it.”
“Well, don’t let uncle see you. He’ll think it’s his fault try to suffocate you with more food and drink. Oh!” He pulled something out of his apron pocket. An envelope. “I almost forgot. Someone came by looking for you. A lady…” Kell winked. “Anyways, I couldn’t find you anywhere, and she didn’t seem too keen on sticking around. She left this for you though.”
Max took the parchment, which was folded and sealed with red wax.
Kell’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’ve only been here two days, and already suitresses have come calling. You dog!”
“Stop. It’s not like that. Just an invitation to join the Taskers.” Max put the envelope into his inventory. “Know anything about them?”
“Sure, they get a lot done around the city. Odd jobs, this and that. The City Watch is only so large and they prefer to deal with more important issues… Making sure whatever goes on in the Shingles doesn’t spill out into the rest of the city, for example. Or catching merchants who try to evade paying the proper taxes to the Duchesses coffers. That leaves quite a lot else that needs cleaning up.”
“If I can’t get an apprenticeship anywhere else, I might think about joining.”
“I can think of worse jobs,” said Kell.
“Yeah… So can I.” Alby’s pained face flashed in Max’s memory. He quickly brushed it away.
Nesto, who’d been bouncing through the crowd and handing out cups to whomever still needed one, soon returned. The innkeep still beamed with pride even in the dim moonlight, but when he saw Max, his brows furrowed quizzically. “Something wrong? Did you not like the bubbly? You look down. Doesn’t he look down?” he asked Kell.
“Said the same thing. I figured it was because he missed a lady friend, but apparently that’s not the case. Maybe you can get it out of him,” Kell said, before walking off to mingle.
“What is it? Someone say something to you? Who is it! I’ll toss ‘em out on the street! Wait—don’t tell me it was the food!”
Max shook his head. “No, no… none of those things. It’s just… well, I got a notification a little bit ago. Was in a party with Entrails, but he left. Thing is, he never said anything to me about it.”
“Ah… Entrails.” Nesto nodded slowly, his brows lifted in understanding. “Right. He checked out earlier today, actually. I meant to tell you, but with so much going on… I’m afraid it slipped my mind.”
Max shrugged. Even if Nesto had told him earlier, it wouldn’t have taken out the sting of the warrior’s sudden departure.
“I’ve seen many Dasein come through the doors of my inn, kept tabs of those who showed promise. Entrails? Lad, I’ve known him a long time. Still comes through Tiann every now and then, fills us in with the happenings of the world outside the Magnificent Dog. And let me tell you—that man doesn’t keep friends, much less lowlevels needing protection. Take comfort in that. He must’ve seen something in you, else he never would’ve brought you here. That I know.”
“Still…”
“Listen, has anyone told you about the Old Man’s Beard?”
Max shook his head again.
“Look up. See that?” Nesto pointed towards a spot in the night sky, and when Max followed it he saw a slowly moving comet nearly hidden amongst the countless stars. It had a pale bluish hue.. Looking at the celestial object with its long tail trailing behind, Max understood where its namesake came from. “Every year, it appears about a month before Meteor Day. Always has, for as long as anyone remembers. The earliest peoples thought it was a god, cresting over the sky to view its creation.” Nesto chuckled. “Few still think like that, but nonetheless we like to see it as a good omen. A sign of prosperity, of longevity.”
A meteor traveled by, burning brightly before flaring out.
“Lots of Dasein are just like that meteor there. A burst of light, then nothing. It takes skill and patience to survive, to make it another year like the Old Man’s Beard. It’s not easy to escape the pull of the world. It’s up to you to forge ahead. No matter the cost, no matter the losses, no matter the loneliness. You’re still thinking like Max04428, see? You’re Pariah, now.”
Max nodded slowly. Pariah. He thought about his reason for being here, in Aletheia, in the first place. He thought about his mother, who still lay asleep, her body frozen in stasis, keeping the mass of tumors from growing larger in her body. He was still a long was from having enough to pay for her treatment, but he had far more options now than he’d had in his entire life. Why was he feeling sad? He should be thankful for his good fortune.
“All Dasein come here looking for something, lad. Nobody can help you figure out what that is, and once you do, only you can go get it. Got that?”
He did. No matter the allies, no matter the enemies, he’d find a way. He understood Nesto’s advice. It was time to let the old self die, to leave room for a new star to be born in its place. “Thanks Nesto,” said Max. “Never would’ve guessed you were so… wise?”
“Well, don’t tell anyone.” Nesto winked. “I rather like my jolly innkeep persona! More bubbly?”
Max laughed and held out his cup for a refill, to which Nesto happily obliged. Above them, moving slowly though the celestial sky, the Old Man’s Beard twinkled merrily, it's pale blue eye upon the realm.