Drew looked down at the field. It had once been a sports field. Lacrosse and soccer. In his high school days, he’d played a lot of games on that field. Living in Strafford, he’d gone to high school at Coe Brown. He knew the school and the fields well. Never a star athlete, he’d been decent enough to play a lot.
Now it was all farmland filled with growing crops and busy farmers. A couple of the people that had come from Strafford with him were down there. Some had become guards, along with the small amount of adventurers with him, but most had chosen crafting Classes. They’d found jobs as farmers, loggers and carpenters, helping build the new shelters. He could hear the hammering and sawing, manual as nothing electric still worked, behind him in what had used to be the parking lot.
Large barracks buildings. He’d heard they were meant to house most of the single people in the Clan with a couple rooms for families. The school was at its limits, with more people arriving almost everyday.
Drew didn’t even know where all these people were coming from. They were all armed with weapons taken from monsters, or makeshift weapons like baseball bats. They came with just what they could carry. All looked tired, beaten, but their eyes held hope as they saw the school and the growing Clan.
All of them had fought and killed monsters by this point. Some even had Classes.
Each new addition grew the Clan.
But it also created more problems.
Food, housing, training.
All of it was pushing the Clan to the limits.
But even with the issues, Drew was glad he’d led his survivors here. He just wished that all of the Strafford Camp had been able to come. It would have pushed the Clan beyond the limits of what they could do and house, but it would have been better for both groups.
His eyes flowed past the fields toward the woods, where Lochlan had left only a couple hours earlier. Drew wished they had arrived in time to join Loch and his team, including Elora. He sighed. Even if they had made it, there’s no way they could have gone.
His team was exhausted. They were all wounded in one way or another, nothing major but minor wounds added up over time. He needed to recruit a Healer Class as they had none currently.
They were in no shape to follow Loch.
As much as he wanted to.
It wasn’t just because Elora was out there. Drew felt a need to stand by Loch, to help protect the Clan. He’d heard about what they were hunting out in the woods. Wendigos. Monsters that threatened the people of the Clan.
Drew didn’t enjoy fighting but he knew it was needed, so he did it. He’d never been the most responsible person, not until the Connection and it had been forced on him. But he felt he was rising to the challenge. Someone his parents would have been proud of.
It was a responsibility he took seriously.
He’d benefited from running the Challenge Dungeon. Had almost died a couple of times. The last few fights had been brutal. He’d managed to get to Level Fifteen by the end, and gained a couple pieces of armor and a new weapon. The collapsible baton had been a good weapon, but the new one was amazing. It’d even come with a sheath. A plain thing, no runes or jewels, the craftsmanship decent but with wear and tear from use and age. At least it appeared to be old. From what Drew had been told, the weapon and sheath had been created by the Dungeoncore specifically for him during the dungeon run.
He didn’t fully understand how that was possible. It was a hard concept to get around.
The leather sheath was wrapped around his leg, holding the weapon.
SHATTERER’S TRUNCHEON
SOULBOUND
WEAPON LEVEL TWO
ATTACK +2%, +1% EVERY FIVE WEAPON LEVELS. TRUNCHEON CAUSES BASHING DAMAGE. -2% TO TARGET’S BASHING DAMAGE RESISTANCE, -1% EVERY FIVE WEAPON LEVELS. ON IMPACT TO TARGET, HAS 25% CHANCE TO ACTIVATE SHATTER ABILITY. SHATTER CAUSES ARMOR TO WEAKEN AND BREAK. STRONGER ARMOR CAN WITHSTAND THE ABILITY BUT DAMAGE WILL BE TRANSFERRED THROUGH THE ARMOR AND INTO THE WEARER. IF TARGET IS UNARMORED, SHATTER DOES +2% MORE BASHING DAMAGE. +1% ACTIVATION CHANCE EVERY FIVE WEAPON LEVELS.
The weapon looked more like a dull sword than a baton. It was a foot and a half long, leather wrapped around the handle at the bottom, a thin looped cord off the end to run his wrist through. At the top of the leather was a piece of the metal that curved upwards a couple of inches. Drew didn’t know what to call it, but he’d been giving the innate knowledge of how to use it when he’d first claimed the truncheon. It was meant for him to catch and trap swords, twisting the truncheon would give him a chance to disarm the attacker. The actual baton was only a half inch thick and four sided. It didn’t look like it could cause a lot of damage, but Drew had already used it a lot. The weapon was strong and hitting anything with it caused a lot of pain and damage.
He didn’t know what the weapon was made of. Some kind of dull gray metal with a greenish tint. At first he’d been worried it would snap, the baton end being so thin. But it held, impressively so. The metal was light, less weight than the wooden one that had been Drew’s first. He could swing it with speed and force.
Drew still kept the old one in his new Spatial Bag, another reward from the Dungeon. They’d gotten two. The others had insisted he take one, the other had been put in a normal backpack, no one infusing it with Spirit to claim it. That one would go to who Loch decided should have it. Hopefully one of the scavengers.
Davis’ team had also gotten two from the Dungeon. They had compared notes, each team making out pretty good with rewards. Neither thought the new Spatial Bags were as big as what Piper had gotten, but they still held a lot. Drew felt a little guilty about having the bag, since Davis had refused to take one. It meant the Clan now had three to give out. It would have been four if Drew had just resisted a little more.
He sighed again. It was too late. He needed to get a sheath made for his older baton. He liked using two and hoped to find a magical one like the Shatterer’s Truncheon in his next Dungeon run. But first he felt like he needed to give back to the Clan.
Since the Gaunt threat had been eliminated, a scavenging team had been making regular runs from the hardware store. They were picking it clean of everything that Loch had been forced to leave behind. He had taken a lot, but there was still more to grab. It was just two days to the hardware store, Drew figured he could make the run solo and let his team rest. With his new bag of holding, he could hopefully clear out the store in one trip.
Maybe two.
“Tempted to go chasing after them,” Davis asked, coming to stand next to Drew.
“Aren’t you?,” Drew replied, not looking at the younger man.
He liked Davis well enough, not really knowing him, but for a sixteen year old Davis had a good head. Drew wasn’t sure about the father. Peter Millman might be holding Davis back. After Drew and his team had finished the Challenge Dungeon, they’d met Davis and his group outside the entrance. They’d finished up with the Hobs and were ready for their shot at the Chesley Cemetery Dungeon.
Drew and the others had headed back to the Clanhold, not bothering with the Hob mound. Without a quest, there was no reason to go as the Hobs were too low leveled. They might have been able to get some materials, but when asked the others had agreed. It was time to head home.
“Yeah,” Davis answered. “Probably same reasons as you.”
Drew nodded, thinking that Davis had another reason. Harper Brady. He thought of Elora Seedspear. She was out with Lochlan. Did Drew want to go out and join the Clanchief to help or to be with Elora?
“Wouldn’t make sense to,” Davis continued. “They’re too far ahead and there’s no tracker left in the Clanhold that could follow them. The woods were huge before the Connection, now it’s…,” he gestured with his hands, waving at the woods beyond the fields.
Now it was larger and far more dangerous.
“Which is why I’m not out there,” Drew said, turning away from the woods. He faced west, not able to see the road past the rapidly growing wall. “And I’m going that way,” he pointed down the road. “There’s still some stuff can grab at the hardware store and maybe take some time to look at what’s further west.”
“Want some company?”
Drew looked back at Davis, then glanced up at the school. He couldn’t see the teen’s father, but knew Peter was there somewhere. He turned back to Davis.
“Your father good with you going back out again?”
Davis stiffened, his face hardening. Drew hadn’t liked throwing that out there, but knew he had to. He almost laughed. When had he become so responsible?
“Doesn’t matter,” Davis said, voice flat. He looked up at the school. “He doesn’t understand.”
“Didn’t he almost die?,” Drew asked.
He’d heard the story in passing, not the full details, but the elder Millman had been more daring before almost being killed. He’d taken his son and volunteered to scout out the grocery store miles away, not knowing what they’d face, but doing it because it was needed. But then the Phoenix attack had happened, so close to the relative safety of the group’s original camp. If there hadn’t been magical healers, Peter Millman would have died.
After that, the two Millman’s took opposite paths. Davis followed that of Lochlan Brady, and Harper Brady. Accepting responsibility for protecting the rest of the Clan, becoming an Adventurer and choosing to fight and risk his life every day. The elder Millman withdrew. He was no longer as daring. He wanted to stay safe. He wanted his son to stay safe. If that meant cowering in the clanhold, letting others do the fighting, it seemed Peter Millman was fine with that.
Davis was not.
It was driving a wedge between father and son.
Drew could see the warring emotions flash across Davis’ face. It finally settled on defiance.
“Yeah, but so has almost everyone,” he finally said.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“Going to need to have a talk with him at some point,” Drew said.
“After this run,” Davis replied, walking past Drew, heading for the gap in the wall.
“You may not like his choices, but at least he’s still around,” Drew said. “Not many people here can say that.”
Davis stopped, lowering his head. He sighed, glancing up at the school. Drew felt bad. He liked Davis and understood why the teen was making his choice. It was the same one that Drew had made. He probably shouldn’t have said it. Was it really his place to get in the middle of the father and son? Drew thought about his own parents. He had no idea what had happened to them. Most likely they were dead. It wasn’t something he’d allowed himself to really think about. He’d accepted it, hadn’t really had a choice, but he tried not to think about them.
Davis was lucky. The teen knew it.
“After this run,” Davis said again. “Let’s go.”
Drew shook his head, doubting Davis would follow through.
***
“You were a banker, correct,” Kristin asked, looking at the man across from her.
Older, gray hair and beard. Handsome in that older distinguished gentleman way. She could tell that he was trying to keep his hair and beard neatly trimmed but was failing. It was ragged looking. The man also looked ragged. Tired and depressed. She remembered Lochlan mentioning this man and his friend.
The two were in a small room off the lobby, just down the hallway. Kristin had converted it into a small meeting room, taking one of the tables that had been used on the wall in the gaunt’s attack, along with a couple of chairs. She was avoiding looking at the dark red stains covering the table.
It was tight, the table taking up most of the room with just enough space to get around it. The chairs were uncomfortable, but it served its purpose. She needed a more private place to conduct the Clan’s business, away from the offices. Others were using it for the various committees that were starting up, along with what were now being called Guilds for the various crafting professions that were starting to crop up. They were still lacking blacksmiths and leathersmiths, but there were plenty of farmers and lumberjacks.
Even if most of those were people that had never wanted to do it but now had no choice.
Ben Border nodded at her question.
“Yes ma’am. Fifty years.”
Kristin had one of her notebooks open, the others in a satchel sitting on the table. It had been an old messenger bag, with one of the nearby colleges stitched across the side. Kristin didn’t know what house it had come from, she didn’t want to know. It wasn’t a new one but it did what she needed it to do. She never went anywhere without the books. They were too valuable. Mostly to her. The information contained in each wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. It was her shorthand, made possible by her Class. But she just felt more comfortable with them. And a couple were messenger books, twins with ones in the possession of others. Write in one and it would show up in the other. She had a half dozen of those, none of them labeled, all looking the same, but she knew who each was connected to.
Her finger ran down the page, stopping at an entry.
“You’ve been helping out with the farming?”
“Yes. At first it was at the wall, but now I’m helping with the crops.”
“Do you like it?,” She asked, not looking up.
“I’m just happy to contribute to the Clan.”
Kristin looked up at the older man. She didn’t believe him. It was a safe answer, one that hinted at his true feelings but wouldn’t offend one of the Clan’s leaders. Kristin knew her position made it difficult to get straight answers. She was one of the top five most important people in Clan Brady, maybe even top three after Lochlan and Ed Turner. With the way life was currently in the Clan, people were extremely hesitant to offend one of the leaders.
“I asked if you liked it,” she said, her tone and glare telling the man she wanted the real answer.
Ben started to speak, saw her eyes tightening, and sighed.
“No, not at all,” he said. “For a number of reasons. Mostly that I’m old. Even with this new Awakened body, I’m still old. And the other main reason is that I’m a banker, not a farmer. I really don’t want to get a Farming or Harvesting Class when I hit Level Five.”
Kristin didn’t show any surprise at the man’s low Level. She had already known, still finding it hard to believe that anyone that wasn’t below the age of sixteen hadn’t reached Level Five after all this time. She was Level Nine and with a Support Class, she knew she was doing pretty well with Advancing. How someone could still be below Level Five was hard to believe, but she knew there were a lot like that in the Clan.
So many people still had not found their purpose through their Class. They were depressed, going through the motions and doing anything that kept them busy. They hated every minute of life in the Connected System. There had been some suicides over the last couple weeks, people just not able to handle their new lives anymore.
There had been a couple of suspicious ones, people that had looked like they’d adjusted well and were starting to thrive in their new lives.
“The Clan needs the help and I need to do something so I can get my rations,” Ben said. He raised a hand to stop Kristin from commenting, which she found funny as she hadn’t planned on it. “I understand that requirement. To get from the Clan, you have to give to the Clan in some way. It makes sense and is a necessity. I know there are some that chaff under the requirement, but I don’t. I should have to contribute to be given anything. And honestly, from similar systems I’d read about, Clan Brady is a good one. So in that regard, I’m happy to be doing something to contribute unlike..,” he stopped himself but Kristin had an idea what he’d been about to say.
Unlike some, like his friend Simu Chang. Simu was helping out, just like Ben, but was constantly complaining and moaning. He took every chance he could to say that he was a banker, a businessman, and should not be forced into hard labor. But Simu had no problem eating the Clan’s resources. Ben sighed. “I just don’t want to be a farmer.”
“Good,” Kristin said, softening her glare and smiling. “You won’t have to be.”
Ben looked confused.
Kristin reached down to the ground, lifting a small bag. Like hers, this one also had a college logo printed across it. Dark blue, it was made of nylon with rope straps. Kristin had never liked the style, with the straps making it look like it should be a backpack but there not being enough length for anyone to actually wear it comfortably as one. The rope straps were thin and would have cut into the shoulders. They were only good for pulling the top of the bag closed.
Setting it on the table, the contents of the bag made clinking noises as they settled. Ben leaned forward, recognizing the sound. Opening the bag, Kristin poured some of the contents onto the surface of the table.
Ben’s eyes widened as the coins spread out. A little bigger than quarters, they were thin and made of a material that Kristin had never seen before. Odd colors too. White, blue, red, green and gray. Ben reached out but stopped, his hand hovering above one of the coins. He looked a question as Kristin.
“Go ahead.”
He picked up a green coin, running his thumb along the edge. He turned it around, running a finger over the etchings on the surface. He didn’t look greedy, but more fascinated.
“These are the currency used by the Connected System,” Kristin explained. “It’s accepted on any Connected World and the value is the same across all the worlds.”
“That makes it easier,” Ben said, putting down the green one and picking up a gray. “A single exchange rate across such diverse worlds is really genius. Part of our world’s problems had been that each country used its own system and always had to work out what the exchange rate was between them. Even with it all being based around the gold standard, there was just so much variance. This is a much simpler system.” He leaned back, still holding the gray coin and examining it. “Which makes sense when people can cross from world to world through portals.” He shook his head, whispering. “I still have a hard time believing that.” He looked at the gray coin oddly, picking up a green with his other hand. “These both have the same physical weight, they’re the same size, but this gray one just seems heavier. It’s weird.”
“That’s because that gray is worth more,” Kristin said. “It’s meant to represent the Spirit of the world so would have more Spiritual weight.” She pointed at each type of coin. “White is Air. Blue is water. It takes ten Air to equal one Water. Red is fire and is worth Twenty-five Blue. Green is the Earth. It takes Twenty-five Fire to equal one Earth coin. Gray is Spirit and is worth one hundred green coins.”
Ben put the green and gray down, picking up a white and blue.
“Where do they come from?”
“Dungeons,” Kristin answered. “They are found as loot. We’ve been collecting any that have dropped and have started to amass a decent amount.” She picked up a gray coin, turning it around, studying it. “Probably nothing compared to what more established Clans in the Connection have but it’s a start.” She put the coin back on the table. “We keep getting more as more and more Dungeons are run. I’m still working out the rough numbers on how much gets dropped per run but interesting enough it appears that this is a case where Lord Lochlan’s higher Level works against him.”
“How so?”
“Loch outlevels the Dungeons we’ve found so far and it’s by a lot. That limits how much Experience he can get from them but it also limits the amount of rewards. We’ve seen that groups closer to the Level of the Dungeon have been reporting more loot drops in the form of Resources and these coins.”
“Is that bag all that the Clan has?”
“No,” Kristin said, not elaborating.
“I think I understand why I’m here,” Ben said. “You want me to start a bank?”
“Yes,” Kristin said. “And no.”
Ben looked at her in confusion.
“Yes eventually,” Kristin continued. “But not right now. There simply isn’t enough of the coin and not enough people that can actively get it.”
Ben leaned back, still playing with one of the coins, flipping it between his fingers.
“I understand. As we still operate on a kind of barter system, and will for some time, it doesn’t make sense to use the coins. But at some point we will. It’ll be rough at first as only the Adventurers will have them, and they’ll in turn funnel them to the Crafters through purchases, who will in turn funnel them to others until everyone has some and is using them in all directions.”
“Yes. We’d also like you to start helping us establish baseline pricing and regulation of pricing.”
“Smart to have all the systems in place before start using them,” Ben said. “I can do that.”
He stopped playing with the coin, setting it back on the table. Leaning slightly back, he sighed, looking at Kristin.
“It won’t be a full time job,” he admitted. “At least not yet. When we establish a bank, it will be, but right now it’s all conceptual and planning and that won’t be eight hours a day.”
Kristin nodded.
“Thank you for admitting that,” she said with a smile. “And yes, we don’t expect it to. But we’ll inform those in charge of work details that your hours will be limited but will still get full rations.”
Ben smiled back. He stood up, holding out a hand, that Kristin rose and shook. The man bore a huge smile, standing straight, a bounce to his step, as he walked out.
His whole demeanor had changed. Kristin had noted the depression when he had first walked in. He’d been forced to be a laborer and hated every minute of it. Every survivor on Earth had a worse life than before. It was full of danger, hunger, risks and just struggling to survive. Even Lochlan, for all his power, would say that before The Connection, life had been better. For people like Ben, those that couldn’t follow a path that was similar to their old life, this new reality was torture.
They had no direction, no drive.
But now Ben had one. He had a real direction that resonated with his prior life.
Just having that drive, something to focus on, had changed his entire demeanor. In just a few minutes, his life had changed for the better.
Kristin looked at the next name on her list.
It was time to see if she could do the same for more people in the Clan.