“Sit up boy! You look like a darned Deepun.”

Lefty sat up a little straighter but didn’t say anything. He had learned not to interrupt Titus when he was about to launch into one of his rants.

“Nothing lazier in this world than a Deepun, son. Wouldn't know a hard day's work if it slapped em’ right in their moist little faces.”

It had been several days since Lefty and Ol Blu had moved in with the cantankerous old man, and the three of them were currently sharing a meager breakfast of scrambled eggs and stale toast while sitting on the floor of his forge.

Did you know that in deepun lands, it’s actually illegal to work hard? Can you believe that?! They put you in jail if you try to work two days in a row! The blacksmith spat on the ground for emphasis. “State mandated laziness… You know it'd be funny if it wasn't so pathetic. The whole lot of them’s lazy from top to bottom. It's a miracle they lasted this long. I don’t know why the Senate puts up with em.’”

Awkward silence hung in the air for a moment, cut only by the sound of quiet chewing. Lefty never knew what to say in situations like this. As far as he could tell, nothing had prompted the old man's outburst, and even if he understood why Titus was upset, Lefty had nothing to add about the diminutive deepuns. He had seen quite a few of them since arriving in The Capital. They were outnumbered by the humans and thulhans, but they weren’t exactly rare. Every day he’d see a few of them plodding down the street, minding their own business like everyone else. He hadn’t spoken to one yet, but they didn’t seem all that special.

“I don’t know why anyone puts up with them.” Titus continued, “They hate ambition. Think it's dangerous. Well, if not for the ambitions of Scaevolus, they'd still be squatting in the mud! Banging sticks together! It's only thanks to him that they even left the swamps! And how do they repay us? By siding with the dang green skins!”

Lefty took another bite of the stale toast. He longed for the taste of magical bread. Titus always bought such terrible food. At least it wasn’t moldy this time. The old man swore you could eat around it but Ol Blu said otherwise. Not out loud of course, but he certainly thought about it intensely. Lefty could tell. He had become adept at reading the emotions on Ol Blu’s feline face, and he knew when his friend was mentally disagreeing with something. In fact he was making the same face right now.

“Now, I'm not for slavery.” Titus continued, as if he hadn't said enough, “but if any race deserves it, it's them. Maybe a little whipping might get em’ off their arses for once.” he said with a dry chuckle, hoping the image would tickle his guests. Lefty let out a little grunt, more from obligation than actual humor.

Ol Blu opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but instead he just sighed and continued eating. Having seen the horrors of slavery first hand, the kicken did take kindly to that statement. But, given that Titus was currently their only source of food and shelter, he decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut and let the bigot ramble.

“Probably for the best anyway. Not like they'd be useful. Even if you could get em’ up and movin’, they're too darn short! Can't lift a darn thing with their stubby little hands.”

The old blacksmith spat once again, this time only partially because of his disgust with deepuns. A small bit of egg shell glistened on the floor where his saliva had landed.

“Why anyone tolerates them is beyond me. Did you know they don't even have blacksmiths?!”

(sigh)

This went on for quite some time. I won't make you listen to the whole thing like Lefty and Blu had to. Needless to say, Titus wasn’t accurate in his assessment of the deepuns. His view of them contained only a tiny morsel of truth, which the cynical old man exaggerated to the point of absurdity.

Just as one example, there were deepun blacksmiths. They were uncommon to be sure, but that has less to do with the deepun race being lazy, weak, or primitive- as Titus would claim -and more to do with their homeland. It was a swampy marsh. Not many mineral deposits in the swamp. Even if there were, it’s kind of hard to get to them, what with the water everywhere and the seasonal flooding. Looking down on the Deepuns for not having a proud history of metalworking, was like mocking Ash Tab for its lack of a navy.

Plus, whatever the deepuns lacked in iron, they more than made up for in lumber. The lowlands of eastern Att contained a variety of unique trees that grew nowhere else in the world, and deepun carpenters alone had mastered using them. Despite being made of wood, their tools and structures often rivaled metal both in strength and complexity... though you'd never hear Titus admit it.

(sigh) And it’s the same with everything else he said. The old man was so full of half truths that they added up to several complete lies. Poor Lefty didn’t know what to think. He was so eager to learn that he listened to his patron’s ramblings whole heartedly at first… but even he could tell something was amiss.

“If the deepuns are so lazy… how did they build the Drink Tabernacle?” He’d asked Ol Blu one night after Titus had gone to bed.

“They aren’t lazy, lad. We’ve been over this. Titus is full of spit.”

“Yeah I know…” Lefty responded, shifting uncomfortably in his tiny cot “but like… they have that law, where you’re not allowed to work two days in a row. You said that was real.”

“Aye... it is… but that doesn’t make them lazy.” Ol Blu replied.

“Okay okay they aren’t lazy but… they do have a lot of days off… right? How do the deepuns get anything done if nobody’s working half the time?”

Ol Blu’s ears twitched. Sometimes he forgot just how ignorant Lefty was.

“They work in shifts, lad. Each individual works four days a week, but someone is always working.”

Lefty tilted his head. “Even at night?”

Blu rolled his eye. “No, not at night smart arse. What I meant was, every day, while half the deepuns are resting, the other half are working. Then the next day they trade off. It’s not like here in The Capital where most people have the weekend off. The Deepuns don’t have weekends. They don’t need them because they only work half the week anyway.”

“Huh.” Lefty said, looking up at his forehead as he attempted some mental math. “So… work gets done every day… even on the weekends… but also everyone has more free time.”

Ol Blu nodded.

“Huh. That sounds… better?”

The deepuns certainly think so.” Said Ol Blu.

So then why don’t we do that?” Lefty asked.

“Well in order for a schedule like that work lad, everyone would have to cooperate. The whole capital would have to work together towards common goals.”

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“Ah, and The Capital has all those lazy beggars who don’t want to work.” Lefty said, nodding as he remembered another one of Titus’s “lessons”.

Ol Blu sighed. Another half truth. One he didn’t have the patience to correct right now. For the time being he simply said “Yes lad the beggars are a problem… but so are the nobles. Most of them don’t put in a day’s work either.”

“Oh?” Said Lefty, curious despite the sleepiness creeping into his voice. So the deepuns don’t have nobles then?”

“Not anymore.” Said Ol Blu. “And they don’t have beggars either. Strange how that works.”

“Very strange” replied Lefty with a yawn, as he turned over in his cot to try and sleep. It’s a pity we didn’t get to continue this conversation. I don’t think he really understood the connection I was making. But I digress.

The only reason I mention any of this talk of deepuns is because the next stop on Lefty's journey was located in the heart of the deepun homeland. Specifically they were headed to The Master Dam, a massive structure which had once served as capital of the Deepun Union, back when they were still an independent territory. The deepuns didn’t have cities you see. At least not in the traditional sense. Instead their population was centralized into these massive dams, each of which housed thousands of citizens.

The Master Dam, in addition to being the largest of these structures, was also the closest to The Drink Tabernacle, which was Lefty and Blu’s true destination.The massive monument had been built in the middle of Lake Allende; the largest body of freshwater in all of Att. And when I say “in the lake” I do mean inside the lake. The tabernacle was mostly underwater, designed so that it would always be surrounded by that most primal of beverages.

It was not an easy place to reach, and Lefty would not be able to simply camp inside it, as he had at the Food Tabernacle. Instead he and Blu would need a base of operations, which meant living among the deepuns.

Which was honestly not a big deal. In truth the Master Damn was no more hostile to visitors than The Capital was. Citizens of Att were free to come and go as they pleased. But to Titus they might as well have been walking into a war zone. The ignorant blacksmith assumed that deepuns hated humans as much as he hated deepuns, and fully expected Lefty to be shunned by them at best. Which is why he insisted that they spend four weeks preparing for the worst case scenario; living off the land in hostile territory.

For Titus himself, this meant crafting weapons and armor. The blacksmith spent much of his time creating a set of masterwork plate armor for Lefty; certain that the young man would need protection from murderous deepuns. And though the old fart was ignorant when it came to cultures that weren’t his own, I can’t deny that he knew how to work a forge. The shining suit of iron he wrought was an impressive feat of engineering. Sturdy metal covered Lefty from head to toe, without being cumbersome. Lefty reported that it was surprisingly comfortable and lightweight for its size. Built to his exact proportions, with tiny jointed segments which allowed him full mobility without sacrificing protection.

It's a pity Lefty would never fight in it… but it certainly looked fancy.

As for weapons, Titus took inspiration from the feathers Lefty had brought with him, and created a pair of blades in their image; two curved short swords with serrated edges and an intricate feather design on either side. Just as he had with the armor, the smith proved his mastery over metal. The blades looked just as dynamic as the actual feathers, while maintaining a reasonable size and balance, allowing them to be used just like traditional swords.

Lefty hated them.

It's not that he didn't appreciate the effort, it's just that everything about the new swords seemed inferior to the actual feathers. Not only were they smaller in size and less shiny, but they felt... weird. You see, he had been swinging around the metallic feathers in private ever since he had obtained them, and had grown used to the way they felt in his hands. To someone like him, without any formal sword training, things like weight and balance didn't really matter. He was accustomed to the original, and like most people, he wasn’t fond of change.

Also… these new swords lacked the aerodynamic qualities that the actual feathers possessed. This was to be expected of course, Titus knew nothing about flight and made no attempt to emulate the feather's contours. He sought only to make effective blades that cut as cleanly as possible. So when Lefty asked if the swords would let him fly any better… the old man laughed out loud, not realizing that his client's question was a serious one.

To Lefty, the feather's ability to “fly” was their best quality. After all, it had literally saved his life when he jumped from the top of the Food Tabernacle. If these new swords couldn't do that… then they were useless to him. He didn't tell Titus this out loud of course. Neither he nor Blu wanted to say anything to displease their host. But unlike the armor, Titus's finely crafted swords wouldn't even leave The Capital. Lefty would “accidentally” leave them behind when he finally embarked.

Strangely, of all the shiny new equipment that Lefty obtained during this time, the only thing that would prove to be useful in the long term, was his pointlight. Titus had purchased one from Sgllg'Throk, The Capital's premier sleep mage. Well, actually, the meister themselves didn't personally make it, but it did come from their dreamery... kind of.

Ever the cheapskate, Titus had purchased a defective product at a discounted price. The thing still worked perfectly fine from a practical sense, casting a beam of light just as bright and clear as any normal pointlight. Its defect was an inconvenient shape. Instead of a straight tube that cast light from one end, the thing was shaped like a horseshoe, with light emitting from both ends. In addition, this model had no switch or button. The pointlights were always on, which even under regular circumstances made them less desirable. Aside from the obvious annoyance of a light that could never be turned off, these tended to burn out after only a couple of years; and considering this was technically two lights, its lifespan was effectively halved.

Such unwieldy and unreliable products were supposed to be destroyed, so as not to diminish the reputation of the dreamery, but the mage who made them was so desperate for money that they sold them to Titus for cheap, on the condition that he didn’t tell anyone where he got it from. Of course the fact that I’m telling you the origin now means Titus didn’t keep his word… but that should hardly be surprising at this point.

Regardless of their cheapness, Lefty was overjoyed to have the pointlights. He still very much wanted to be a sleep mage. He had continued to work his way through the books that Shelia had given him back in Opprobirum, but with zero results. He hadn't had a dream since arriving in The Capital, and was becoming a bit disheartened by a complete lack of progress. A chance to hold an actual product of sleep magic in his hands, even if it was a misshapen accident, had swept aside his worries though, and reignited his interest in dreaming.

Lefty would receive many other pieces of equipment for his journey, but none of it would prove quite as important as the pointlight. Most of it was just basic adventuring gear: rope, flint, a tent; stuff like that. These would all be necessities on this trip, since he and Ol Blu would be making the trek alone this time, without the relative luxury of a trade caravan's wagons. They’d be given a squirrel to ride upon and a bit of food to sustain them, but they would have to make camp along the road and forage for food. Because of this Lefty would spend most of his four weeks in survival training.

Christa and Cornelius were a gruff but kind old couple, who lived on a tiny plot of land just outside The Captial's massive walls. Titus knew the couple from his youth, and had paid them a small fee to teach Lefty some basic survival skills. The young man would learn many things from the old soldier and his wife; how to pitch a tent, how to start a fire, how to ride a squirrel, how to locate food and water in the wild, and even some basic combat skills. Lefty learned all of this with the same zeal he learned everything else, and quickly became decent at living off the land. He spent several nights practicing for what was to come, camping in the barely wooded grasslands just beyond The Capital's plantations. Though it was somewhat rough, he found that he enjoyed sleeping under the stars. At least, he enjoyed it far more than sleeping in the tiny crawl space that Titus had provided him with back in the city.

When four weeks was up, and Lefty finally embarked from The Capital with Ol Blu on his shoulder, he was a transformed man. He had entered the city on his feet, with nothing but his old Ash-Tabian clothes and a nearly empty pack on his back. He had no skills, knew no one save for Ol Blu, and had only the vaguest idea of what his future held. Now he was a man on a mission. He rode out of the city on a large gray squirrel, clad in a shiny set of armor like some great warrior off to war. His old rucksack was gone, replaced with a newer and larger one which was filled to bursting with supplies and equipment. Titus, Cornelius, and Christa saw him off, giving the two fingered salute of Scaevolus as he rode into the distance. They had not been the kindest people, but they had helped him nonetheless. In a way they were first of his supporters… but certainly not the last. He had learned much in a short time, had acquired the skills he would need to survive, and finally knew, or at least thought he knew, exactly what kinds of challenges lay ahead of him.

It was official: he was an adventurer now, on a quest to obtain the nine Clavis Imperium. And even though his armor would never see combat, most of his supplies would go unused, and he'd never again have a pleasant conversation with any of the three who had helped him, that moment was still glorious.