To what end does the system grant us boons influence our development as an independent society? Does it guide us into the decisions that lead to the best results or is it a crutch holding man’s development back.

If the Helrothrun saints are to be believed, then it is the gods who control the system, and are not too beholden by it as is commonly accepted since the Gront affair. If the gods control the system, then they provide the limitations to humanity, they guide our development from greatness to mediocrity through a simple reward mechanism. Fascinating, isn’t it, give an animal some rewards and you completely alter its behavior, this might even apply to us as sapients. To say we are not animals would be a gross misdeed to all of academia. But perhaps this reward mechanism is simply a management tool, without the draw to be rewarded through slaying foul beasts, such foul beasts would overrun the world without competition as the more intelligent would hide.

More worrying would be the case of gods as we know them not being in control. If they are in no more control as we are over the weather(wizardry aside). If so, what perchance led to the creation of the system and its prevalence and motive? Several studies have taken place over the exact motives of its rewards, but all were met with varying results as if it knew it was being tested and thus ruined the validity of the experiments. This implies either an entity or system sentience in regard to the answer if the gods are not in control.

To study the system is to study the undiscernible. You can never understand it completely, you may think you do, but by nature of our birth we are already influenced by it. It is a fruitless endeavor for the masochistic, anything other than basic studies for advancement are complete wastes of time. Do heed this warning, I have wasted my life on it.

--Lecture excerpt by Hanter the Dimm concerning Magical Phenomena, School of Divination, The University. 3098 SI

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I shifted uncomfortably on the cot Yorem gave me, the pesky sunbeams peeking through the window informed me that I had wasted the night away with little sleep. A city's sounds varied too much from what I had grown up in. There were no shifting leaves in the breeze, bugs and animals skittering about making their sounds. The sounds of a city were the shouts of men, creaking of wood, the patter of footsteps, the occasional clatter. I couldn't shake the feeling of being constantly on edge, it was humorous to think about. Here, where I was likely the safest I had been in my entire life, my body felt unsafe, where sleeping in monster filled woods would put me at ease.

I grunted as I got up, shaking off the last vestiges of fatigue as I stretched in cluttered domicile. The room was much too small for someone of my size, not that such was surprising considering I was in a dwarf’s home. Various mechanical bits and pieces were strewn haphazardly around the oddly sized furniture, making it difficult to move without bumping into something. I paused after a moment, hearing some slight creaking of the floorboards above me.

I rested my hand on my knife as the movements upstairs became somewhat louder. Finally, a rather hungover dwarf with a broken arm walked down the stairs. He was shorter than his brother, and not as stocky, he seemed quicker, lighter on his feet, and lacked the messy beard in favor of short hair. He gave me a tired look and continued to the kitchen before stopping and giving me a wide-eyed look as if I was some thief who had broken into his home. In retrospect, that indeed seemed to be the case.

I nodded politely at him before hesitantly speaking, "Have any food?" As always, it sounded hopelessly boorish and accented.

He paused and considered the pile of my belongings at my feet, trying to place why exactly I was in his house at the crack of dawn if not for a nefarious reason. He eyed how my hand was ready on my knife for a moment before flicking his gaze to my face.

Finally finishing his consideration of me, he sighed and muttered. "I fecking told my brother to stop taking in strays. 'But Kydok where else would they stay,’ “he mimed the deeper huskier accent of his brother while making a face.

I was lightly offended to be thought so little of but took care not to ruin the first impression I would give with it. "Not stray, guard." I replied towards him, pointing at my weapons neatly placed within reach.

"Like fuck you are mate, you look young enough I probably diddled your mum."

I stood up, easily towering over him with a grim expression. I briefly wondered why the ceilings were so tall when the residents were so short. No matter, I jabbed him with a finger in the chest. "Have you kill?" I asked him, fully aware he didn't have that look about him. It was a dumb question to ask, but I wanted to put on a show for the audience.

He shook his head before his eyes snapped to the staircase where an amused Yorem was watching. "You really hire this one?" He asked with mild frustration.

Yorem let out a laugh. "God dammit Jan, you almost had him shitting his pants!" He finished walking down the stairs and gave his brother a lighthearted smack on the back of his head.

"Kydok, this fella right here was kind enough to hire your sorry ass to help him with common and to get him used to... uh, normal city life as a guide." Yorem finished with a mocking smile as he mimed a broken arm.

Kydok collected himself before extending his right arm. "Pleasure to meet you Jan, sorry about earlier. I've been a bit grumpy about not being able to do anything without my arm."

"Aye, little frustrated his lefty isn't as dexterous." Yorem spoke while raising an eyebrow.

Kydok glared at his brother for a moment, "Still beats trying to fuck the gear wins"

There was a pause, an unperceivable shift in the air snapped into place, locking tension between the two figures. The two stared at each other a moment before hurling themselves into a friendly one-sided wrestling bout.

After Yorem finished turning Kydok into a pretzel, he stood up and made his way to the kitchen but paused in the doorway. "I'll be making food, might take a wee bit though."

Yorem gave a grin to the groaning lump on the floor, "Careful now Kydok, he eats small men for breakfast, his words, not mine."

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We began the morning with full stomachs and crisp air. The clouds in the distance told me we would have till noon to tour the city, but I didn't mind, it was rather exciting. We passed through various bits of the city, specifically the smith works and Tally's market, before finding a wiry storyteller with an enamored audience of dirty children. Kydok motioned for us to leave, but I firmly grabbed his arm and held him in place. Good storytellers were rare, I had met only one in all my life, and was interested in what this one had to say.

We kept our distance, but the storytellers twinkling eyes told me he knew we were there. He was a masterful showman, he clasped his hands together before opening them to reveal a shiny deck of cards, each disappearing from view behind his clever hands as he ruffled a child’s hair and pulled a card from it with a false frown.

"You know the rules, what do we listen to today?" He spoke with an easy smile.

One small boy spoke up above the other calling voices, "Travens lay, Travens lay!"

The others considered this suggestion before joining in his call. The storyteller smiled again with warmth, before hushing his small crowd and clearing his throat.

"Been a while since you've heard Travens Lay little ones, hrmmm."

"Where to begin, where to begin." He tutted softly as his audience remained quiet.

Finally, he grinned and nodded, the wistful expression on his face gave way to a playful smile. The way he smoothly manipulated the language of his face and body was fascinating.

"Estufar is where it all began, one man with devilish luck. Now, he escaped the hill trolls pots not two morn ago as you may remember, and was in desperate need of good company. But where does a man go within the wilds when he needs his fellows. Well, you go to the Travelers Haven. Where the roads by land and sea meet, the best place to rest your weary feet, there you find the Travellers Haven, Traven. With nothing but his wits and his bag of various oddities-"

Kydok punched me in the arm. "Do you want to get rained on you giant prick? You a little tot who wants to listen to mum's bedtime stories?" His disgruntled expression surprised me somewhat, but I sighed and nodded.

"Fine, where go?"

"Where to dumbass," Kydok replied. "I'm a little peckish, so maybe to a certain market I know of." He winked at me, lording the fact that he was my meal ticket.

He took me around to Tally's market yet again, a confusing jungle within the city. Imagine a large square made of patchwork colorful tents, a maze of sellers and buyers thronging the main paths. Then, whatever size you first expected it, double it, and add height to it, with some second floored areas existing built on stilts and wooden platforms large enough to be considered streets in their own right. The complexity was rather mind numbing. As we walked the streets of the market a second time, the crowds parted over my large figure, it was always embarrassing to be treated like some thug who might snap.

He made his way towards a rather drab grey tent hidden amongst others before nodding at the furniture seller within. Some urgent hand gestures on Kydoks part made the man pause and nod with a carefully neutral expression. The furniture seller grabbed a peculiar lantern from behind his desk and handed it to Kydok. Stooping on the ground, he grunted and lifted the carpet to reveal a metal grate. He gave me an expectant look for a moment before I shrugged and heaved it off. It fell to the cobblestone floor with a clatter and the furniture seller gave me a pained look as if telling me that I shouldn’t make too much noise nor put it there. I heaved it off the floor again before giving him a questioning look in return. The man spoke in a rough language as if expecting me to understand.

"Qwar rok an caep tu, irk sfar." He spoke with the same odd accent I suspected came from the tongue of the dwarves. Yet this man was no dwarf, his tanned skin and wiry frame did however tell me he was a foreigner to the imperial lands, or rather just from a different province.

Kydok snapped his head up before turning to me, "Just hold it for now and put it back where it was once you're inside." With that he walked down the stairs with confidence, leaving me to follow by lifting the heavy grate back into place.

Kydok, once you got past his general grumpy exterior was a wonderful guide for the most part. When one first visits a city, sure, you look with your eyes, you make general notes such as routes, but only a city dweller truly knows the city and its hidden intricacies. For Traven, it was its famous massive black market. Traven being a port city was a smugglers haven if you knew where to look, its ample room and hidden safe spaces made the black-market location a no brainer. Kydok, being the shifty dwarf he was decided that if he had a bodyguard, he could try going into the black market again, his arm be damned. As someone already overwhelmed by a city environment, it was a little much for me.

The beginning of the trip was a journey through the unused sewers to the underground location. Why the hidden entrance I had no clue, but there clearly was some method of navigation at play from the markings on the wall. The damp musty smell was utterly fearsome, I barely controlled my gag reflex and was tempted to slaughter all the rats I saw. Dear god, the mice I had seen predators hunt must have been runt sized compared to these. Kydok navigated the maze of tunnels taking us off the directed path, illustrating a distinct knowledge of this aspect of the city. The odd lantern in his hand didn't flicker like a flame, it even felt cold to the touch, some minor magic involved in its construction seemed likely, yet my attention did not stray to it out of my jobs responsibility.

Eventually we turned down a hall in which two dangerous looking guards were positioned by an out of place door. They were dressed like warriors built for speed, light armor, with masks to conceal their faces but not mouths as to not obstruct breathing. At their hips hung slender wicked looking blades coated in a sinister looking residue and spears rested against the wall. Kydok smiled at them cheerfully while I eyed them for what they truly were, accomplished predators amongst sheep. You never wanted to fight spearmen in a place with only one approach, much less ones that radiated danger. The slightly taller of the two, still rather shorter than me motioned for us to stop with a casual flick of his hand. To me, the motion seemed too much like knife throwing, as if he had imagined tossing the weapon at one of our faces. Kydok rooted himself to the spot mid stride while I shifted like a willow branch in the wind, ready to draw weapon if need be.

"Who's the new guest?" He asked after a moment of consideration, his eyes following my weapons and mine his. His voice echoed in the sewer passage, carrying farther than the oddly soft-spoken words should. This was the leader, in a fight, taking him out first might demoralize his partner.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Kydok sensing the tension coughed awkwardly. "Well, uh, since my arms broken... thought I could use a guard." He finished lamely, not having expected this scenario in the slightest.

The man relaxed slightly before nodding and tapping the smooth door in a specific pattern. Just from the knocking on the door, I could tell it was thick, rather heavy, but its hinges let it open with nary a creak or sound. We passed through the door without protest and I finally relaxed and took in my new surroundings. The area was larger than I expected, one main hall with several road-like offshoots filled with various vendors. It was lit up by similar lanterns to the one Kydok held, providing an eerie light that was much too clean. The lack of smog or pollutants drove home that the light came not from flame but some other source. However, the lack of sound is what truly surprised me, in no way could natural soundproofing be that good, there was magic at play here in many ways.

Kydok gave me an accusatory glare after twenty paces in as I examined the room and its inhabitants.

"The feck was that about? Felt like you wanted to gut each other." He mimed stabbing and clutched his side as if he had been wounded in the exchange.

"Killed many. Not safe." I replied to him, trying to figure out how to describe exactly what I wanted to say. They would kill you without hesitation, for little reason really. They worked by unspoken rules not entirely clear to the ordinary man.

He raised his eyebrows at me, "Aye, they ain’t no green feckers, don't mean they gut everyone."

I shook my head and let the matter drop as I eyed the surroundings. Educating the ignorant did not fall under the responsibilities of my roll. Kydok scanned the room before picking a side road to walk down.

Vendors of all sorts had similar tents to the ones above, a poor mimickery of Tally's market. Each had flaps that hung closed with some odd signage signifying what they sold. A sword for weaponry, a chain for something else, a crow for another. What stood out was the lack of a crowd, where above it would be hard to move, here hardly anyone wanted to draw attention towards themselves. Everyone I saw wore masks, making me rather self-conscious over my clear lack of one. Yet, if my guide didn't care, I could not bring myself to voice an objection.

He occasionally glanced at some odd tent’s signage, before continuing his confident stride towards a place he was clearly familiar with, A red striped tent with the sign of an eye was our eventual destination, lit up through the odd glow it seemed almost sinister, as if something lay in wait ready to devour unsuspecting passerby’s.

Kydok fearlessly entered the sinister tent, grumbling something under his breath and I followed. Once inside the walls disappeared with only a door as our exit, as if we were in an unimaginably large space and not a small tent. Inside this space there wasn’t anything, just the door behind us to provide us a frame of reference. No movement of air, the entire space was wrong.

"Kydok, for bringing me a new customer, you shall learn what you desire. For the new customer, ask once." It called out from no discernable location, with no accent nor pitch. I couldn't tell if some gruff large man had spoken or some mousy woman, it was utterly neutral appearing to emanate from the entire empty limitless area.

Kydok nodded to me for a moment, and I asked, “Where should I go to learn?” It was a simple question, one that stayed true to my fathers wishes and I hoped this thing knew what I was talking about.

A brief hum filled the space before it spoke up, “West towards the University.”

After receiving a look that basically asked, ‘what the fuck?’ from Kydok, he took his turn. "Who were the bastards who broke my arm?" He asked coolly, some anger evident on his visage.

"Wrong question, who…. what…. where…." The voice replied with the barest hint of mirth, as if playing some grand joke with its reply.

Kydok frowned and puzzled out what the response meant, glancing at me for a moment before a look of fear appeared on his face. "Where are the bastards who broke my arm?" He asked in a small voice totally at odds with his previous righteous anger.

Like the thundering of a god the voice laughed, "Outside and waiting.” It spoke with twisted glee.

I felt some sort of presence leave the room and I glanced at Kydok in askance.

I had never up to that point seen a living man so pail and bloodless. He motioned me to come closer before whispering in my ear. "Get ready to kill, this fecker can't lie, we go out fast. "

I nodded for a moment before drawing my axe, preparing my hatchets, my daggers, and some tiny Stoßdolch(push knives).

Kydok on his side drew a dagger I didn't know he had and began praying for a moment before looking towards me and motioning to the door, the only thing in sight within this odd void. It was odd, standing by a door with no walls, where I knew the clothe of a tent should be. Once by the door, he counted with his hands down when we should go, as if it would make much of a difference.

I decided it would be best to take a running start and just when he counted down, I was sprinting out the door with my axe ready, not even expecting anyone to be there, but ready all the same. Outside was a group of three men, two with short swords and one with daggers all in a triangle yet not ready for a sprinting attacker. All had rather plain armor, simple gambeson and leather gloves. They had no distinguishing markings upon their figures, simply appearing like common thugs. I kept it simple and angled my axe to take the one with his short sword too low in the neck, the man tried raising it, but couldn't do it in time, and my axe slammed into his neck as I skidded to a stop wrenching it out. The man’s sword had grazed my arm when he raised it, making it hazardous to throw my weapons with enough accuracy.

Both of them warily approached me, but before they got too close, I threw my hatchets at them regardless of accuracy. Both seemed decent at fighting and the one on the left dodged while the other struck the hatchet out of the way with his sword. I went to the one with a sword and swung my axe at, predictably, his neck. He backpedaled and deflected the blow while I was already dropping my axe and aiming a punch for his throat with my Stoßdolch. He seemed surprised by this but couldn't dodge in time as the knives in my fist punctured his throat. I twisted my fist and tore the man’s throat out as I watched the dagger wielder in the corner of my eye. If there was a rhythm to fighting, I had found it.

Kydok seemed to be sneaking away out of the tent, watching the fight with faint curiosity while he tried to escape. I was tempted to yell at him to wait for me to finish, but why would I give him away? The dagger wielder frowned at me before speaking.

"Well well, looks like the brothers got themselves a half decent guard. Too bad for you Kydok he's a little dim and can't count. Now Rem!" He spoke deceptively softly for how far his voice traveled much like the door guards. I was surprised his voice even got that loud in this magically enforced quiet chamber as none I had heard up until now had been able to get that loud. My head swiveled towards Kydok, and I watched in horror as Kydok got jumped by someone hiding in the shadows I never saw during my sprint out. I saw blood and knew there was no surviving that. I picked up my axe, circling my opponent while collecting my equipment, ready to tear out his throat should he try anything, but did I even want to kill him? My principle had died.

"Well, sorry to put you out of work mate, but I'd say were fair seeing as how you killed two of my lads." The dagger wielder spoke up as he sheathed his daggers and slowly walked away without turning his back. The shadowy form of the ambusher slunk out of the corner and joined the leader as they left me standing there, three dead amongst me. I seethed, angry at my own failure and shortcomings, angry at Kydok for his stupidity, but most importantly, angry that I had killed my first person with hardly any emotion as if I was killing a beast.

I reflected on the fight, on my opponent’s corpses as I examined them as people instead of enemies. They were young, malnourished, their clothing thin with holes. The swords had a shine to them, clearly not something they owned, but what struck me the most was that they were likely younger than me. What if I had grown up here? Put in unfortunate circumstances and taking whatever job got me by, only to be slaughtered by an opponent, barely able to use your weapon.

I sighed after a moment, trying to release the tension I felt within myself.

In the end I decided to scavenge the equipment of those I killed, much like how I skinned an animal, something familiar and calming. However, the only useful things they had were some makeshift bandages (for my arm) and their swords which hopefully I could pawn off. I eyed the sad form of Kydok in the corner before grunting as I heaved him over my shoulder. I looked ridiculous, two swords and an axe at my hip and a bloody body over my shoulder. The masked bystanders cleared off as I tried making my way back towards Yorems home. When I reached the door, the guards on this side opened it for me with little hesitation, not even a judging look towards my grim appearance.

I stewed during the whole journey; the anger evident on my face as passerby’s avoided me like I was one of the plagued. I went around the market, unwilling to expose myself to a large thronging crowd. Eventually I reached Helladay row and found Yorems home with its door open, his belongings ransacked and a strew. I gently set Kydoks body down by the door and drew a dagger with which to fight, large weapons would be hindering in a close environment. My eyes strained against the darkness of the home, yet I dared not light a lamp. The creaking of wood made me jump, but the creaking was distinctly different from the weight of a person. I carefully stepped through the home, with the utmost care not to bump into furniture as I cleared the building of what might be inside it.

Fortunately, no fight would be had as all I found was another corpse on the first floor, Yorems body in a fetal position as his neck was slit open while clutching a metal gear. I simply stared at the corpse; my face oddly neutral. Finally, I looked around the home, intent to scavenge something for my benefit and journey. After setting the two brothers’ side by side and performing the rites of Eld, I took stock of my belongings before setting off, Traven would not be my home, the gods spat at me here.

I had not made it past the end of Helladay row before several armored figures blocked my path. I scowled at the five men, wishing they would just get out of my way, leave me to my anger.

Taking a closer look, all of them wore similar chain/plate armor with blades at their hips. An emblem shone upon their breasts signifying something of importance I had never learned during my short stay.

“Sir… what is your relationship with the Grisselran syndicate?” To finish this statement, he drew his sword and held it at the ready. The others shifted awkwardly, wondering what would happen no doubt.

______________________________________________________________________________

Ferd took his glasses off and groaned while rubbing his eyes. His double shift made it a long day, and he had to deal with so much bullshit already. The commissioner was ruthless, and the Grisselran syndicate decided it was their job to fuck with him in the worst ways.

He looked over the preliminary information found about the subject, it was sparse… too sparse.

No previous history, actually unlogged in both the criminal logs and even the imperial subject logs. That just didn’t happen unless you were from literally nowhere. No previous history of Grisselran syndicate involvement, claims to have arrived literally a day ago. Poor language skills, and plentiful weapons. What the fuck was he supposed to get off of that information? How was he supposed to structure an interrogation when they didn’t even have a name, nor where the fucker came from.

He grabbed his notes along with a pen and made his way to the holding room. The guard nodded and opened the heavy metal door for him, something Ferds stick thin frame could never do. The tapping of fingers on wood reached his ears as he approached a rather large young man sitting on the opposite side of the table.

With a false smile, Ferd sat down, and fake reviewed his notes, in the corner of his eye looking at the man’s reactions. The drumming fingers wasn’t nervousness, the body language didn’t indicate that, but likely boredom. The posture was aggressive, an angry scowl plastered on the… no not a man’s, but a youth’s face. Dear god, the hell did this kid eat? Finally, Ferd looked up and met eyes with the youth, the blue was deeper than he had seen before, and more importantly, cold and angry like a storm at sea.

“Hi, I’m Ferd, what’s your name.” Ferd smiled, but he didn’t reach his hand out to shake his hand. In all likelihood, the youth would crush it.

“You call me Herr.” He spoke with a deep, thick, and unplaceable accent. It was the kind of voice that promised murder, made animals flee.

But Ferd was a professional, so he soldiered on with the false smile. “Is that your name? I’ve never heard of that before.”

“No.” He gave a vicious smile, the drumming of the fingers stopping momentarily. It resumed again a moment later.

“Where do you come from, in my notes it says you only arrived a day ago?” The false cheer was harder to maintain since he barely had enough fucks to give to get through the day.

“Nord, Dornwald.” He spoke again, a scowl tearing into Ferds face.

Writing a few notes down, like where the fuck that was on a map? He asked the most important questions that would decide whether ‘Herr’ left his jurisdiction.

“Now, are you involved with the Grisselran syndicate, and why do you have so many weapons? There was blood on the weapons, and you were found near two murdered bodies.” Ferd concentrated on his skill, pushing it to the limit to evaluate the answers, the body language of the answers, and the validity of them.

“Know not Grisselran. I hunt. I kill bad men, they kill Kydok, Yorem.”

It was impassionate, admitting to having killed men previously. So previously the blood was fresh and not cleaned, but not a spark of emotion other than general anger crossed his face. However, Ferds skill told him it was the absolute truth, he was entirely sure that this ‘Herr’ was not involved.

With a sigh, Ferd checked his notes for the next questions as the day dragged on.

_______________________________

I finally left the guard home when the night had dawned, the moon illuminating the slick streets and the absent stars speaking of the city’s emptiness. I longed to rid myself of the filth of it, to be amongst the wilds again as I travelled to wherever the university is. West, to the west gate, a place I hadn’t seen yet and would gladly travel. The streets were less filthy as I walked, the building made of better materials, the alleyways not so mysterious. It took me a moment to connect that I had spent all my time in the lower districts of the city, a place meant for the more dangerous and poorer. I moved into one of the cleaner alleyways, scaling the wall and finding the nook on the roof I spotted was as comfortable as it seemed, which wasn’t very much, but better than nothing.

To check one’s status was a simple affair, it came to you in dreams that most could remember, at the forefront of your mind and unforgettable. I would need to check my status sheet, but I knew I had leveled up already. I was a fighting class, and I had killed two people already. If my father’s notes were to be trusted, which they were, the next skill slot would be the most annoying to train. You see before I left, I had trained my musculature to level four and chosen the extra effect it offered of being unable to lose musculature. Now, this is all well and good, you don’t need to constantly train to maintain the skill level, nor your muscles, but it was also dangerous. If you lost access to food, your body wouldn’t burn the muscle to keep yourself alive, you would starve much faster than others. Getting bigger than I was already was bordering on that dangerous line, it would be difficult to find food in addition to being expensive and a bad week could very well kill me.

Thus, I would train the poor man’s skill, Starvable. It was a blessing, since it would lower my caloric needs, but training it was stupid, stupid and suicidal. Much like the name implies, it involves starving yourself and keeping yourself there as a form of training. Too much food and it doesn’t train, leaving yourself with crippling hunger for nothing. Too little? And well you died. Since I couldn’t lose muscle, it would be stupidly easy to get myself to that starving point, but this was a skill I needed if I would ever get bigger without forcing my hand to stay in a city.

It didn’t take long for me to find sleep, knocking myself out for the troubles that the day had brought. It was right there, my agility had gone up with my level, and a single open skill slot awaited me. I had several candidates already, swordsmanship, dashing, endurance. Endurance was something I would get later, but the rest weren’t something for me to get this early in my life. My knowledge of the skill Starvable and the lack of any recent meals made the skill appear before me already. With reluctance, I selected it and then faded to my dreams.