Amdirlain’s PoV - Outlands - Xaos


    When Amdirlain arrived in the suite’s living area, she found Livia, Rana, and Goxashru looking over the surveyor’s images.


    After exchanging their greetings, Livia jumped straight in. “Did things go well?”


    “They’ve retrieved and opened the royal tower. Gideon gave an achievement for it, but I think the main reason was to let us know not everyone in it was trustworthy. Gail, Isa, and I left the Lóm? to sort out their mess,” advised Amdirlain.


    “Are they going to be okay?” asked Livia.


    The smile Amdirlain had given her became tinged with uncertainty. “The Lóm? currently living in the Abyss are much stronger than they used to be, but nothing is certain. I passed on Gideon’s warning, and they called knights to secure the tower. Now the important thing for us is, have you three picked a campsite?”


    Goxashru tapped an extended claw against the river area’s display. “This place seems preferable. Their water vessels seem to go in straight lines between cities, but we can’t assume that is always the case, and some might follow coastlines. The hills and lakes are higher locations and could get colder if I understand what you mean by the planet’s tilt not changing general seasons.”


    Amdirlain clapped. “Alright, riverside it is. Are you folks ready to head out?”


    “I’ve got items and spells that can provide Goxashru and me with food and water if the local resources aren’t palatable,” replied Livia.


    “There is nothing further I need,” Goxashru answered.


    “I’m ready anytime you are,” advised Rana. “I’m not strong enough to require a summoning; an open Gate and an invitation by a Mortal is enough.”


    “First, we need to move out of town,” said Livia firmly.


    Fixing her with an innocent smile, Amdirlain offered her a new crystal device. “Fine, we’ll do it that way. This device should summon me into a ritual circle without intentional flaws—I won’t be sure if it''s perfect until I see it properly. I’d like to ensure I can get out of them with True Song.”


    Looking at the crystal like a poisonous snake, Livia still took it from her. “Very well. A perfect circle is too much like that Artificer’s goal.”


    Amdirlain gave Livia a reassuring hug. “I’m learning if I can safeguard myself; we can wipe it out afterwards. I should have offered Enrig and Callen a chance to come along, but I don’t want to disrupt the garrison.”


    “Cyrus has them under control, though he’s more here to teach you than anyone else,” Livia commented.


    Amdirlain shrugged. “And here I am, running around the realm. How terrible of me!”


    “Sharing a route to enlightenment still brings him enjoyment,” advised Livia. “Though I’m sure he’ll miss his practice target.”


    Amdirlain laughed, and when the others rose, she teleported them to a meadow within the outlands.


    Listening to the crystal device that displayed the river, Amdirlain opened a Gate on the outer curve of a developing oxbow lake. The greenish-blue water was clean enough to see assorted fishes swimming within it. Though the spot Amdirlain picked was among the long grasses that spread out from this spot of the riverbank, a thick woodland showed downstream.


    “Rana, would you extend me an Allegiance Bond so I can invite you through the Gate?” Livia asked.


    “Of course. I’m sure neither your Liege nor my Lady will object,” replied Rana, and Amdirlain heard a connection form between them.


    Livia stalked across the threshold, poised to respond to danger. Amdirlain didn’t stop her but focused on extending Resonance. It picked out some predatory creatures—simple beasts among the fields and woods. Their strengths weren’t a danger to Livia, or even Goxashru, unless they completely let their guard down. Which was a habit that Amdirlain was sure they weren’t about to start.


    The others followed when Livia cleared the Gate, but Amdirlain didn’t let it close until she heard the summoning device activate. The strength of the circle translated into a wider passage across planes, but the rainbow-hued surface of the tube and final transfer were still the same.


    When Amdirlain emerged within the circle, its mirrored barrier reflected her Fallen form. Her electric blue hair and bronze-gold skin almost glowed in the illumination shed from the flames that enfolded her wings. True Sight showed a smooth barrier of Mana along the summoning circle’s inner edge. Examining it intently, Amdirlain didn’t detect any of the ripples that her previous version had possessed.


    [Perception [M] (79->80)]


    Rather than try the barrier at all, Amdirlain let out a cutting note aimed across the surface of the winding runes and watched the barrier wink out. As the energy faded, she took in the scents of wildflowers, tree sap, river, and moist earth. The microfauna and flora—absent from the Outlands—were in abundance. Their melodies possessed greater resilience to the long cold periods than she’d heard on other worlds.


    “Was that your last idea for testing?” asked Livia hopefully.


    “For now. I might have to try another circle that prevents sounds from crossing its barrier. At present, it seems even a flawless barrier of a normal summoning circle is vulnerable to True Song,” advised Amdirlain.


    Livia nodded happily. “Then I’m less worried about you venturing near the locals; most containment spells I know let you communicate with those caught.”


    “I’ll stay with you for a few days while we assess the local area in person. Where did you want your base camp?”


    “Towards the top of a rise in case there is any flooding,” replied Livia, pointing directly away from the riverbank


    “Once I get a compound built to your liking, you guys can explore, and I’ll pick out a local form,” decided Amdirlain.


    It ended up being five days before Amdirlain was out of excuses to linger further. Their compound was a single-story version of Nolmar with a courtyard, enclosed training hall, and rooms beyond. The structure’s outer wards had dealt with assorted threats, from small venomous insects to a metallic-scaled bull. The latter’s rage-filled assaults had finally triggered a lethal response. Goxashru had quickly determined that the meat beneath its scales was tough but edible.


    While they settled in, Amdirlain had taken time to scry on some Catfolk settlements and pick out a body and clothing to help blend in. Checking on individuals mentally held in a deep slumber might be morally dubious, but it had allowed her to read their forms and clothing with Protean.


    The Catfolk variant was more Human-like in their stance, not possessing extended ankles, but each sported a tail long enough to curl about their ankles. Opting for a typical dark blue fur, Amdirlain had found it provided excellent nighttime camouflage. She created a worn, dark red leather top laced along the sides, accompanying dark grey pants, and a travel pack. The locals'' open-toed boots protected the soles of their feet while allowing their clawed toes to bite into the ground.


    Moving in the new form wasn’t an issue but control of its automated responses was different. Unlike the adults Amdirlain had observed, her long tufted ears still twitched like a child’s at any noise. Likewise, the whiskers of her adopted form flexed at the slightest shift in air pressure. Still, their high sensitivity was both helpful and a challenge. Rana had failed to creep up on Amdirlain without her trying to listen to his song or mind; a pace even a fraction too quick was all it took to carry a detectable breeze.


    Amdirlain had eventually opted for a slightly taller form than Livia, causing a narrow-eyed reaction. “Rub it in. You’re going to be short for one of the Catfolk.”


    “I plan to pass as a teenager looking for an apprenticeship. There are nomadic aspects to many of their cultures,” explained Amdirlain. She flipped her tail up, clasped it in both hands and blinked shyly at Livia. “Plus, don’t I look adorable?”


    “Shoo, you!” proclaimed Livia, laughing even as she reached to rub Amdirlain’s tufted ears.


    Teleport placed Amdirlain on the edge of an orchard. The dawn was lightening the sky, and she could hear workers beginning to move among the trees closer to the farmhouse.


    Beyond the last line of trees, she had a clear view of a busy dual-lane highway that ran out of the foothills behind her and sliced through fields of strange grains. The surveyor’s view showed its path included fields, a few towns, and a large metropolis nearly two hundred kilometres away. Though she was likelier to go unnoticed in the metropolis, Amdirlain wanted a small test run of mingling with the locals first.


    Slipping past the last row of trees to the orchard’s fence line, Amdirlain enjoyed the early morning ripe fruit scents. Here and there among the fields before the town stood various strange hexagonal buildings. Farmhouses, barns, and storage sheds only varied by size, doors, and window placements. The structures were made from identically sized hexagonal blocks of silvery grey stone. Amdirlain nodded, pleased with the variety of interior tastes hidden beneath the consistent exteriors. The alchemical nature of the building material was clear from their Resonance and how their energy interacted with the building’s Radiant wards.


    Undead issue?


    As she moved towards the sealed edge of the highway that the orchard bunted against, Amdirlain watched rune-powered vehicles pass. Each vehicle appeared unique, from elongated tear drops to solid blocky trucks. Even those that were similarly shaped bore different imagery along their sides. Some seemed like artistic touches, but others were pictures of individuals or products. The metal shell of each concealed a host of individually etched runes, not just to power the vehicle but to protect those within.


    The smallest she saw was about the size of a family sedan, while the biggest was a fourteen-wheeler. Some machines were ‘steam-powered’ but still travelled eighty kilometres or more an hour. Others had cores of elemental energy powering them directly, and the mechanisms varied as wildly as their means of propulsion. Some floated on cushions of air, water, or enchanted metal plates, while others still had pistons and gears at work to power wheels.


    Amdirlain had only been walking along the sealed shoulder of the highway for a few minutes when attention came her way. A sedan-sized vehicle riding an air cushion pulled off the highway ahead of her. As it came to a halt, a strip of yellow lights appeared atop its roof and boot, and a brown and black-furred male Catfolk slid from the shoulder side of the vehicle. Amdirlain took in the enchanted baton-like energy projector already in his hand.


    His light blue outfit had a matched silver marking on his sleeves at both cuffs and shoulders. A pattern that looked like a trio of claws had dug into a tree’s bark and wasn’t anything Amdirlain had noted in her observations. A similarly uniformed tawny female Catfolk observed Amdirlain through the vehicle’s rear window. Though she acted casual, she had an immobilising Spell already formed and ready to send at Amdirlain.


    The strength of the different Tier 6 Prestige classes each possessed almost had Amdirlain swearing in surprise, prompting her to extend a touch against their public minds.


    What the heck is going on with this world? It might not be a good place to draw the attention of the law. This could be more trouble than expected if this is their highway patrol.


    “Young miss, how did you get alongside this bypass?” asked the law keeper that had stepped out, his body language losing its sternness as he looked her over.


    “I’ve been coming north cross-country, and this ended up being the first road I found with traffic,” explained Amdirlain. Tucking her hands behind the small pack she wore, she bowed her head.


    Amdirlain caught his assessment of her body language rapidly dropping her age to a point he found concerning and placed her as a runaway teen. Kicking himself for thinking a kid was a night lady fishing for a transporter, he gruffly cleared his throat in embarrassment.


    Stupid Femme Fatale.


    “Do your parents or pride know you’re out and about?”


    “My parents are deceased. My pride was arguing about who would take me in. I’m heading to the city to try for work there,” whispered Amdirlain.


    The officer sighed, and Amdirlain caught a hint of dissatisfaction with her pride; it offended him they’d left a youngster to wander alone through a dangerous countryside. “While it’s not a problem in other places, the local council made it illegal to walk along the bypass. Hop in the back, and then you’re not walking. Our patrol limit is two towns further along. You got a preference for which we drop you at?”


    “Either, sir,” chirped Amdirlain, letting her tail flick happily, a momentary break from her tight control.


    The officer huffed and opened the back door. “Did you break camp at first light?”


    His surface thoughts made it clear he intended to fish an elder’s name from her so he could chew their ear. Wise to his plan, Amdirlain extended her telepathy to both of them for the safest answers.


    After shifting her weight between her feet, Amdirlain nodded and waved back towards the orchard. “I only encountered the road after following that orchard’s fence line. Been travelling awhile; my kin are beyond the territories’ southern borders.”


    “Where is the rest of your kit to come that far?” exclaimed the officer, his thoughts making it clear she’d have to have crossed at least two hundred kilometres on foot.


    The male’s mental map came up with a clarity that made it clear it was a Class Power. Only a few gaps blotched the vast tracts of his personal map that showed where he’d travelled and fought.


    Doh! Misjudged that nearby border reference. Fast cars, of course close isn''t a standard walking distance.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    “Lost it in a river crossing. I’ve got the essentials still,” proclaimed Amdirlain.


    “Must be a bunch of bloody short-eared idiots to let a youngster come this far,” grumbled the officer. “Your camp stones holding up?”


    His words accompanied an image of an energy dome holding back incorporeal undead and rows of Catfolk unloading energy bolts from larger versions of his baton. Screams coming from a nearby fading dome had them redirecting fire against infected comrades.


    “They’re okay, and I’ve got throwing blades for protection,” protested Amdirlain.


    The officer lightly thumped on the vehicle’s roof in frustration. “Don’t give me that. I can see you aren’t carrying anything beyond some unenchanted fur trimmers. I’m not mad about what you did, ?but your pride’s disregard for your life. You made it through safely, so let''s get you somewhere safer. Hop in, I need to get myself some breakfast.”


    “Yes, sir,” replied Amdirlain, and she carefully projected innocence and meekness.


    “How old are you, anyway?”


    Having started approaching, Amdirlain paused and straightened—the picture of an offended teenager. “I’m over sixteen. I’m allowed to seek an apprenticeship.”


    “You got papers?”


    “Papers?” Amdirlain questioned nervously, forcing her ears to droop.


    The officer straightened and loomed over Amdirlain, who swished her tail about copying Malnir’s innocence. “No form of identification? Get in. We’ll take you to the second town and talk to the station’s supervisor. They can sort out a visitor’s chit. I can’t send you back, but I ain’t leaving a kid running around with no way to call for help.”


    “Yes, sir,” repeated Amdirlain, and she glided forward and slid into the backseat. The officer mentally kicked himself for misjudging her age as he hopped back into the vehicle.


    “Make sure you give the door a good pull; otherwise, the latch might not secure properly,” warned the female officer sitting behind a set of controls that wouldn’t be out of place in a cockpit. Having already broken down the offensive Spell she’d held, she extended a hand over the seat to Amdirlain.


    Amdirlain exchanged a quick handshake with the female officer and took in the detection Spell returning the information she’d allowed. Upon releasing the officer’s hand, Amdirlain carefully but firmly closed the door, keeping her strength in check.


    As the male grumbled, the female officer turned back towards the front, her gaze scanning around the car. Only when she’d confirmed it was clear did she look up into the mirrored strip across the front window and wink at Amdirlain. “Got a name?”


    “Am.”


    “Welcome to the territories, Am. We’re both law keepers of the Blackclaw pride; the charming one is Pharal, and I’m Yilsten. You had anything to eat today?”


    “I ate earlier, and I need to change some nuggets for coins,” explained Amdirlain.


    “Nuggets? What sort of hairball place do you come from?” huffed Yilsten.


    Amdirlain swallowed. “I found them panning and kept them as an emergency fund.”


    “You’ll need to speak to a jeweller about nuggets, but we can treat you to a bite to eat before we hit the station. Food in comfort is always better than trail rations,” advised Yilsten as she put the vehicle in gear.


    Beneath the vehicle''s hood, Amdirlain heard funnels extend into a whirlwind in the vehicle’s core. The vehicle lept forward with a jolt going from nothing to sixty kilometres an hour in a scattering of breaths.


    “Do you need to speak to a tuner? Either the engager is getting worse, or you’ve got your heavy shoes on today,” rumbled Pharal.


    “Bite your tail,” huffed Yilsten good-naturedly.


    “Do you get many newcomers to the territories?” asked Amdirlain.


    “It varies. Why? Are you looking for someone that came ahead of you?” enquired Yilsten.


    “No one I know took this route. Just, you both seemed relaxed about me being here?”


    “You’re not an undead or some other monster. Long as you don’t go breaking the law, I ain’t going to spank you for living,” advised Yilsten. “You looking for any work in particular?”


    “I can sense a rune’s energy. I thought I’d seek an inscriber to learn from,” replied Amdirlain.


    “They’re called artificers in the territories. Unless you’ve got a sponsor or are from the families, that’s a costly craft to break into,” informed Yilsten. “Since you can sense Mana in a rune, gaining an Affinity is easy; the military or law keepers would sponsor your education.”


    “Whatever route you choose, you’d best stop copying the strut of that elder. The way you walk, you’re going to attract unwelcome attention, and someone’s bound to end up pressuring you,” declared Pharal gruffly. “You made a heck of a trip through rough terrain; I''d hate to see you end up as someone’s tail.”


    “Someone’s tail?” squeaked Amdirlain.


    Pharal turned to look over the seat. “Get caught up in debt and you''ll become a puppet when they say jump.”


    Amdirlain snorted. “So not happening.”


    “I told you she was younger than you thought,” laughed Yilsten, and she glanced in the mirrored strip again. “You move like a hyped-up teenager; far too much energy in your bounce at this hour to be an adult.”


    As other vehicles around them slipped off to join the first town’s roads, Yilsten kept them going straight ahead. While she drove, Pharal focused on his planned verbal fishing, but Amdirlain stayed twelve steps ahead. Her telepathy allowed her to skirt subjects, and she gave Pharal nothing concrete to work on while still believing she was merely a runaway teen.


    [Diplomacy [J] (26->27)


    Note: You’re so not grounded, young lady!]


    Amdirlain studied the layout she had only seen from overhead when they turned into the second town. The hexagon structure of the buildings continued within the town’s limits. Rather than creating zig-zag streets, the hexagon forms prompted them to leave gaps along the shop fronts. They used each for a nature space with benches, trees, or grassy spots. With all the sights she’s seen, the architecture is far from the most unusual.


    As they turned a bend with the promise of the station and food just ahead, Amdirlain caught sight of a raised platform at the end of the street. A pair of stone rails extended onwards in the city’s direction, and Amdirlain noticed its course ran out to follow the bypass. From above, the imagery would have just blended them in.


    Need to do something about side perspectives.


    Pharal waved ahead, though his gaze remained on her. “The law keeper station is just before the terminus. Have you ever heard of the skyline where you’re from?”


    “The what?”


    “If you’re heading to the city, I’d advise you to get a ticket. The sales counter is at the base of the stairs up to the platform. Less risk than a lift from a stranger and not only fewer stops than most transporters, but faster,” advised Pharal, pointing ahead towards the upper platform. “The rails overhead guide the carriages’ direction and elevation while the carriages’ runes handle movement. Far cheaper than an airship—not that one docks here more than twice a week.”


    “The skyline’s new and makes two daily trips to Osaphis,” added Yilsten. “I rode on it the first week it opened—comfortable seats with room to stretch. If you buy passage, make sure not to wander off; they don’t refund tickets and give a minimal warning about departures.”


    “You said I can get a chit at the law bringer station?” asked Amdirlain. “But what even is a chit?”


    “It’s an Artificer gadget that came out of the university after some kids went missing a few decades back. The owner can set off a yell that lets matching gadgets law bringers carry know their physical state and direction,” ordered Pharal.


    “They ever find the kids?” asked Amdirlain softly.


    Pharal turned forward. “Not alive. They turned up in a Vampire’s lair. The chits have saved many lives since, and I’ve not heard any pride arguing about the budget for them. You can’t prank using them, and you’ll get a fine if you try.”


    Amdirlain hummed thoughtfully. “Because they send out your physical state?”


    “Yeah. If you send a yell and aren’t in distress, it’s going to say as much, and the law keeper will fine you on the spot,” confirmed Pharal. “Not that it stops some folks who should know better from trying. That’s not to say you must wait for someone to hurt you. If you’ve got reason to fear for your life, it''s valid to use it even if someone hasn’t yet hurt you.”


    Amdirlain listened to a couple of patrol stories the pair shared as the vehicle moved past an assortment of storefronts. The place felt like a large country town that a big chain or megastores hadn’t invaded. Despite the early hour, the sidewalks were already busy with people coming and going. Behind the hexagon block facades, food and hardware stores lay alongside cafes and clothing.


    Yilsten pointed Amdirlain to a jeweller’s shop positioned beside the station. It had discrete frontage—just a sign above the door—and, like every other shop, there were no enormous windows filled with displays.


    “Is it right beside the station for safety?” remarked Amdirlain.


    “Playing it safe; just because it’s a new and smallish town doesn’t mean someone will not get itchy paws,” agreed Yilsten. “It’s worse in the city. You could find employment here, you know. The town is growing, lots of jobs being advertised.”


    Amdirlain shook her head. “You said the city has a university, right?”


    “You were listening to her ramble? Yes, it has the triumvirate campus, but the semester fees aren’t cheap. Plenty will tell you tales about dropping out because of the cost,” interjected Pharal.


    “Easier to blame that than admit they’re lazy,” rebutted Yilsten.


    “Why is it called the triumvirate campus?” asked Amdirlain.


    Yilsten straightened behind the steering controls and grinned in the mirror. “Started as three competing arcane schools: wizards, artificers and alchemists. But it combined before the modern era. It still teaches arcane subjects, and everything else you can imagine.”


    “You can’t tell that she’s got a fancy degree from it, can you?” mock-whispered Pharal.


    “Hush you,” Yilsten brought the vehicle to a halt near a building marked with the same symbol emblazoned on their sleeves. “You want to get the chit first or sell your materials?”


    “We’re getting breakfast first, or are you forgetting?” interrupted Pharal, and he tapped the tip of Yilsten’s ear.


    “Whatever. Come on, let''s feed the little stray. Though if you skip writing your report, I’ll feed you to the supervisor,” retorted Yilsten, and she slid out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind her.


    “You’re going to break the door,” protested Pharal.


    Yilsten jabbed a finger back at the door. “Then get someone to fix the latches.”


    “It’s alright, baby,” murmured Pharal, and he pretended to pat the dash while opening his door. “Wizards have no respect for your superior runes.”


    The interior of the Eatery they led Amdirlain to was lit by soft white light from the hexagonal blocks that weren’t covered with artwork. Everything hung on the walls was a mix of sports images and military-looking banners. In the centre of the cafe was an oval service counter lined with stools. The staff were busy handling a nearly full store, cooking orders on an array of enchanted stoves and grills. Scattered about were free-standing tables, and along the sides were booths with cushioned seats shaped to allow for uncurled tails.


    Breakfast itself was familiar yet strange, fried eggs with yolks of red, surrounded by green ‘whites’, and slices of medium rare roast. The herbal scent of a local tea was strong but brightened the pair like a caffeine jolt before they were halfway through. Despite the smell, the tea had no aftertaste, which was more than the clumpy bread accompanying the meal could claim. As they stood, Pharal left an assortment of coins on the table made from the same cheap alloy, regardless of their varying denominations.


    “What was up with that bread? Is it always like that?” asked Amdirlain as she noticed Yilsten’s muzzle curl when they got outside.


    “The cook has been trying to bake his own. He needs to give it up before he poisons someone,” reported Yilsten.


    Approaching the station’s double doors, Amdirlain saw a well-lit interior with all the hexagon blocks projecting a soft, white light. Besides the same wards as other buildings, she could sense restraint wards in a basement area only accessible by a fortified elevator. The runes that maintained the wards were being fed energy from stores in the building walls, which seemed to be recharged by the environment.


    Beyond the front doors was a simple room with a deep counter, tended by a small silvery-furred female just slightly taller than Amdirlain’s form. Her uniform was the same, even down to the emblems. Wondering about comparative authority, Amdirlain fished in the trio’s minds to see if they even had the concept of rank. From Pharal, she only caught ideas that seemed to indicate an almost flat hierarchy with only the duty roles varying.


    “What can I do for you three?” purred the clerk, her gaze fixed on Pharal.


    Pharal waved at Amdirlain. “Am’s a newcomer to the territories, Rystral. She needs a chit and the usual list of dos and don’ts so she doesn’t get in trouble. Planning to head into the city when she’s sorted out.”


    The introduction caused Rystral’s ears to twitch. “Weren’t you on bypass patrol last night?”


    “Well, she ?didn’t walk along the bypass, or we’d have to be getting you to write her up,” replied Pharal.


    “She ?didn’t walk along the bypass to get here,” huffed Yilsten, and she clasped Amdirlain’s shoulder before her voice dropped to a concerned murmur. “Good luck, kiddo; stay safe. Drop a note to us here if you need any advice or when you find a place.”


    Amdirlain nodded her thanks and approached the counter. As she moved, the pair slipped through a blank door to the right, leaving her alone with Rystral. The disappointment and concern for her safety that Amdirlain felt from both made her feel bad about the cover story she’d used.


    Rystral set a binder on the counter with a written language Amdirlain didn’t recognise. The shortfall of Polyglot covering spoken but not written communications coming back to bite. Faced with an extended stay, Amdirlain didn’t want to keep a translation Spell continually going. Checking her list of exposed languages, Amdirlain spent a knowledge point and felt the working of their language and script flood in.


    [Lurmorne Language Unlocked]


    “Yeah, right, fine,” grumbled Rystral, and she retrieved a metal box from under the counter. “Come over here. You’ll need to place a paw on the box shortly. Before that, I’ll need your details for the chit. I hope you can read.”


    “I manage,” squeaked Amdirlain, and she checked the box’s purpose while waiting for Rystral’s instructions. The device was an advanced version of Yngvarr''s imprint plate, connecting to a remote source with a link that involved Mental Mana.


    Rystral handed her a dummy’s guide to the territories laws booklet from the binder and started asking rapid-fire questions. Their pace made Amdirlain glad she’d prepared her backstory in advance to avoid having to tamper with Rystral’s thoughts. As the short inquiry continued, Amdirlain re-checked the box’s enchantments and examined the chit Rystral had on a necklace.


    When it at last came time to touch its surface, Amdirlain faked up a Profile and helped it out since it usually drew a drop of blood.


    Rystral nodded in satisfaction when a round pendant dropped out of its side. “Slip the loop through something so you don’t lose it. If you lose the chit, replacing it incurs a fee, and this box sends information to a central store that each checks against. If you lie that you’ve not gotten one before, there is a fine. There are lots of idiot taxes about the place because there are lots of ways to get caught in stupid lies. Ensuring you’re truthful will avoid fines for wasting people’s time.”


    “Yes, ma’am,” chirped Amdirlain, and she touched the chit into a pouch under her tunic.


    Glancing at a display on the box, Rystral frowned and started to flip through the binder. “You’re a fifth-level Bard?”


    Her tone was enough to know that wasn’t what had drawn her frown. The symbols that had caught Rystral attention matched an entry she hadn’t seen since the training: the detection of a high Faith rating.


    It’s just as well Livia didn’t come in. My fake Profile shows Faith as twenty, twice what Rystral’s binder says is normal.


    “I live hoping for a better Class than Bard, ma’am,” replied Amdirlain.


    Her brows lifted at Amdirlain’s respectful tone. “You’ve got an archaic Class, and I can''t say I''ve ever met a Bard. What do you perform?”


    “Singing and dancing, plus I’ve got practice on a stringed instrument, but I don’t have one I can use,” replied Amdirlain.


    “What do you plan to do in the city?” enquired Rystral.


    “Look for an apprenticeship and maybe pick up new classes.”


    “Have you got funds to live off while you look for work?” asked Rystral, and she went on when Amdirlain nodded. “Don’t go sleeping on the streets. There are nomad shelters if you’re tight for the coin, but sleeping rough will get you picked up as a vagrant.”


    "What happens then?"


    "Should have figured a southern wouldn''t know. Caught sleeping on the street means work camp; we don’t need you turned. Unless they can find you a job with your classes, they''ll tell you the next Class to pick based on job shortages. After that, they’ll train you in its skills until you get it. Even if they avoid getting turned, too many vagrants turn to crime in one fashion or another,” explained Rystral.


    They''ve got a big problem with the undead; still, that’s pretty extreme industrial control. But not like I can’t just blend into a wall.


    “Thank you, ma’am,” answered Amdirlain. Taking in Rystral’s continued alarm from Amdirlain’s Faith rating, she nodded politely and meekly, “Thank you for your guidance.”


    When Amdirlain left the law keeper’s station, she heard Rystral go to find the others.


    The service in the jeweller’s shop was efficient, and selling the rough nuggets of silver and mithril didn’t take long. The speed with which the jeweller had recognised the mithril amongst the silver spoke well of them. Though they’d haggled sharply enough that Amdirlain netted another diplomacy increase.


    As Amdirlain headed for the skyline’s terminus, she caught the rush of energy along with carriages of metal and glass. The speed it was approaching made it feel like someone had mixed a monorail with a bullet train, and Amdirlain picked up her pace. Behind her in the law keeper’s station, she noticed Rystral was still arguing with Pharal and Yilsten about the mystery kid.