<em>Friday 2:30 p.m. </em>


    <em>November 11, 2095</em>


    <em>Holo-conference room, Rends VR Tourism Unit</em>


    <em>Status: wondering why he ever thought he''d miss corporate life</em>


    *


    Eli''s Friday morning actually had been quite productive.


    He spent nearly four hours in enjoyable discussion with one of Norge''s creative team, several other coordinators, and the Rends VR-tour nning group.


    He''d been assigned to n the tour of Crescent Firebloom Monastery, mostly the logistics of herding 100 testers through the site, with an estimated total of 10,000 people at peak.


    He had a headache already.


    It was being advertised as a meditation retreat.


    With its location in the high peaks near Keklos Lake City in Amvard continent, the Monastery was secluded, separated from mundane world by a sea of clouds, and yet close enough to several viges and towns suitable for visiting.


    But ten thousand people in meditation?


    He could just imagine it: every cliffside ledge, every tree-shaded rock, every burbling waterfall, every peak and every garden pool, there was a budding sage.


    The memes people would make of that scene would be epic.


    He remembered the monasteries of Zushkenar closed themselves off to visitors before the Quake, only admitting child refugees from the war. They slowly started to re-open some years after the transmigration.


    It was one of the nuns of the Stormblessed Monastery who alerted the coalition of Marfall guilds to the discovery that one of the popr nt-based materials could not be acquired because the nt went extinct from overharvesting.


    The discussion with one of the actual creative team was more interesting than he thought, getting to know what ideas, concepts, and events gave rise to the history of a fantasy location.


    They were about to stop, having carried on to lunch and after.


    But then Juni Heddey, the unit director, announced that some people had unexpectedly arrived who would like to discuss a few proposals with the unit.


    The tour coordinators were invited to attend, if they could.


    Eli was being paid by the hour anyway, so he agreed.


    If he thought he''d be stuck watching people go round and round about whether hiring actual artisans to demonstrate what ''craft'' meant or relegating the work to AI avatars would be ''authentic'' enough for the tourists, he''d have left immediately.


    It was a proposal about building artisanmunities in Old World style, whatever that meant.


    Eli''s understanding indicated the proposal meant to locate the said crafting-basedmunities on the ''Rends version of the Silk Road''.


    The size of the game map was approximately simr to half the surface area of Earth, so that was a rather massive undertaking.


    The Marfall continent alone had the same amount ofnd as Africa.


    It should be feasible, but in Rends Craftmasters.


    The presenter talked about ''travel tours'' like there wasn''t a war on.


    The ''version of the Silk Road'' the guy had talked about was decimated in the wars, and barely functional in Zushkenar.


    RSI should know they could wave goodbye to their tour department if the tourists experienced unexpected virtual deaths and were scared away.


    Eli didn''t think they understood how much disdain VR tourists got from those who immersed themselves in the worlds – there were some yers who would definitely make it a point to attack tourist caravans if they could.


    Also, bandits everywhere.


    It was a loss.


    Unless thepany was willing to make the tour routes into safe zones anyway.


    Since some of the Rends advertisements used the tagline ''Any ce, Any battle, I ept your challenge'', Eli didn''t think the safe zones were likely.


    And this?


    What even was that argument.


    Formerly a corporate zombie, Eli could well understand that the underlying reason for the argument was money.


    Why not just ask the craftmasters?


    There was a lull in what some people would say was a quiet shouting match.


    "I''m sorry?"


    Eli blinked at the question being addressed to him. Straightening, he noticed all the eyes around the table and the holo-conference connection were on him.


    Shkav.


    He actually said that out loud.


    He tried to ignore the slight heat he felt on his cheeks.


    There was a chuckle from somewhere. Eli didn''t turn his head to look for whoever that was.


    "Are you suggesting the ''gamers'' of Rends be involved in the project?" The one arguing for hiring artisans, a mid-level executive of whatever department, frowned at Eli. "I am unsure of your expertise, but certainly you know that fantasy crafting isn''t the same as the artisanal workings of ancient history?"


    "Rends Craftmasters was first built on the foundation of realworld artisanry," Eli countered, brain scrambling for data. "The fantasy crafting cameter. I may be wrong, but weren''t you the one who mentioned that the first incarnation of Rends saw an increase of interest regarding the ancient technical trades professed within the game? How much are you willing to bet that most of those were craftmasters tranting their game expertise into realworld artistry?"


    The executive frowned deeper. "You have a point, but surely they cannot have the proficiency and knowledge needed to teach. Teaching is, after all, the point."


    "Have you looked? Sure, there are dilettantes, but any gamepany would know that for a significant number of the game poption, that kind of interest doesn''t fade quickly."


    The Rends main creative team member, Somsak Kleiner, leaned forward. "You know yers aren''t likely to want to work in a VR tourism department."


    "Maybe not. The Masters of War expansion lost a fair chunk of the Craftmasters yer-base. Even if Rends has a crafting upgrade in the future, they''ll likely have turned to other things, other games. But right now, you can still give them a chance to preserve what they loved in the game. So what do you have to lose, making the offer? At worst they would decline and scream about Rends being a sell-out, but they''re already doing that. At the very least, it will cost less than hiring artisans or programming a crafter AI. If you word it right, some of them might even return to Rends because of this."


    The executive snorted. "What crystal ball did you—"


    "You''re one of the coordinators of this tour thing, aren''t you?" A man asked. He was about Eli''s real age, mid-thirties or early forties.


    "Just hired, actually." The most they could do now was fire him on his first day. Eli could tell everyone he crossed that out of his bucket list.


    "Do you y?"


    "I do."


    "Oh," the executive sighed, with a dramatic shrug. "An expert."


    The man ignored thement. "A craftmaster?"


    "Not a craftmaster. I don''t consider myself a battler either. Besides, it''s not been a month since I started."


    "Oh," the executive hid a smile. "An ''expert''."


    He was ignored again.


    "How do you like the game so far?"


    "More challenging than I thought." That was unfortunately true, but after he said the words he felt they weren''t quite the whole truth. He tried again. "More fun than I thought."


    Yes. That was it.


    He''d seen the game as a life or death task; he expected the challenge.


    He hadn''t expected that he''d have so much fun.


    The manughed at that answer.


    Eli grinned.


    Yup. At his age, he was actually having fun in an RPG game.


    He''d never had imagined someone his age enjoying games thest time he was in his actual twenties. Gosh, he''d really been a miserable sack of sourness before, hadn''t he…


    Or maybe just too focused.


    The executive looked irritated. "If that''s over, can we return to—"


    "We''ll shelve the proposal for now, marked for added research." The leader of the visitors ended the matter. From the way the others caved, Eli determined the leader was a ''face''. As in, the official site for RSI must have at least one page with that person''s face stered over it.


    One of the assistants murmured something.


    The leader nodded. "This has been enlightening. Thank you, everyone."


    There was a susurrus of murmurs, but finally, the meeting ended.


    Sooner than some wanted, but Eli didn''t care; he quickly made a familiar round of politely insincere goodbyes and left with the rest of the coordinators.


    "I didn''t think I could be so brave as that," one of them muttered, looking at him with something like respect.


    Haha.


    Yes, he didn''t think he was so brave as well.


    He couldn''t just up and say it was an ident, so he forced a smile. "Let''s hope it doesn''t happen again."


    "Yes, exactly." The othersughed.


    Eli went home and dropped his body on the sofa with a long groan.


    *


    <em>Day 11 (in-game)</em>


    <em>Possibly out of the draculkar hignds</em>


    <em>Still lost in the U Mountains</em>


    <em>Status: needing to kill something after realizing that tour nning took more time than he anticipated</em>


    *


    It was high noon in-game when he logged into Rends.


    All the better. The yer party should''ve ransacked the bandit camp and left by now.


    Krow eeled out of the darkness, basked a moment in the light before getting to work.


    The first thing he did was take out the Bones he used for Ghostcaller.


    His Scout was now ranked Third Apprentice, giving him the skill ''Eyes of an Eagle''.


    He couldn''t see out the eyes of his spirits. But he could permanently mark on the Map the monster nests they scouted out now.


    Krow was optimistic that they''d find something.


    Some of therger bandit camps encouraged the growth of monster nests near their headquarters, for added security.


    Even a small monster nest would do.


    He just wanted to hit things a little.


    Krow watched the mothmarmot ghost take off and the greater hignd lizard scurry out of the cavern.


    Then he headed for the exit. It should be just beyond the hollow that was the gathering area for the bandits.


    Automatically taking the tunnels the Map showed him, he walked half in thought.


    Past-Eli had obsessed, in the year before the Quake, about regaining his stride in the corporate world. It hadn''t happened. It still hasn''t happened. Current-Eli''s new job was only corporate-adjacent.


    But this day was a reminder, and he knew he wasn''t a fit in that world anymore.


    Some part of him that was still the Eli of before raged at himself, for the perceived sin of throwing away all he ever wanted. Because he knew that if he desired, he could leverage this job into an RSI management position.


    Wasn''t that all that he trained for in college, for years?


    Once, the idea would have fired him up, motivated him, made him smile at the challenge.


    Now, the thought was barely lukewarm in his gut.


    It wasn''t even that the world was going to end. A management position in RSI could with some work be used to position himself on a ship to the space colonies.


    It''s just…he''d really changed, hadn''t he?


    He wasn''t sure that even if he''d chosen to stay in this world, this Earth, that he''d ever find the feeling of belonging. Even if Earth survived.


    Now, if he decided, after everything, to stay, he''d be in space.


    Which was awesome!


    But it would never be ''home''.


    He took a deep breath, feeling as if part of him had been lost.


    It was not a feeling he particrly wanted to feel.


    Something scurried to his right.


    Krow drew his weapon and aimed, a single movement, eyes narrowed.


    "Are you…the guild?" A timid voice sounded from the shadows.


    He lowered his weapon. The girl peeked out behind a rock.


    "This isn''t a ce you should be exploring. Are you lost?" Eyeing the dirty clothes and starved appearance of the siren girl, Krow lowered the gun further.


    The question offended the girl.


    "Are <em>you</em> lost?" she shot back. "The bird guild left yesterday already."


    Krow snorted.


    "I''m not with the bird guild. What''s your name? Mine''s Krow."


    "Alweli. Just Liwi."


    He was well aware that Rends was set in a past where standard government assistance for the poor was nonexistent. Even then, beggars were better off than those that roamed the wilds.


    The girl wouldn''t have survived long in the woods.


    So was there a vige nearby, maybe?


    He took out a rime-apple, offered it.


    She looked at it, tempted but wary.


    Oh. She was a siren. Krow bit into the apple, showed clearly that he chewed and swallowed. He offered the bitten fruit again.


    She waited a long moment before took it. Krow mentally revised her age to higher than the six he initially thought she was. He watched as she happily crunched into the juicy flesh.


    There was no way she was alone.


    "Do you know where this ce is? The nearest town or vige?"


    She shook her head. "Tn would know! I''ll show you."


    Krow smiled. "Okay."


    He kept his gun out, ears and eyes alert as he followed Alweli who called herself Liwi.


    Thankfully, there was no ambush.


    When they walked out into the woods, finally out the caves, Krow saw why.


    He stopped at the edge of the clearing, knowing the group would be tense.


    There was a whole collection of people with simr appearance to the girl. Simrly run-down, he meant. The group seemed to be made up of the major races in Guinsant Alliance territory – draculkar, siren, vargvir, and human.


    "Tn!" Liwi skipped to the older draculkar woman who was impressively using a low-level air spell to try and grind the chains of a wincing siren teenager to dust. "This is Krow! He''s looking for the nearest town."


    Krow tried not to sweat at all the eyes suddenly intensely trained on him.


    "I…can help with that, if you want?"