Blake sat at a table across from three Silk Fan Trading Guild recruiters. The three of them wore yellow robes and sat in nearly an identical position to each other. In the old Earth, they probably would’ve qualified as East Asian, but now, they were just Cohongs.

  But the three of them were less interesting than the entourage they had with them. There were a few guards wearing lamellar armour and carrying spears with a yellow tassel attached to the tip, and a few servants, including the sweeper who Blake had encountered earlier in the city. He still held his broom, and he watched Blake cautiously.

  “I presume you know who we are,” one of the three men sitting across from Blake said. He wore a rank seal, indicating that he was a Core Formation stage three cultivator.

  “Yeah.” Blake nodded. “But I’m…still a little iffy on the decorum. Are you guys…brothers or something? I mean, not blood brothers, but…well, I had been hanging out with a martial sect for the last six months. I was hoping some of their habits wouldn’t rub off, but what can I say?”

  “We are no sect,” a different recruiter said. He was at Core Formation stage two. “Mr. Ekkson, is it?”

  “Yeah, but to be honest, I prefer to be called Blake.” He’d heard that Cohongs struggled to pronounce some words, but these guys seemed perfectly capable.

  “Then we shall call you Mr. Blake for the time being,” said the stage three cultivator. “ ‘Mister’ is fitting for someone wearing a redcloak.”

  “What should I call you?” Blake asked. Technically, this was a job interview. He’d never had any of those before the Integration, of course, but Mom had done them plenty. They were supposed to be stressful.

  And he wanted to get on that manaship more than anything.

  “I am called Stone Moon, the Deputy Master of the guild,” said the stage three cultivator. “It is respectful to refer to someone by their guild title, and you will receive yours in no time when working with us. The only other title of importance is the Master’s—and you will refer to him as Master Golden Locust. He is not currently present, but he is the head Hong-Master of our trading guild.”

  “Understood,” Blake replied. He had so many questions he wanted to ask them, but as it stood right now, he just needed to land this position.

  “We have been hearing about your successes as a hunter,” said the third Silk Fan recruiter. He retrieved a scroll from his storage ring and unfurled it, then dragged his finger across a list of items—the Cohongs wrote from right to left, and in vertical columns. “Although there were a few scandals near the end, a recommendation from Prince Arald is not something to take lightly.”

  “Let us not get too far ahead of ourselves,” said Stone Moon. “With the Green Bears gone and the infrastructure of the Hunter’s Sect scattered to the wind, there is an opportunity to sink our fangs into the monster hunting business. We are looking for assistance in setting up a new branch of the guild.”

  Blake raised his eyebrows. “And you want me to help?”

  “Correct.”

  “Excuse my confusion, sir, but I’m hardly the most experienced when it comes to setting up guild branches, or, frankly, the business of monster hunting in general.”

  “We are aware. But there are many guilds looking to fill the power vacuum, and there aren’t many experienced hunters left in the region. Besides, given the reputation of one such as yourself, it should not be too much of a challenge.” Stone Moon laced his fingers together. “It will start simple. We are offering guided hunting expeditions to wealthy visitors.”

  Blake breathed out a puff of air. “Expeditions?”

  “We will never be able to compete with the ground-based martial sects at first, but we can fill a niche. There are many wealthy Cohongs and Nords who have heard of Shell, and would love to explore it in a guided expedition. We would leverage the expertise of a local such as yourself.”

  Leading hunting expeditions for wealthy Cohong guild leaders and sect masters? Something about that felt like a recipe for disaster, but…

  Just accept the job, Ethbin said inside his mind. There’s no other way you’re getting yourself onto the manaship easily.

  Mingel had said something about a tournament, but he pushed that to the back of his mind.

  “Apologies for being so forward, then,” Blake said. “But what sort of compensation should I expect? ”

  “We will give you room and board on the Iron Hide,” said Stone Moon. “You will receive an allowance of three-hundred guild contribution points a month, which you can convert to hacksilver or spend at our guild amenities as you please. Moreover, you can expect generous tips from your customers.”

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  “What amenities do you have?” he asked.

  “We have some of the best crafters aboard the Iron Hide in our fold—armoursmiths and weaponsmiths—and we can give you access to the inter-guild technique libraries. If the ship’s library doesn’t have a technique slate you want, they can import it.”

  So they were like the Red Pine Hunters. But better.

  “That’s acceptable, then,” Blake said.

  “Very good,” Stone Moon replied. He glanced back at the entourage behind him and cast someone a nod, then turned back to Blake and said, “I expect this to be very beneficial to us both, and in truth, we were hoping for someone like you.” He motioned at Blake’s horns. “They are expecting something exotic, and although they might initially be terrified of you, they will know what the redcloak means.”

  Blake winced, but he tried not to make it too obvious, and he wiped his face clean a moment later.

  “Of course, Master Golden Locust will expect you to advance to Core Formation as soon as possible,” Stone Moon said. “Most who live aboard the manaship have reached Core Formation by the time they are thirty years old, and many sooner. It is the average among our guild members.”

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” Blake said. He wasn’t going to tell them that he was only twenty-one, going on twenty-two.

  “Very well. We will meet you at the East Gate longboat yard tomorrow morning at sunrise, and we will travel up to the Iron Hide. If you are late, we will leave without you. You are dismissed.”

  Dipping his head, Blake stood up. He glanced around the inside of the teahouse for a few seconds. There were two rows of seating booths around the edge and some smaller tables down the center, and most were occupied. Servers rushed around, depositing trays at the table with neatly arranged tea-making equipment.

  Blake had no idea what exactly any of it did. He hadn’t had a sip of tea before in his life. But all of the guests seemed to know. Most were Cohongs of some kind, but there were a few Nords as well—and that included Mingel. They had, after all, talked about meeting up after his ‘interview.’

  She was impossible to miss. Flame-orange hair with white and black stripes, tiger ears atop her head. She was sitting at a table on the opposite side of the teahouse, leaning her elbow on a table and watching Blake with curiosity. Her brown cloak draped over her shoulder, and she wore a tight wrap of fabric around her chest and baggy trousers—plus a bandolier of throwing knives overtop.

  Weaving across the teahouse, Blake approached her. He dodged a young serving girl and apologized, then turned sideways to slip between a pair of tables. The floor was clean, but it was also varnished and slightly slippery, and the last thing he needed was to make a fool of himself while the Silk Fan Traders were still watching.

  When he reached Mingel’s table, she asked, “So? Did you get the position?”

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded and gave a small but slightly cold smile. “Wonderful. You are quite literally moving up in the world.”

  “What were you saying about a tournament earlier?”

  “You are already thinking about that?” She shook her head. “Perhaps you are more of an idiot than I thought…”

  “What?”

  “Sticking your nose into trouble everywhere you go?”

  “Look, if I can get something from it…”

  She gave a soft laugh, then leaned back in her seat and fiddled with her bandolier of throwing knives. “No relaxation with you, I take it.”

  “I’m making up for lost time.”

  “Aren’t we all…” she muttered. “There are two halves of the tournament. The lower half, the ‘novices.’ Those are the guys on the ground, doing their best to get a position on the manaship. Yes, there is a cash reward, but they’re trying to get noticed by a guild or sect, and especially one from the manaship. Once they get on the manaship, they can participate in the upper tournament, where they can improve their societal standing.”

  “What’s your standing now, then?” Blake asked.

  “At the moment, I am a regular freeman. The average citizen of Nord society. Did they teach you nothing in Reeducation?”

  Now he had two people nagging him about his education. Great.

  “Right, but I’m just a thrall. How would they let me aboard the manaship?”

  “You are at the lowest rung of the social hierarchy, yes. But there is nothing to indicate your societal rank save for what people infer from you.” She tilted her head toward the Silk Fan traders, who were slowly leaving the teahouse. “The three men you were talking to, they are all Upper Freemen. The make of their robes, the material, it is something only they could afford. Your shirt, for example, with its runes and such, would make people infer you are a regular lower freeman—even if you don’t have the paperwork or identification slip in your pocket.”

  Blake nodded.

  “If you are serious about stealing the manaship,” Mingel whispered, “then you had better start improving your societal standing. You will need connections.”

  “What does the upper tournament get me, then?”

  “Money. Recognition. But most importantly, titles. If you win, you will be granted the title of Jarl—a nobleman. That will get you in the right circles.”

  “So I’ve gotta register for the tournament.” Blake nodded. “Got it.”

  “Now, Blake,” Mingel said. “I placed an order. You have plenty of time to scheme, but for now, enjoy the tea.” She raised a finger. “And don’t get into the habit of letting others pay for you. It’s not dignified to let a girl buy you tea.”

  Blake raised his eyebrows. “I thought you said you were just returning a favour.”

  “Yes. Don’t get used to it.”

  “Fates, you’re hard to read,” he muttered.

  “Idiot,” she muttered back.

  Blake put on a smug grin and leaned back in his chair. No matter what happened, at least he was moving up in the world.