Whatever was in the hangover cure, it tasted like effervescent blackcurrant and liquid gold. It went down like drinking the first rays of the dawn sun, quenching the malicious thirst that had snuck up on you and spreading a cool ocean mist throughout your body.

  The morning after the battle with the goblins, Marie silently thanked whichever gods there might be in this universe that she’d found Madame Freya, and lounged back into the guild’s armchair, leaving Napoleon to nose around a stack of arrows that a young Biff had dropped off, courtesy of a [Fletcher] Rudi had found. Ten seconds later he was bored with the sticks that weren’t being thrown, and returned to crunching a bone that was the size of his skull, but Marie was focused on something else.

  A thin strip of cloth that bound his cracked leg together.

  How do you repair something that is dead? Superglue? But where would I even…

  At the sight of him gnawing on his bone, a rumbling informed Marie the tavern food the night before hadn’t made up for a day of hard activity, and with Greeleena not yet on duty, she went to the compact kitchen and began to throw a few leftovers into a pan.

  By the time the sausages and mushrooms were sizzling away, a now-familiar voice drew Marie back to the reception, and she waved Rudi off to deal with the adventurer herself.

  “Morning Specs. Just in to pick up my coin. How much did I earn anyway?”

  Marie frowned over the rim of her glasses at the grey-furred cat woman leaning on the counter with a nonchalance that belied the obvious hangover she was suffering from.

  She tapped the chalk board she’d installed behind the reception.

  “Oh come on little miss [Scout], don’t make your new buddy read.”

  Sighing, Marie pulled over the quest ledger, made a note of Dusty’s name and then marked it off as paid. She grabbed the petty cash bag from under the counter and counted out eight gold coins and five silver.

  When she pushed them over to the tabaxi the cat-woman’s eyes widened.

  “Hey, that’s not half bad.”

  It was a significant amount of the money that Marie had set aside - vital funds from the initial business the guild was doing and the other taxes it had started enforcing - but there had been no one else to foot the bill.

  Perhaps a mistake to do the work before securing the payment…

  “I have taken the guild’s cut already. It is the same rate as before, but we now apply it to all loot found. It has been getting… mixed responses.”

  “Hey, if this is what we get for a half-day sign me up again when there’s something on. Maybe this’ll stop Gordan’s whinging.”

  “So long as you do not tell him what you spent at the Grinning Broccsus last night?”

  Dusty’s face fell.

  “Don’t remind me. Now… about those hangover cures you mentioned.”

  A hint of a smirk appeared in the corner of Marie’s mouth.

  “Two gold.”

  Taking her bar tab and the hangover cure into account, Dusty wouldn’t be bringing home much more than Ulfran had. Which seemed somehow like a great disservice to her Skills and a great justice for karma at the same time.

  “Ouch. That much? Come on goblin-killer. How about a special deal for your new best friend?”

  “I could add on an Annoying Adventurer tax…”

  Dusty laughed, then winced.

  “Oh cheer up Specs. You can’t feel worse than I do right now.”

  The [Resonance Striker] pushed two gold pieces across the counter, and Marie pocketed them directly, along with another few silver, and then struck her own name off the quest payment list. The allagi would be in to collect theirs later.

  As she watched the tabaxi guzzling down the miracle cure with evident relief, she took pity on the woman and pushed one of her own coins over.

  “Here. For my share of the drinks.”

  Holding up a finger until she’d finished the hangover cure, the tabaxi gave a huge sigh of relief as the effects visibly rippled through her.

  “Ooh. Like a glass of cold milk but a hundred times better. I could get used to that kind of feeling.” She flicked the gold coin back to Marie without comment. “Speaking of feelings - you over your depressing little introspective state from last night?”

  The corner of Marie’s eye wrinkled as she frowned. It turned out that [Improved Recall] cut both ways. Memories of the visceral combat had continued to trouble her as she’d slept - in her dreams - and when she’d woken it had occasionally intruded into her conscious thoughts as she went about her morning routine. But, through the clarity afforded by what little time and distance she’d had, and reviewing what had happened through the Skill, whenever she considered the situation she’d been in, and what the goblins had done, she didn’t see any point at which she wished she would have changed her actions.

  Well, maybe failing to dodge the one with the sword.

  She rubbed at her back.

  “I did not like the blood. Nor do I like how it felt to kill something. It was brutal and messy.”

  Now it was Dusty's turn to frown.

  “Hey now. I didn't say I liked that either. I'm not some sort of blood-crazed [Berserker] psychopath. But surely you have to admit the whole thing made you feel more alive, no?” She waved a hand. “Killing things just sort of happens when you're in this business - it's not the goal. Didn't you enjoy the rush? The sense of adventure? Don't tell me you're having second thoughts.”

  “I did not say I regret what we did, because I do not. But it seems that it should be given many thoughts. At the moment, these are mine: I will not hesitate to defend myself, and I will not avoid my line of work for fear of danger or bloodshed.”

  “Spoken like a true [Adventurer]. Good on you.” Dusty grinned. “Fancy getting a few more folks together and going back to take on the rest of them? We probably only saw half their fighters yesterday so we might have to leave your Bronze-friends at home.”

  “I said I would not shy away from my duties, not that I would run back out into battle, Dusty. Besides, I can not afford to pay for a Silver-ranked team to go out yet. Who would normally fund the clearing of goblins?”

  “The council.” Dusty said without a second’s hesitation.

  “Then I believe I have another stop to make on my rounds today.”

  “Need any help? I can stick around if there’s anything to do.”

  Marie heard the unspoken request.

  “If your family can spare y-”

  “Yup! Let’s go.”

  “I am not paying you for thi-”

  “I know - let's go!”

  As Marie gathered her things, the dark-furred form of [Guildmaster] Thror descended the main staircase. He gave a nod of recognition to Dusty, and then as he turned to check the fireplace for any communal breakfast he stopped, and glanced down to the carpet beside it, and the pile of splintered white shards and dust that had been Napoleon’s breakfast-bone.

  He didn’t say anything, but the look he gave Marie was clear enough.

  It only took a minute for her to sweep up the remains, but when she did, the expression on his face didn’t change.

  His gaze swung round to her office and knowing eyes narrowed, but before he could turn back to say anything, Marie was already dragging Dusty out of the guild, with Napoleon clicking along in tow.

  I’ll find somewhere soon. I just need un peu plus gold.

  “Woah, what’s the rush? Not that I’m complaining. Where we off to?”

  —

  The next hour was spent ignoring the tantalising scents and sights of the market district as Marie visited the vendors and merchants and crafters who had signed up to the guild’s new programme. Once she’d explained her idea to them, they were happy to let her attach the guild’s symbol to their cart or sign or storefront, and to offer the discounts to anyone who showed their guild disc. A fact that Dusty immediately took advantage of.

  The fish-filled pastries she munched on were tempting, but Marie had a job to do.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  She checked in with Perdy, and after a brief haggle, traded him all the flowers Ashe had managed to find the previous day in exchange for a trial of the prospective [Alchemists] and his evaluation and initial lessons for the most promising of them over the next few days.

  Finding the candidates to inform took longer.

  Initially, Osric, the boar-headed beastkin [Apothecary], and the [Chef], Edric, were easy to locate - both being at work. It was the two female members of the group - Rowan the [Hedge Witch] and Drifting Ember the [Mage] - that proved difficult to find.

  It took running into one of Algar’s hunting group to get word of where the young witch would be, and although finding the girl outside the southern entrance to the town, harvesting supplies, was promising for her interest in alchemy, it ate up time that Marie had been hoping to get other things done in. And as the sun passed its zenith, Marie allowed Dusty to pull her over to a cart serving kebabs and then to sit down in front of a street performer with a battered lute but a rich voice.

  As the musician sang some ballard of love and hope and betrayal, Marie took a few mouthfuls of the succulent, spiced meat wrap and checked Napoleon’s leg. The binding cloth was coming loose, and it looked like the splintered bone might be rubbing. She rebound it, tighter this time, and sighed.

  “Why did it give me Skills for fighting, and not to fix poor Boney?”

  Dusty’s head swivelled over from the performance to her new companion-in-arms.

  “You levelled then?”

  “My [Scout] class. Yes. But all my Skills seem like ones to be used in combat.”

  “Well we were fighting, what did you expect? But…all your Skills? Plural? How many did you get?”

  “Three. From two levels.”

  Dusty blinked.

  “You must’ve been close to a level up already… or… that’s a lot.” Her voice dropped to a mutter as she spoke almost to herself. “even then, to reach level 19. was one of the goblins higher than we thought? how long were we fighting for…” After a moment she looked up. “What did you get?”

  Marie licked some juice off her fingers.

  “[Snap Kick], [Tactical Reposition (Evasive Roll)], and [Staggering Blows].”

  “Hey, that sounds like a solid set of Skills. Nothing ground-breaking perhaps - you’ll probably get something good next level - but I know of [Snap Kick].”

  Marie turned away from her meal for a minute. She hadn’t had a chance to try out her new abilities.

  “Is it good?”

  “My friend used it all the time. It’s quick. Doesn’t hit that hard - it’s not like a [Power Strike] or a [Mighty Blow] - but it doesn’t take long to recharge. Good for knocking someone back a step or making them stumble if you hit the right spot at the right time. Chiritta could use it every ten seconds or so I think, but she was a higher level than you.”

  “Oh! I know her! The [Monk], yes?”

  “[Itinerant Monk]. She was round here years ago but she’s a wanderer. Where did you meet her?”

  “Here! She went with Sirrocohon’s Spellswords and Evermore’s Flame and the others to hunt the [Bandits].”

  “Get out of town. I didn’t know she was back! Wait. What’s this about [Bandits]?”

  Over the rest of their lunch, Marie filled the [Resonance Striker] in about the quest to hunt down the bandits that had been spotted in the south. The tabaxi’s grin of excitement that Chiritta was around again gradually turned into a pout.

  “I’m missing out on all the fun. I knew I should have pushed back when Gordan said we should wait until the kitts were older.”

  For a moment, Marie hesitated, but as Napoleon pawed at the scraps of meat and vegetables that had fallen from her wrap, she pushed ahead.

  “Do you not enjoy spending time with your family?”

  Dusty looked up from licking the remnants of her lunch from her paws, eyebrows raising.

  “Of course I do. I love them. But… I’m an adventurer. I’m a Silver-rank. We’re not built to stay at home and teach and clean up and cook and wash and tidy. Well, a couple of my Skills do help, weirdly, but I can’t grow as a [Resonance Striker] looking after children all day and then sitting down to play cards with Gordan in the evening.”

  A question had been growing in Marie’s mind, and, half-afraid of the answer, she chanced asking it.

  “Do you not get a… [Mother] class? Or something like that?”

  The tabaxi’s expression turned puzzled.

  “[Mother]? I’ve not heard of that as a class. Is it a thing where you’re from?”

  “Where I’m… no. I do not know of anyone who has it. I was just wondering.”

  Dusty’s nose wrinkled.

  “Being a mother is just… something you do. Well, something I did. It’s not a… calling. Not for me at least. It’s work, but it’s not work, if you know what I mean. I’ve come across [Carers] and [Childminders]. We even looked at getting a [Governess] for the kitts for a while but it was too expensive. Is that more what you meant?”

  Giving a noncommittal grunt, Marie stood up and tossed the giant leaf the lunch had been wrapped in into a wooden bin.

  “Perhaps. Would it help, do you think, to get a class like that? I have heard that it is harder to level if you get many classes.”

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t need anything to be a mother. There are probably Skills that would help, but that’s not really who I am. Not who I want to be. I mean, I wanted to be a mother. I am a mother. But it doesn’t… define who I am. If that makes sense.”

  “I think so.”

  As the tabaxi finished up and inspected the bandage on Napoleon’s leg, Marie checked off her mental list and informed her companion of the next destination.

  Dusty’s face fell.

  —

  It should have been obvious really. Perhaps because it had been in the back of her mind, it hadn’t come to the fore, but as soon as they walked into the library Marie caught sight of the last alchemy candidate she’d been looking for.

  “Drifting?”

  The younger, if not by much, tabaxi sat at a desk with a weighty tome open in front of her. Tan coloured ears twitched at her name, but it must not have registered as she didn’t look up.

  “Drifting Ember?”

  It took leaning over the table opposite the [Mage] and repeating her name a third time to get through to the woman.

  “Sorry. Did you need something?”

  Marie ignored Dusty muttering ‘one point against’ behind her.

  “I’m Marie, from the Adventurer’s Guild.”

  “Oh right - about the job!”

  “About the application for a job. Trial run with Perdy at his brew… at his shop. Any afternoon or evening in the next three days. It should take about three or four hours. If he judges your efforts well, we can discuss an interview.”

  The tabaxi’s face soured.

  “Can’t I just look up the recipes and come try them out at the guild?”

  Two points against.

  Marie’s thoughts echoed Dusty’s snigger.

  “If you are able to produce healing potions, or gain the [Alchemist] class yourself you are welcome to skip the preliminary stage. But the guild will not be providing free materials for anyone to play around at making potions with.”

  Mumbling about unnecessary restrictions and demanding workplaces, the tabaxi woman slunk off to the shelves, presumably to see if she could learn to be an [Alchemist] from a book. Marie was half tempted to follow her, but she had her own tasks to do.

  This time, as she approached the library’s front desk, the man on duty was aware of her presence, and the badger-headed beastkin raised a hand in greeting. His grin showed teeth too large for Marie to feel completely at-ease, and his hushed voice echoing off the nearby shelves didn’t improve the situation.

  But he was trying to be friendly. Probably to make up for causing such a furore before.

  “Hey there Maire. Got any more priceless treasures for us today?”

  She smiled back.

  “I was hoping you might have some for me. How is the investigation into the chest going.”

  His grin turned into more of a wince.

  “I’ll let you talk to the Chief about that.”

  She set off in the direction he pointed out with Napoleon and Dusty, and the [Resonance Striker] finally showed a modicum of interest.

  “Chests? Treasure? That’s something I can get behind.”

  The room in question was the same one she’d been questioned in by the town watch. It looked a lot different now though. Gone were the boxes and dark corners and serious-faced guards; replacing them were tables and glowing runes and a handful of [Librarians], [Scholars] and [Archivists] clustered around the centre of focus: a large black chest.

  “Ooh, now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  Dusty edged as close as she could to the assorted members of the library, who gave way with surprise.

  “Hello everyone. My apologies for the interruption. I just wanted to see if there had been any progress.”

  One of the [Scholars] - a man in his fifties with arms thin enough to show all his veins bowed his head.

  Come on [Improved Recall]... Benedict.

  “No need for apologies Miss Marie. We are still all in your debt here. The coins were a blessing, and the other pieces, well, the Chief won’t even let us see them yet. When you walked in here with this though…the chest is an opportunity the likes of which I personally have never seen before.”

  “You are welcome, Benedict. Is that a good thing?”

  The man hesitated and turned to his colleagues. Another, a woman with patchy dark hair grimaced.

  “For some of us it has proven beneficial. Two of our researchers and one of the other scholars levelled from their attempts to open it…”

  “... but we’ve been unsuccessful so far.”

  Dusty glanced round the group.

  “What? You can’t open this?” She took a step forward and tipped it onto its edge to examine the faint outline of a lock. “You need a [Rogue] for these kinds of things - not a bunch of bookworms. No offence. You could probably get [Burglar] to try if you could make sure they didn’t run off with it. What’s so special about it?”

  One of the younger [Librarians] in the room leaned forward and cleared his throat.

  “Well, it is perhaps the most significant item that Miss Marie - or anyone else in more than a thousand years - brought out of the Ruins of Corratheon.”

  Dusty leaped back with a hiss as if her hands had been burned, the chest dropping to the table with a dull thud that echoed round the room.

  “What in the name of soiled paws, Marie!”

  Rapid clanking filled the air as bands of armour snapped around the tabaxi and although her spear wasn’t to hand, Dusty picked up a chair as though it were made of paper and pointed it at the chest.

  Marie snorted with laughter.

  “It’s not funny, Specs. Why isn’t it being contained? Please don’t tell the Watch that I touched it. If my s-”

  “Mon dieu. Calm yourself.” Marie said, lightly slapping the tabaxi on the back of her armoured head. “It has all been cleared.”

  She stepped forwards herself and righted the chest from where it had fallen onto its back.

  Benedict reasserted his control of the situation.

  “It is indeed, safe. At least as far as anybody has been able to tell. As I was saying, we have been unsuccessful so far. I tried [Scholar’s Insight]. [Find the Secrets Within] failed. Even the Chief didn’t get anywhere and she used [Borrowed Skill: Advanced Lockpicking]. We do have an assistant with [Mantle of the Storyteller] reading through all the rogue-centric books we have, but,” he looked at Dusty who was dismissing her armour, still trembling, “we also thought that the best bet would be [Expert Lockpicking] or a [Rogue] - likely level thirty or higher.”

  “Either that, or wait for Intressa to get back.” The patch-haired woman added. “She’s the best spellcaster we have, but she’s away in the capital. None of the rest of us can cast {Greater Appraisal}. She’s the only one who knows {Scrying} too, so we can’t show her the chest remotely. She’s meant to be returning from her trip with the group that we’re sending out next week, so she won’t be around for a while. Sorry.”

  And no one will be travelling that way at all until we clear the goblins out.

  “It is not your fault… Linea. I could not open it either.”

  Placated, the [Scholars] and [Librarians] returned to their investigation of the other pieces Marie had given them from the cursed city - mostly kitchenware, and the crumbling book. Even with their Skills and combined knowledge, they expected the process to take months. But there was one thing from Forcastera that she wasn’t fully sharing with them - besides whatever was in the chest of course. Before they could grow too distracted, she laid a hand on the woman’s arm.

  “Linea - you said she was the only one able to cast those spells, but are there others amongst you who can do magic?”

  “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  Marie nodded down to Napoleon waiting like a good undead dog at her heel.

  “Boney got injured yesterday in a fight and, although I did not get any Skills that I think will help heal his leg, I wondered if there might be some magic that could repair it?”

  Linea gave a frown as she considered the skeletal hound, and then went to check something with one of her colleagues as Dusty overcame her hesitation and began sniffing around the black chest. After a brief consultation, the librarian came back.

  “I’m not sure, Miss Marie. We can ask around but necromancy spells are unusual, even if they aren’t illegal. You’d be better off seeking out a healer with [Bonesetting] or something similar. I don’t know all of the Skills you could ask around for but we could look them up if you like?”

  “I would be most grateful. But I do not want to take up more of your time. If you tell me where the books are and what they are I will be happy to do some research myself. It is a while since I have had a chance to do some studying.”

  “Of course Miss Marie. We have an extensive Skill Encyclopedia collection you may peruse.”

  A choking sound came from Dusty Brow as she spun round from the chest.

  “Wait. What?”

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