Dusty was uncharacteristically quiet as they flipped through the pages of the massive tome that lay on the table in front of them.

  “It’s organised alphabetically by Skill category, of course. The Bronn-Galliad edition.” Harlowe, the badger-headed beastkin [Library Assistant], pointed to the ‘Armour’ title of the page they turned past. “And then alphabetically by Skill in those subcategories. It’s really the only way to efficiently organise them, even if it isn’t the most up-to-date. Of course, arguments can be m-”

  Marie wasn’t even taking all the information in. The size of the book - the amount of Skills it catalogued. The level of w-

  “Hold on.” Dusty slapped Marie’s hand as she was mid-turn. “Look! [Armour Up]! What does it say about my Skill?”

  Scanning the text for a few moments, Dusty made a small noise of surprise.

  “I’ll eventually be able to call my weapon and shield with it too?”

  Harlowe came round the table to check the information.

  “It seems so, Miss Brow. By level 30 usually. Not much data on it after that. If you surpass that point the library would be keen to hear of any further improvements to the Skill to update future editions.

  “Sure thing, stripes.”

  Marie was still absorbing the information, but what the badger-kin had said broke through to her.

  “Did you say Skills can do more things as you grow in levels?”

  Harlowe nodded as Dusty continued to scan the Armour section of the book.

  “All Skills tend to improve in some manner. Even if they don’t become a new rank - [Lesser Strength] to [Strength] to [Enhanced Strength] and so on - some just get stronger or more wide-ranging. For example, my [Instant Copy] can currently manage a page or so of text; when I get to level 20 I would expect multiple pages, and to be able to duplicate paintings or sketches too. At higher levels I could copy entire books!”

  That thought sent him off into a blissful reverie until Marie asked another question.

  “Do you know what [Glimpse of the Forgotten] does at higher levels?”

  Marie felt the Skill ready to call on, but didn’t activate it.

  “Hmm? Oh, probably. I can look it up. Why do you care about [Scholar] Skills?”

  Marie gave him a flat stare.

  “To know what I might be able to do with it when I level.”

  “...I thought you were an adventurer.”

  “I was a [Scholar] too. Until it merged with my… well until it turned into [Ruins Delver].”

  “That sounds like a fascinating progression. What was the oth-”

  “Can we focus on my question rather than insulting my capabilities please?”

  It was hard to tell if the youthful badger-man was flushing under his fur, but she could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

  “Of course, Miss Marie. Let me just grab the ‘S’ volume.” He dragged a huge tome over from some nearby shelves. Only the ‘M’ volume was bigger. “Here we go.” He opened it to a bookmarked section. “Scholar. [Quick Lookup: Glimpse of the Forgotten].” His hand snapped out and instantly turned dozens of pages and his finger darted to a section on the right-hand side. “Glimpse of the Forgotten. Oh. See under ‘Historian’. Sorry about that.”

  His [Quick Lookup] Skill didn't seem to need any time to recover, and it actually took longer for him to swap the volumes over than it did for him to find her Skill in it.

  “Here we go. Glimpse of the Forgotten: Grants the ability to see into the past of an object or location. Effects seem strongest when the object or location has been lost to living memory. Initial uses reportedly grant a vague impression of the object or location’s original condition, rising in detail with levels. At higher levels (usually level 20 and onwards), users report the ability to see further back into the object or location’s past as the duration increases. Reliable reports indicate that past level 30 entire lost texts can be read. Unreliable reports indicate that past level 40 inhabitants of the locations or users of the objects are able to be seen. In all instances, duration and ability to navigate through the images increase with level. Found in the ‘research’ family of Skills. Most often found with [Historians] but also baseline [Scholars], [Seers], [Antiquarians] and [Archaeologists]. T-”

  “Hold on, did you say [Archaeologists]?” Marie’s hand clamped down on the beastkin’s arm with white-knuckle strength.

  “Ouch. Please Miss Marie, not so hard.” He winced as she relinquished her grip. “Yes I said [Archaeologist]. It’s not a common class but I’m pretty sure it develops from the [Scholar] branch.”

  Inside, Marie couldn’t tell whether she was ecstatic or fuming.

  If it exists, then I can obtain it. But why have I not already achieved it?

  The answer came to her as soon as she thought on it.

  Because I have not earned it in this world. To study it all over again - surely I will not have to spend years… Becoming a [Secretary] just took working as one. Think of the Skills…

  “I am sorry, Harlowe. I was not expecting that.”

  He gave an uneasy smile.

  “Think nothing of it, Miss. I owe you anyway - by way of an apology for my… misjudgements of you. Both today and when you first came. After you left the coin, Lady Kypria made me aware of my laxity of duty. I’m sorry that I reacted so… enthusiastically when you eventually came back.”

  Marie threw off the urge to shudder as she remembered the crowd of excited [Librarians] and the crush of bodies. The badger-headed beastkin wore a pained smile.

  “I will be more diligent and discerning and discreet and appropriate in my duties in the future, as the Chief has insisted.”

  As unpleasant as it was, the memory reminded her of the other reason she’d come to the library.

  “It is in the past, Harlowe. Behind us. What I would like to ask you today is if you can help me with Napoleon.”

  “The undead familiar?” Harlowe glanced down at the skeletal hound who sat, patiently. None of the library staff seemed to have much of an issue with his nature. “In what manner can I assist?”

  “He’s broke.” Dusty chimed in from where she was still scouring the ‘Armour’ section of the A volume. “Hey. Look at this one. [Armour Weight Control]: A rare Skill which enables the user to increase or decrease the weight of their armour, allowing enhanced movement or improved resistance to forced movement. At higher levels, the effects increase, but individual armour pieces may be affected differently, allowing more momentum to be put into blows or enabling acrobatic feats. One confirmed instance of use in an individual above level 50 showcased their ability to reduce the armour’s weight to a point that effectively counteracted the wearer’s weight, allowing them a limited form of flight. Found in the ‘combat’ family of Skills. Almost all instances found in [Vanguards] and [Lineholders], although others of classes derived from baseline [Soldiers] and [Fighters] can gain this Skill.” The tabaxi looked over to where Marie and Harlowe listened politely, her eyes wide. “Imagine how amazing that would be.”

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  As the [Resonance Striker] returned to poring through the text, Marie gestured to her.

  “She may be blunt and easily distracted, but she is not wrong. Napoleon has a fracture in his thighbone. Linea said she would ask around for anyone with a suitable spell, but I wondered if there were any Skills that would help...”

  —

  By the time they’d checked the tomes on Healing, Necromancy, Restoration, Reanimation, Constructs, Transmutation and even Golems, Harlowe was wheezing from the exertion, but they’d identified a few of the likelier options that Marie might find in Wayfarrow to help Napoleon. The badger-beastkin leaned heavily on the edge of the desk.

  “I wonder… if there’s a… [Book Weight Control].”

  “I did offer to help…”

  “No…I owed you… for before.”

  Despite the success of the research, Marie didn’t quite know how to go about finding people with the Skills they’d identified, but as she pulled Dusty away from the W volume and the pages of Weapons Skills, and picked up the poor, patient Napoleon, the [Library Assistant] promised to keep his eyes and ears open for anything that could help.

  “Merci, Harlowe. I am certain we will be back many times to inspect these. As will others when the word gets out that you have them. We will note any changes in the Skills that were not listed and I will write them up for you, but for now we have other tasks.”

  They had been looking for Skills to help Napoleon, but with Harlowe’s ability to rapidly search the texts, they’d deviated to check a few of their other abilities. Not all of them of course - there hadn’t been time and Harlow didn’t have the stamina, but in the course of it they’d found two of their Skills unlisted, as far as they could tell. [Echoing Strikes] for Dusty, and [Guild: Efficient Reciprocity] for Marie. Even a more basic [Efficient Reciprocity] hadn’t been listed.

  Perhaps the reciprocity comes into moments like this?

  Both women blinked as they stepped out from the arched entrance and came back into the sun, having spent far longer than they’d planned in amongst the books.

  It was late afternoon, and though the heat was not oppressive, it was less comfortable than the cool shade of the library.

  “Where are we heading next, Specs?”

  “To deal with the goblin issue.”

  “Great! Not to change your mind, but I thought you said you weren’t up for another fight though.”

  “It won’t be that kind of battle.”

  —

  The Wayfarrow town hall wasn’t as tall as the library, or as extensive as the public baths complex, or as imposing as the Adventurer’s Guild, but it was more ornate than the other three combined.

  Climbing the sandstone steps to entrance doors large enough to dwarf even Brunalda, Marie (still carrying Napoleon) and Dusty passed the spotless columns of the portico that sheltered the entryway.

  Despite the opulence that had gone into its design, with carvings depicting monsters and myths alongside representations of the local guilds crests embossed on the walls, and a motto that was too high up to be legible from where they stood, behind it all Marie’s trained eye picked out the truth behind the decoration: that this building was possibly the most solidly-built in the town. She whispered as she climbed.

  “[Glimpse of the Forgotten].”

  It’d been a while since she’d used the Skill, having been living in civilisation rather than a ruin, and true to what she’d read at the library, the effects were far less pronounced, even though she’d grown in levels. Still, behind the facade of refined culture, glowing lines of light that passed into the stone showed where great rents had been torn out of the columns, or where some had collapsed entirely. There had been gargoyles, once, much as she’d expect to find back on Earth, though the forms and faces more closely resembled local beasts, or perhaps, allagi…

  The power faded as they passed into the interior, but not before she saw the backs of the half-open doors, and the glowing form of great splinters where some creature with claws as large as she was must have gouged into the feet-thick wood.

  Approaching a desk - it seemed half her time recently had been spent talking to receptionists of some sort - she made herself known to the man on duty, who could have appeared human had it not been for the faint hint of scales around his neck and webbed fingers.

  “Marie of the Adventurer’s Guild. Here to request funds for a Silver-ranked mission.”

  She’d been briefed on the basic process by Greeleena, and waited for the form she’d need to fill in and submit for the council’s adjudication, but to her surprise the man handed her nothing, and instead tilted his head. It took her a moment to realise he must have activated some kind of Skill. He flinched as he noticed Napoleon in her arms but focused on her.

  “You are in luck, Miss. The council is in session this afternoon. Would you care to wait and make the request in-person? They should be finished with their current topic of conversation in a few minutes.”

  Nodding her thanks, she retreated to a chair with Dusty, and put Napoleon down to give her arms a break. Even if he wasn’t heavy, he was… well… all bones. She turned to her companion.

  “Who is on the council?”

  There was silence for a moment, then Dusty gave a start.

  “You were asking me? No idea. Well, there’s the [Mayor] I suppose.”

  “Is there anything I should know about him?”

  “Er, he’s human? I think. I’ve not met him.”

  Marie tried not to roll her eyes.

  “How many are there?”

  “Um. Five? Six? Less than ten I should imagine.”

  “Dusty.”

  “Yes?”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “Shut up.”

  When they entered the room a short while later, a plush carpet cushioned the sound of her footsteps, Marie glanced round a well-appointed chamber, illuminated by gently glowing stones set into wall sconces and cooled to a pleasant temperature by a breeze that had no obvious source. Napoleon entered silently at her heels and went unnoticed in the mood lighting as he sat in her shadow, with Dusty bringing up the rear of their trio.

  Five figures sat around a table, with a sixth chair standing empty. Taking note of the councillors she found a variety of men and women in their middle years, but one face stood out.

  For a moment, Lord Entoll stared back at her without recognition, despite the fact that it had been less than a week, and then, slowly but surely, a frown began to grow.

  It didn’t take long for the expression to shift to one of irritation, and then actual anger, though he said nothing. He sat and listened to the receptionist who came in to announce them.

  A man in the centre, in fine clothes and with a glaringly garish amulet around his neck, remained seated as he dismissed the receptionist, and spoke as the doors to the chamber closed, cutting them off from the outside world.

  “Greetings, Marie, Dusty. How may Wayfarrow Council be of assistance to the Adventurer’s Guild? Has there been word on the [Bandit] situation?”

  Marie took a step forward, the flushed neck of Lord Entoll in the corner of her vision.

  “We have not heard from the Spellswords or Evermore’s Flame yet, Sir. I am afraid we are here on other business.”

  “Afraid eh? That doesn’t sound good.”

  Then Lord Entoll did speak up.

  “I would counsel against making any snap decisions, [Mayor] Atherton.” His voice was cold. Tight. “I’ve come across this girl before. Might I suggest starting by confirming her credentials? She passed herself off as a member of the guild previously, but she was not a member as of my last interaction with her.”

  The expression that passed over the mayor’s face wasn’t surprised. It was barely even interested.

  “Is that true, miss? Can you provide some identification please. Your guild disc should suffice.”

  Pulling out a round token the size of an old-fashioned pocket watch from around her neck, Marie held it in the palm of her hand and stepped forwards to display it to the older gentleman.

  “I was not a member of the guild at the time, [Mayor] Atherton. I did not claim to be. I have since passed the assessment to become a Bronze-ranked adventurer and I also work as a [Secretary] for the guild.”

  Entoll’s eyes narrowed and filled with hate.

  “Prove it.”

  It was hard to maintain a professional approach with the loathsome noble sneering at her, but Marie put her adventurer identification away and held out her hand again.

  “[Guild Seal: Wayfarrow Adventurer’s Guild].”

  The mark glowed softly, hovering an inch above the skin.

  “Yes that’s quite suitable.” The mayor waved her hand away from the table. “Don’t put it on anything - they’re a bastard to get off. Satisfied Entoll? Ho- what’s the matter? Do you need a drink man? Grab a glass of wine. Get one for me too.”

  The rest of the table watched as the middle-aged lord pushed his chair back and jerked upright before heading over to a cabinet and rummaging around for a minute. By the time he made his way back with two glasses full of a sparkling purple liquid, his nostrils had stopped flaring and his face was unreadable.

  But as the rest of the room had watched him go and return, Marie had taken the opportunity to study them.

  [Basic Level Analysis]

  None of the other four councillors were below level 20, in their main class at least. She got a sense that most had a secondary class: the [Mayor], a member of the Watch, and a beastkin in plain but functional robes certainly did. Even Lord Entoll.

  The only one that broke the trend was the solitary tabaxi amongst them.

  Dark fur covered the plumpest body she’d seen on a cat-person. Being in a remote town heavily reliant on manual labour and physical industry, she hadn’t seen many with the wealth or opportunity to become overweight. The council member lounging back in his chair, clad in loose silk - save where it strained against his belly - with rolls of skin around his neck and wrists and probably ankles too, was… there was no other word for it. Fat.

  He was also, if her Skill were to be believed, the only one above level 30. The highest in the room, and by some way. Only the beastkin-woman opposite him, with a deer-like head, began to come close.

  The woman in the uniform of the Watch and a badge that indicated she was a Captain was possibly the lowest of them. About on a level with Dusty.

  All above her own range.

  And not an allagi amongst them.

  The tabaxi man opened his mouth as Lord Entoll returned and a deep, rich voice rolled out.

  “What, Tilsten, none for us?”

  The noble’s eye twitched as he sat down, making no comment, and the tabaxi tutted in mock disapproval.

  “Well in that case, I’d better see to it myself. [Gracious Hospitality].”

  Identical glasses of wine appeared in front of each of the other councillors, and two on the edge of the table nearest Marie and Dusty. The tabaxi waved them forwards to take it even as the [Watch Captain] pushed hers away.

  “Well, now that we’re settled in a civilised manner,” the [Mayor] said, “what was it the guild wanted to bring to our attention?”

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