Murray had a single question before selling him a copy of Advanced Art of Picking Locks and Cracking Safes by Sterling Friar.

  “You don’t plan on robbing Murray, do you, Mr. Norwood?”

  Greg wasn’t certain if he’d ever get used to the random pitch changes in the gaunt man’s voice, but he was otherwise delightful. He’d considered just absorbing the book without paying for it. Unless Murray were familiar with the practice, he would have been none the wiser. At the end of the day, a few silver was an investment he was more than happy to make, especially to keep the shopkeeper on his good side.

  “I don’t like this plan.” Isabella voiced her concerns as he stepped into the apartment again. “Brannoc asked you to stay away from the Rillons. Now you’re planning on breaking into one of their warehouses?”

  “Consider your concern noted.” Greg said before tilting his head slightly. Something was wrong. His eyes scanned the pentagonal room slowly.

  Straight couches.

  Clean coffee table.

  Smells of freshly grilled fish.

  Maeve’s random engine parts put away.

  Greg took a few steps to check the kitchen, but before he could get to it, the door to his room opened. A tall, lean Parduc stepped out and gave him a wave.

  “Ya must be Greg!” He had a far more jovial tone than the seriousness his dark fur and bright yellow eyes would have suggested. “Hydel Jerret. Maeve said ya been stayin here a bit and I might run into you when I get back.”

  “Hydel.” Greg let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and released the hilt of Light Drinker. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  “Hey, no worries.” He flashed him a grin full of sharp white teeth and waved him over. “I was just cookin’ up some lunch. Ya hungry?”

  “I could eat.” Greg followed him into the kitchen, where Hydel pulled one fish out of a pan and slapped another down. “Maeve said you work out on a boat, didn’t say what you did though.”

  “Oh, yeah, it’s not that excitin’.” He threw a few herbs in and a hunk of butter with the fish and turned to look at him. “I work on a clean-up crew. We follow ‘round ships of adventurers and harvest monsters they kill, clean up pirate ships they work over, the works.”

  “Pirates?” Greg’s eyebrows rose. “There are pirates?!”

  Parduc’s dark feline nose twitched and his brows sunk. “Course there’s pirates. Where ya been?”

  “Very smooth.”

  “Right. I’m not from around here.” Greg rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I’ve heard stories of pirates, but never actually seen any in action. How long have you been out? I’ve been here for like six months.”

  Hydel nodded. “Long trek this time. Went all the way out to Misthaven. Don’t usually last that long, but the longer the job, the better the pay.”

  Greg chuckled, leaning against the counter. He’d not considered what he was going to do when Maeve’s roommate returned. He’d have to get his own place. His mouth suddenly went very dry and a sinking feeling came over him. It was stupid, but taking that step made this all feel very…permanent.

  “See ya raided my closet.” Hydel gestured to the shirt under the heavy duster.

  “Oh, yeah.” Buy clothes. Another thing to add to the list he wasn’t prepared for. “Kinda got here under weird circumstances. Maeve said you wouldn’t mind.”

  “No worries. Somebody didn’t wear em, the woolweevils would get em.” Hydel tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at the pants that were also his. “Ya got a tail I hadn’t seen?”

  Greg snorted, causing Hydel himself to laugh.

  The two of them sat and chatted for a long time. Long enough that the thought of having to leave what had become an emotional safety net for him had almost faded. To his credit, Maeve’s roommate was more than hospitable. Hydel had informed him after they’d sat and shared their meal that, as far as he was concerned, he was more than happy to have Greg stay with them. Though, he would be taking his room and his clothing back, which was absolutely fair.

  Greg thanked him, though the longer he ruminated on the situation, the more getting out on his own made sense. When Maeve had taken him in, he was scared, alone, and somewhere deep down hoping for a chance to get back home. The fear had mostly faded, and with it that hope.

  His new life was dangerous, but more exciting than he could have possibly imagined. A half a year ago he was processing deposits for senior citizens. Now, he was apparently a chosen adventurer. The thought made him laugh aloud.

  “You alright?” Hydel planted his expensive boots on the table, crossing his legs at the ankle.

  “Yeah.” Greg shook his head. “Just reflecting on the last six months. It’s been nuts.” Greg patted the cushion and stood. “I’m gonna head out for a bit. See if I can’t get myself a new wardrobe finally. Any recommendations?”

  Hydel gave Greg a sly grin and nodded. “How much are you looking to spend?”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “I’ve got some throwaway money.” Greg shrugged. One thing he’d been able to enjoy was the quest system integrated into his UI and the rewards that came with it. More than a few times he’d picked up a quest by accident and handsomely rewarded.

  “That’s Brannoc’s jacket?”

  “Yeah, you know Brannoc too?” Greg asked.

  “Yeah, Maeve’s introduced me. He’s not a big fan of mine.” Hydel shrugged. “It’s a nice jacket though. You’re gonna wanna go down the entertainment ring. Just the other side of the casino there is a tailor shop. Called ‘The Gilded Needle’. Tell Caelom I sent you.”

  “Will do. Thanks Hydel. Good to finally meet you.”

  ###

  The Gilded Needle would need to wait. The first thing Greg needed to do was find a safe spot to go to absorb this book, and then get some sage advice about finding his own residence. His feet led him across the city to the quiet residential area on the east side, where he found Brannoc sitting on his front porch smoking his pipe.

  “Thought you were supposed to be busting drug dealers.” Brannoc grumbled as he climbed the stairs to stand across from him.

  “I was. Ran into a little issue.” Greg reached into his storage space and pulled the skill book from thin air. “You mind if I use this here?”

  Brannoc grumbled, waving his hand dismissively at him. “Kind of issue? Not the Rillon kid again?”

  “No.” Greg sat and leaned back against the rail of the porch. “Hydel is back.” He said as he cracked open the book. His teacher’s lip twitched, like a wolf holding back the urge to bare its teeth, but a semitransparent blue box popped up in the center of his vision arresting his attention.

  Advanced Lock picking:

  Would you like to absorb Advanced Lock Picking skillbook?

  Yes/No

  “It’s not a basic book.” Isabella commented, then answered the question he couldn’t ask with her husband right there. “You’ll be able to absorb it still. It’s just going to hurt like hell. Tell Bran before you do it. He’ll be able to keep you conscious.”

  Greg grimaced and glanced through the box at Brannoc who eyed him from beneath thick brows. “I might need your help with this one. It says it’s an advanced skillbook. The basic swordsmanship one wasn’t exactly pleasant…”

  “Definitely gonna pass out. Good thing you came, I guess.” Brannoc dipped the tip of his pinky finger into his burning pipe and scooped out some ash. He clenched his fist hard, yellow light seeping through the crevices between palm and fingers. When he opened the hand again, a deep purple flower petal sat in the center of his palm, which he offered to Greg. “Chew on that. Keep you awake at least. It gets too bad, I’ll heal you.”

  Yes.

  At least he had an idea of what was coming this time. Greg popped the petal into his mouth then rested his hands on the pages of the open book, though through his eyes it seemed like the pages were turning right through them. Words, symbols, and diagrams lifted from its pages, drifting into his eyes. The languid bob of information steadily increased in velocity until it rocketed in his direction.

  Rakes. Hooks.

  The ache started behind his eyes, but was quickly spreading through his skull.

  Tension. Tumblers.

  Animated diagrams manifested in his vision. Different types of locks and different techniques to open them filled his mind. Pain lanced through his skull and down his spine for a single instant. A surprisingly gentle warmth snuffed it out, spreading through his body. Were it not for the fact that he was still being utterly bombarded with information, it would have been enough to put him straight to sleep. A message box popped into his vision, but he couldn’t see it until the overload of skillbook text finally petered out.

  Affected by Baptism of the Drowned Queen

  —Heal over time in effect

  —Portion of incoming damage converted to healing

  —Ongoing cleanse effect active

  Greg didn’t speak for several minutes after the sensory onslaught had ended. Eyes closed, he basked in the remnants of the buff Brannoc had laid on him. It was just magic. He knew that. That knowledge did not stop it from feeling like being smothered in a big, powerful hug. It didn’t stop it from reminding him of his father.

  The smell of freshly mowed grass drew his eyelids open. He was no longer on Brannoc’s porch. Hell, he wasn’t even a grown man anymore. Sixteen-year-old Greg Norwood jogged off the football field of Summit Crest High School, helmet in hand and fighting off tears.

  Logically, he knew this was a memory. He also knew crying about losing a high school football game, state championship or not, was nonsensical. Those same feelings washed over him again, regardless. All that work. The literal blood, sweat, and tears poured onto that field, and for what? To fail at the last possible moment.

  Greg glanced to the bleachers through misty eyes, but they only found his mother. Head in her hands as if she’d been the one on the field. Looking back on it now, he could barely remember a time when he hadn’t felt like a meal ticket to her. The subtle clacking of cleats on concrete didn’t mask his father’s voice.

  “Greg!”

  He’d always been told he’d favored his father. They had the same angular features. Shaggy dark hair. Brown eyes that somehow always looked sad.

  His father ran over to him and wrapped him in a hug, shoulder pads and all.

  “I’m so proud of you, Greg.”

  “Greg?” His father’s voice faded until it was replaced by Brannoc’s rough timbre. “Greg? You alright?”

  He quickly swiped at his eyes and looked up at the elf who’d leaned forward toward him, pipe in hand instead of between his teeth. “Fine.” He nodded. “Thanks for the help there. That was a lot.”

  You’ve absorbed Advanced Lock Picking!

  You are now proficient with lock picks of any variety. Will not help with magical locks.

  You’ve gained 1 point of Dexterity and 2 points of intelligence.

  “That explains the extra pain.” Isabella remarked. “Gaining a significant portion of your intelligence over again will do that to you.”

  He avoided rolling his eyes at her obvious bash to his intelligence. Partially due to Brannoc’s presence, but also because she was technically correct. Two additional points increased his intelligence by fifty percent, but outside the initial pain, he didn’t feel any different like he had with the dexterity increases. He’d have to test it out later.

  “So, I need to find a new place to stay.” Greg said, stashing the book in his storage space over his head.

  “Not here.” Brannoc leaned back in the chair, sticking the pipe back between his lips.

  “Always so thoughtful and kind.” Greg rolled his eyes. “I was going to ask if you had any suggestions, and any other way to make money. I don’t imagine I’m going to be able to pay for a place killing jester rats.”

  “Probably not.” Brannoc agreed. “Time to start taking contracts.”

  “While I’m working yours?”

  “Mine’s not strictly a contract. I’m not paying you.” Brannoc shrugged. “I also won’t be there to bail you out, so you either need to be smarter about picking jobs, or find yourself a team.”

  “You think Ricard and Clover would be interested.”

  Brannoc shrugged. “Can ask them, but I doubt it. They don’t plan on staying in the city long past their graduation.”

  “Graduation?” Greg grimaced. “Like…from school?”

  Brannoc stared at him blankly.

  “Okay. From school.” He wasn’t sure why, but he hadn’t even considered there would be any sort of public education system here. “Where would one look for a team?”

  “Try where the adventurers are.”