Ufgar watched as Peila put the final touches on a wooden chest. Her hands waved delicately as the final flourish was added.
She stepped back from her creation. There was a flash of green light that left her humming happily. That showed that it was a good item as opposed to getting a white flash.
"So, I heard you had an offer," Peila said, not looking at him. She pulled out a pristine white rag and dusted the chest of any remaining sawdust.
Ufgar leaned against the counter for a better look. Peila's family ran a furniture workshop, specializing in regular pieces. You could get any number of chairs, tables, bedroom furniture among others from them. The shop had been in existence for decades in one form or the other.
"An offer," Ufgar repeated, his mind arrowing to the strange mayor he'd met not so long ago.
"The kind that makes you a Captain instead of a mere Trooper," Pelia continued. She picked up a small wooden box and flipped it open. Inside, seven little carved animals rested. "Captains earn so much more respect than Troopers, Ufgar."
The bell over the shop's door tinkled as the heavy wooden door was pushed open. Ufgar looked over to see his sister, Sora walking in, a babe swaddled against her chest.
"Just the one I was looking for! Plus, a bonus!" Sala said, glancing at her brother.
"And if that wasn't the worst bit of news I've heard today," Pelia muttered. She and Sala traded glares. "What use do you have of my man?"
"Man? All I see is a whelp just starting his life," Sala shot back, absently patting the baby's back.
"I see being a mother hasn't improved your temper," Pelia sneered. "One would hope a modicum of sense would have blossomed when you gave birth."
"At least I already have, unlike a dried up garden patch like yourself," Sala retorted. She turned her gaze to her brother. "Are you coming or not?"
"Coming where?" Ufgar asked, straightening up from where he was leaning against the counter.
"To the meeting." Sala adjusted the baby's swaddle. "I was sent to summon you."
"And if only she'd started with that," Pelia grumbled, picking up the wooden chest and waddling towards the backroom. Not because the chest was heavy, but because it was a little too wide to heft up comfortably.
"I could help with that," Ufgar belatedly said.
"Already done," Pelia said, coming back into the main store area. She looked from Sala to Ufgar. "Well, off with you then. You have an important meeting, right, Sala?"
"Of course, he does," Sala nodded. She turned towards the door. "Ufgar?"
"Coming," Ufgar sighed. He glanced at Pelia who arched an eyebrow. "I'll bring you another animal tomorrow," he said in a despondent tone as he opened the door for his sister.
"Of course, he will," Sala agreed, shooting a parting glare Pelia's way.
Ufgar could hear the sniff even as the door swung shut behind them.
*****
Wen walked cautiously into the town. Bryersdorf had changed since she'd last been there as a youngling. Instead of the originally sleepy little hamlet, it was a bustling town.
She didn't think it had much to do with the caravanserai outpost near the edge of town. That part was truly busy. Wen had spent several minutes watching it from a bluff outside of town.
The dragon had deposited her there before disappearing with a flick of its tail. Wen had watched it leave with bemusement.
Naples had been voluble on the trip here. She'd learned far more than she'd ever wanted about current dragon gossip. The most interesting thing Naples had said involved the Council of Fang granting a mayoral position for saving a dragonet.
Naples might not have realized it, but Wen could recognize the area briefly described. It looked like the Wildlands might have gained new life again.
Though, as she was looking at the 'weird two-legs' as Naples referred to them, she wasn't too sure how long that would last. She hadn't seen anyone with a level higher than her own low 148. Wen had a vague memory that the Wildlands were much, much higher than that.
She watched as a gaggle of children rushed by, laughing and chattering amongst themselves. They were all in their 30s, one nearly reaching 40.
Wen closed her eyes and gave herself a shake. It was normal for her to keep scanning those around her. She was an educator after all. Still, part of her wanted to wrangle all these children into a school and keep them there until their levels all hit at least 75.
"How do you do that," a young voice asked her.
Wen was startled out of her bemusement. She glanced at the speaker, a youngling at level 32. She was dressed rather outlandishly in a variety of clothing that glowed different colors, like a walking rainbow.
"How do I do what?" Wen asked, raising her brows. She took a quick glance at her person and didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Instead, she tightened her grip on the pack slung across one shoulder.
"Just show your level instead of your name," the girl continued. Her eyes were glued to the area above Wen's head. A small little wrinkle appeared on her forehead. "I've never seen that before."
"Oh, that." Wen smiled. Children were, after all, children. "It is a standard setting for status." Wen called up her status screen and disabled the setting. Then she paused, frowning thoughtfully at the quest notification listed there.
"Really?" The girl paused in a stance familiar to Wen. The children in her clan did it every hour it seemed. "It is there! Wow! I should post it on the forums! Maybe I could get some Glory!"
Wen shook her head as she drifted towards the Bryersdorf caravanserai outpost. She wasn't sure why it was considered so amazing. It was something her own mother had taught her when she was barely level 10.
*****
Pelia watched from the doorway of her family's furniture store as the human stalked towards the Market. A shaggy dire wolf trotted after him, eyes shining with intelligence.
Pelia frowned at the small bottles on the man's belt. They looked like the types of containers that alchemists would use to store things.
She shivered, rubbing her hands on her arms. Alchemists were a strange, scary lot. They would use just about anything in their quest for new discoveries.
Pelia took a few steps back, coming to a dark doorway.
"Oy! Pilar! Get your lazy butt here!" She called, keeping an eye on the man as he neared the Market's entrance. He'd paused to talk to old lady Gellart. "Pilar!"
"What is it now, Pelia? I was so busy studying. You know I need to pass Ms. Ahlans's mid-term to earn my 'ia,' right?" Pilar said, slouching out of the doorway. There were ink stains on her hands.
Pelia glanced at her younger sister, lips pursing. Pilar loved studying more than wood carving. Something Pelia herself couldn't understand.
"And how are you supposed to help out in the shop if you're studying all the time?" Pelia asked.
"And that's why all you know is wood carving," their mother said, entering the shop with a basket slung over one arm. She paused just past the lintel and glanced backwards. "There's an alchemist in the town. Someone needs to go tell Sala."
"Why?" Pilar asked, slotting herself behind the counter. She pulled out an account book from under the smooth wood top and flipped it open. "It's just an alchemist."
"And Sala has a newborn." Their mother pulled out an Ice Apple from her bag and shoved it into Pelia's hands. "Go tell her."
"I will," Pelia promised, juggling the cold fruit. She finally wrapped it in a bit of paper Pilar tore from the back of the book and handed to her. "It's not that he's here, but that he's here with a newborn in the town. She had him off-season, so no safety in numbers."
Pilar looked confused. She glanced from her mother to Pelia and back again.
"Some alchemists use the blood of babies in their research. As such, it's valuable, especially our babies' blood," her mother said. There was a sheen of old anger in her eyes. "That's why your brother's sickly."
Both Pilar and Pelia stared at the ground. Under normal circumstances, their brother would be the one taking care of the shop since he was the oldest. Instead, Pellum spent a good bit of time in bed, sick from one ailment or another.
He wasn't lazy while sick. A vast number of decorative bits came out of his sickroom, ready for sale or affixation to furniture.
"Your father went to Calversea, the capital of the Liannenken Kingdom. There's a restaurant there that serves a variety of things. One of their dishes might be just what your brother needs." Their mother hefted the basket and hustled towards the hallway Pilar had emerged from.
"So, they make a fruit salad of many elements?" Pilar mused, her brow wrinkling.
"Alchemists love to take the heart's blood. For grown orcs, that's not as bad of a problem as it is for children and especially newborns. Newborns are supposedly more potent because of the unrealized potential," Pelia explained.
"Like dragonets?" Pilar asked. She shivered. "You should go before he sniffs out Sala then. She lacks sense since she gave birth."
Pelia bit back a laugh. She stuffed the wrapped apple into the pocket of her work apron. She snagged a plaque off a shelf.
"So I look like I'm doing real work," she told Pilar.
"I'll add it to your man's tab," Pilar said coolly. "Don't worry. I'll also give him the family discount."
Pelia laughed this time as she exited the coolness of the store into the warm afternoon sun. She paused, taking a deep breath.
Glancing the way the alchemist had gone, she turned just a bit and hurried towards Ufgar's family home.
*****
Mockingbird lounged in the chair, head lolling to one side. She watched the crowd hurrying by through half-lidded eyes. Across from her, her longtime friend, Virtuous Moon was flipping through an actual magazine made of paper.
She found that fascinating. She'd never bothered to read a paper magazine before. Mockingbird preferred the digitals: easy to read, easy to dispose of.
"Is there anything in there about how to make some money?" Mockingbird asked, straightening up. Her neck was starting to get a kink.
"Well, this issue is talking about how much fun it is to take a caravan to another city instead of traveling by oneself." Virtuous Moon sighed. "I never considered taking a caravan. Too under-leveled."
"You're not under-leveled," Mockingbird argued. She rolled her head on her shoulders. "While we had that unfortunate incident when we first logged in, we're not that far behind the leaderboards."
"Is that what you're calling it?" Virtuous Moon asked as he closed the magazine. "I was thinking that I could see if I could submit something to the magazine. They offer ten gold for each story."
"Just ten gold? That's only about fifty dollars right now," Mockingbird said. "That's just enough to pay for one month's playtime."
"Do you have any better ideas? My parents are threatening to cut me off. Something about me getting a summer job to pay for school books," Virtuous Moon scoffed. He shook his head as he rolled his eyes. "Can you see me at some minimum wage job?"
"Not really," Mockingbird said. She tapped the table thoughtfully. "The article was promoting caravans?"
"Yep, wanna see?" Virtuous Moon shoved the magazine across the table.
Mockingbird flipped it open to the story that Virtuous Moon had been reading. A slow smile started to spread.
"We could do this," she said.
"Do what?" Virtuous Moon looked wary. He'd had that expression for the last ten ideas she'd proposed. He still went along with her, though.
"We start a caravan! And I know just the person to help us with all of it!" Mockingbird closed the magazine and stood, tucking it under her arm. "This is going to be epic!"
"Or something," Virtuous Moon muttered as he stood up to follow her.