by Kit Falbo
I see James shivering a few tables over, “Yeah, I’ll stop by tomorrow for a short bit.” I eye Betty’s Buns., “Probably stop by and get some fresh baked goods in the morning.”
I spend the rest of the evening just hanging out and playing a few games for fun, as shocking as that is. The cool winter air feels nice. No matter how good the simulation of the reaction rooms, the air there still feels stale and recycled. Before heading home, I stop by a thrift store and buy some coats and sweaters to give out in the morning.
I suppose the first thing I should have noticed is the black smoke coming out of the top of the door. Pa had removed the fire alarms a few days into his cooking as they had become a hindrance. “Pa, everything ok?” I yell while coughing a little as I enter our place.
I see him rounding the corner, trying to fan the smoke out with a broom. “Yes, yes, just an incident with the beans. They may be salvageable yet.”
I dump the coats just inside the front door. “Maybe we should go out tonight, let this place air out.”
He sets down the broom, and I look across our living space. Half-done projects litter corners. A ship in a bottle, mast broken. A discarded crossword book with a pen jabbed through the cover. An ugly painting of a bowl of fruit. “Maybe you’re right, boy. Come here and give me a hug. “
I come over and hug him. This time I muff his hair to get some soot out. “On the way home, I passed a flyer for a church rummage sale starting tomorrow. Maybe we should hunt for treasures again?”
“You said no jobs. And what about your work?”
“That only means not to try to lie or swindle someone if your trying to resell something. I meant no crooked jobs. Plenty of people try to make money from old stuff. As for work, I could use a break. It’s a game, but it’s not like I’m playing it for fun.”
Dinner is Boone’s Burgers and Fries. I tell him he doesn’t need to try so hard. He denies that he is. Other than that, a perfectly good meal. Home is smoke free, and I head to my room and grab an old fantasy book, Magic’s Pawn, to read before going to sleep. After I picked it out, it had turned out to have nothing to do with chess but is still a decent read that keeps my mind off the game until I fall asleep.
The sale doesn’t start until two, after morning services and lunch, giving the people running it time to set up. My morning is free. Gramps is sleeping off his old age and the two beers he had with dinner. I know at the park a fresh muffin has my name on it, so I gather up the coats I bought and head to the bus stop.
I hand the coats out to those I feel need them. The extra’s I toss into a donation bin set up near one of the stores. I can smell the baked goods before I enter Betty’s Buns. Officer Joseph is sitting inside eating a snack and drinking his coffee. I wave hi as I pass him on my way to the counter. “What’s the freshest from the oven?”
“I think the apple turnovers came out a few minutes ago.”
“I’ll take two of those and a decaf mocha.” A few minutes later I have my food and drink, and I’m sitting in a booth. Breaking open a turnover, I smell the still warm apple cinnamon filling.
“Jay?” I look up. It’s Peacoat Man. I wouldn’t have recognized him without him still wearing that very nice jacket.
“Sandy?”
“Saunders,” he corrects. “You never did give me a call. Can I sit?”
I don’t want to say yes, just don’t feel comfortable saying no and making a scene either. The place is crowded enough I’m not worried, and officer Joseph is still picking away at his snack. I simply shrug. Saunders takes the seat across from me. “I had a project I’m working on. You were also a little vague. That, and I’ve been taught to ignore strange offers.”
Saunders winces, maybe realizing how strange the first meeting was.” Sorry. I was hoping the mystery would incentivize you to call. When I came back a few days later, you weren’t around for me to explain.”
“I guess you got lucky today.”
His eyes dart to the chess tables. “Yeah, lucky.”
Samael. Samael had sold me out. I take a rough bite out of my turnover. “So why did you want me to call you?”
He sits up a little straighter in his seat. “You’ve got talent, and I know talent. It’s not just that I consider myself decent at chess. I’m an agent. Now, I don’t usually represent chess players. One of my clients off hand mentions some great chess kid in the park, and I had to see. You do tournaments?”
I shake my head, though I have had a few people I play suggest I try one. ”Not really.”
“Well you can make a name for yourself, and even a good bit of money. Even better, your coming out as an unknown, obviously taking care of himself through hustling chess at the park, there is a story there. You’d only have to win or even place at some of the smaller tournaments, and then we could sell your image.”
The way he talks is how Pa would sometimes talk while on a scam, a bit of charisma, a bit of energy. Buy this, it’s great. Listen to me. “How much money?”
“Two hundred thousand annually are what pros can make. The best of the best get more than that. Like I said, I can see a story here. That could mean endorsements or book deals and other things.”
“And you would get?”
“Ten percent, plus some fees for travel to tournaments, booking hotels, usual stuff.” The catch, though it doesn’t seem that bad. Two hundred thousand is more, quite a bit more, than I’m farming in Fair Quest even with Saunders here taking his cut. I’d have to abandon my plans though. His quote is probably on the high end of possibilities too. I look over and see a slight smile on his lips. He can see I’m considering it.
“I have your number. I have friends I want to talk to first, before deciding.” It’s a dismissal. I’m not just going to say yes.
“Ok,” he says getting up. “I just wanted to thank you for hearing me out. Offer won’t last forever though.” He extends his hand for a shake. I take it, shake and he leaves.
Can I do that? It’s not like I’m not playing a game for money now. How good am I, really, at chess? My toughest opponent has been in a kid’s game. Grandpa has always shied away from having me do tournaments. If there really is money to be made there, Gramps would want me doing it. Even hustling in the park, I had never considered chess as a career. It was just something I did with Grandpa. I try to imagine what my life would be like. There’s more risk though, harder players. Saunders talked about it like it would be easy. My turnovers and coffee are getting cold while I sit there thinking about it.
With Fair Quest, every time I make something, I can sell it. I’m in a half daze about it until I meet up with Grandpa for the rummage sale. He’s happy to be doing this with me, more so than he has in the past few weeks. When we get there, there is a small line outside the door with ten minutes until it opens to the public. Our breaths leave their little clouds in the cold air. “Pa, is there a reason why we never had me do any chess tournaments?” I ask not really thinking of a way to beat around the bush. “I hear you can make some money if you can win?”
I could tell he’s a little surprised. This, to him, is coming out of nowhere. “Just something I never really thought about.”
I give him a knowing look. If there is money involved, he has looked at all the angles. He sees I’m seeing through his bullshit. “Ok, you start doing well, and then I get in a bit of trouble, and we have to move. Chess isn’t anonymous like your games. You show up to a tournament, and someone recognizes you as Jack, not as Jonas, who you are now. It wasn’t worth the trouble. You put in all the work maybe get some notoriety, and I ruin it for you.”
“But if you’re done with that now, is it something to consider?”
His mouth opens then closes a little like a fish out of water. This isn’t something he’d considered. The doors open, and people start heading in. “Can we talk on this a little later?”
“Sure.”
And we enter. It’s a large church, and it’s filled with stuff, but as they say, what’s one step from rumm
age? Rubbish. Still, it’s nice to dig around and look for things. Grandpa always goes to check out the jewelry or paintings first, hoping to find some bit of real gold for cheap, or a painting he can pass off as some famous work. I go to see if there are any gaming things or toys. Mel had introduced me to that whole group of people who obsess over such things.
The place reminds me of the room Gar is defending. Except this time, I don’t have a four-foot rodent to send off to look for anything that might be good. Despite the rough patches that day had, it was better than most of the days I spend hammering out items at the forge or using the basement at the cobblers to accessorize clothes.
I find a small tin windup toy and a few older comics in one section. I’m digging through things that people have given up on or left and forgotten. There is something exciting about doing that and finding something cool, but there is also something sad there. Two hours later, having thoroughly gone through the place, I have a small pile of things that I should take to Mel and a few items for myself. Another fantasy book. A hand carved six-inch wooden knight.
Grandpa has found some jewelry and silverware. He even nabbed a painting declaring that this one had to be the real deal. We make it home with our spoils and order a pizza. Thankfully, we are too tired from digging to have Grandpa make a home cooked meal. “Do you think I should maybe try a chess tournament?” I ask between slices.
“What about this project of yours that’s bringing in the bacon?”
I slurp up some soda. “Somedays are hard. Not very fun.”
Grandpa laughs a little. “Work is work is work. Why do you think I avoid it? You’re good, though it’s not like you’re guaranteed to win if you enter.” He lets out a small sigh. “You turn eighteen, real eighteen, and are free of parental type restrictions and want to try that for a career, I’ll support you a hundred percent, though I still think college. I can just fade away from all my mistakes. Any of them come trying to find me through you, you can just tell ‘em you’re an adult now and have moved on and don’t see me anymore. “
I give him a light slug in the shoulder, “Like I can go without seeing you. You sure I shouldn’t try it sooner? Maybe I can make more than I do in Fair Quest?”
“It’s been years,” he mutters. “Can I think on it? You can think on it too. So far this job thing has been good for us. I know I was reluctant, but I also don’t want you to keep going if you feel like you can’t.” He rubs his shoulder where I tapped him. “I think you’re building up muscles too.”
I agree to think on it. When I go to my room, I don’t pick up the new fantasy book. I pull down some of the old chess strategy books that I used to read and start flipping through them. I even set up a small board to practice a bit with myself before finally going to bed.
Chapter Thirteen - Chess
Jasper is waiting for me as I log back in. He has one of the in-game drinks ready for me. I breathe it in, and a butterscotch flavor coats my mouth. “Thanks.”
“I figured we could use it. After what they had us do two days ago, who knows what they will pull today. You have a good break?”
I look at my companion. He looks so real. “It went well, mostly. What did you do on your day off?”
“I read mostly. I did do a little more research on the other martial orders, but mostly it’s just waiting around at the companion boarding houses.”
Is that really the case or does he just disappear like Cook does when I’m not around? The thought of that happening disturbs me a little. I should probably look into that. “Guess we should see whether the head of the Duelists will actually see us today or they plan on making us run through more hoops. “
It’s the same guard at the gate. I suppose I shouldn’t expect otherwise. He holds up his hand. “Let me guess. You’re here to see the head of the Duelists.”
I give him a weak smile. “How did you know?”
“I have it marked down. You are expected this time. Follow me.” He rings a bell, and someone runs over to take his place manning the gate. “Sorry about the other day. Every few days we get a Touched coming up and asking or doing something ridiculous. Just walking up and asking to see the head of the order isn’t far from that. Innez filled me in that it is legitimate this time.”
“It’s okay,” I mutter, accepting his apology even though the laughing had been annoying.
We make our way through the yard again, to the main building. The outside is plain, utilitarian, and to me looks like it was added in as an afterthought by the game designers.
Inside tells a different story. The decorations are not gaudy like some I’ve seen, but they are fine quality. Every few feet a mural on one of the walls tells a story of some great duelist. Beneath the picture of two men bleeding out in a circle. I read:
Indigo, having chased Rudden, the man who murdered his father, through two neighboring kingdoms, finally brings him back for justice. Rudden demands trial by combat. Against the wishes of the order, Indigo is the man who faces him. Out-skilled at the blade, Indigo sacrifices his body to kill Rudden. Both end up dying of their wounds.
All the scenes play out like this. There is either a mistake to be learned from or an achievement to be honored. I have to stop reading to keep up.
We’re led up some stairs to an office on the third floor. The head of the Duelists sits behind a desk, two stacks of paperwork neatly squared on either end. A sword is displayed at the end of a desk on a stand. In fact, several swords are also displayed on walls in the room. Allynance has graying hair and a stern look on her face as she reads a sheet of paper. She looks up and gives us a slight smile., “Jasper, Chess. Have a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.” She looks to the guard. “Dip, you may go.”
We sit and wait. I put a smile on my face in an attempt to exert my charisma, hey, it never hurts. Allynance sets down the paper she finishes and speaks. “So, you’re here to make me a sword?”
I open my mouth. I hadn’t mentioned anything about that.
“Alerin sent me a letter three days ago telling me you were coming.” It didn’t take me long to connect the fact that she received the letter before I had even met with the man. More showing off on his part.
“He feels that I can create some balance between the Touched and the citizens by providing powerful swords to the heads of the marshal orders.”
Allynance gives an unladylike snort. “You would have to supply my whole order to even cause a dent. This doesn’t even begin to help with the problems I have with you Touched running around. There is no fear of a trial by combat when you can’t die.”
“So, you’re saying you don’t want a sword?”
“What? No! I’ll take any resource I can get. I’m sure King has plans, but by now he should know better than to try to use this as an excuse to get a favor from me.”
Allynance seems to consider this whole thing either a joke or part of some powerplay. I guess she has a point. According to the quest, I’m to judge her and pick a weapon that suits her. I stare at her, concentrating. Maybe there’s a skill, or…. I give up as she just stares back. “Is there a type of weapon or color you like?” I ask, deciding to give up on getting a ray of inspiration or a game notification.
She touches the sword on her desk. It is a little bit longer and thinner than the standard blades I make at Byron’s. “This is a Duelist’s blade. While a little old fashioned and not as popular as it used to be, it should be fitting for the job.
“I’m partial to green personally, and if you can attach this symbol to it, ” She pulls out a metal pin of a sword over a book. The guard Dip and major Innez had been wearing ones like it. “It represents our order; most orders wear their own.”
I look at the pin. It displays as a quest related crafting item. “You don’t need me to do any task or help prove myself before making the sword? Is it okay if I just make it today and bring it back to you?”
She smirks. “You Touched, always wanting to go out and do some work or job. I think you did enough fla
iling around half naked two days ago. I had a grand enough time watching from my window.” I peek out, and I get a good view of where we had been. I like to think I’m not blushing, but I feel my cheeks warming.
“I’ll do my best to complete the sword and get it back to you today.”
We leave. Jasper pats me on the back. “See that wasn’t so bad. You still going to need my help with all this?”
I look at him, “What, you miss painting old ladies’ fences for a bit of brass?”
“It’s just that then I at least feel useful.”
“Just stay with me until we get the sword delivered, then you can go back to helping people. We’ll start in on approaching another order tomorrow that way I can work on making items to sell this evening.”
We stop by the bank that holds my crafting supplies. I’m now paying for six chests worth of things and have merchants deliver materials to the bank according to deals I’ve set up. I find a good selection of green items to artifice the blade with and pull out a few pieces of interesting metals that might work. I also change out of the gaudy outfit I’ve been stuck with and back into my work clothes. That alone makes me feel more comfortable.
Since I’d leveled my smithing profession, I’ve had to pay a silver a day to use the better tools. I still choose Byron’s because being near the center of the city, the area still isn’t a popular hangout for other players. When I get to Byron’s smithy, he does something I’ve never seen him do before. He stops in the middle of a project, putting down his hammer and the work when he sees me. “Chess, welcome back. I hear you have a big new project you’re working on. Alerin contacted me and asked me to help insure that you would be making your best.”
I get a notification.
While working Alerin’s quest Byron’s assistance will allow you to use Master quality tools and materials.
I go to the work space I had claimed for myself. I’d stored a couple of the ingots I got from when I ran into Gar there, in case I leveled up, so I grabbed some. “Does that mean we can use these?”