by Dante Doom
At least, that’s what the ruling class of Verre insisted was the case. Known as the Crown of the Remaining World, the Nobles claimed that Verre was a land destined for greatness and set apart from the other dwindling cities. They made the case that their agricultural and management techniques would ensure that the population of the city state would survive for generations to come. Perhaps what made Verre so different was that a lot of old tech remained.
Unfortunately, because the tech was so old, there wasn’t anyone around who could pull Hem out without killing him. At least, no one who’d be willing to help a Grinder. They were a necessary evil for anyone wanting to make a place for themselves in society, but if they were caught, they could become outcasts. No, Savannah and her mother would have to wait until he died in the Grind or came out on his own.
Savannah left her father behind as she climbed up the stairs, leaving behind the cellar where their pods were hidden. The perpetual overcast sky greeted her as she climbed out. The air didn’t smell any better here than it did in her basement. She could hear the clucking of chickens as peasants wandered about, tending to the crops and livestock around her little home. Savannah deForge and her family lived on the outskirts of Verre. The wall still protected them from potential marauders and anyone trying to get in who didn’t belong, but they were far away from the glitz and glamor of the main city hub. Verre’s center, the Central Courts, was one of the most gorgeous places in all the land, but only nobility could enter such an area.
She made her way through the shantyville, walking past the poorly cobbled together homes. The serfs of the land kept Verre well-fed, but their living conditions were wretched.
“Marnin’, Savannah,” Mr. Krull shouted at her as she walked by. He was an elderly man who walked with a limp. His clothes were made of burlap and he was always squinting at her. “Ya git yer Grind pass yet?”
“No, sir,” she replied. He asked her this question every single time he saw her.
“It’s not right fer a yang lass to not go inta the Grind, ya know!” he said. “Think o’ yer family.”
“Yes, sir,” she quietly answered. She could never quite tell if he was senile and forgot about the conversation each day, or if he was just extremely pushy.
Savannah made her way on to the village square; she needed to track down Sal to have a few choice words with her and get her points. She could hear the hopeful voices of children as they ran past her.
“Come on! They’re about to knight someone!” one of the boys shouted. The children all scampered forward, excited to see the spectacle.
Savannah followed the children until she reached a small crowd gathered around a large platform. Upon the wooden platform were eight pods. Sitting next to the pods was a woman with skin as white as snow. She was older, maybe in her mid-thirties, but she was beautiful. Her face was soft, her smile was gentle… and her hands! Her hands were slender and clean. Savannah imagined that there wasn’t a speck of dirt under her trimmed fingernails, and nor would they look rough or calloused. She stared at the woman for a moment more, wondering what it would be like to be that woman right now. To sit tall above the people, casting down judgments instead of being judged. To be a Noble was to be a god amongst ants.
“Fair people!” the Noble said as she stood. “As is custom and tradition, we shall begin to confer titles upon those who have made their way through the Grind. Four people have emerged victorious, and I, Lady Emila, am here to grant them their rewards.”
There was clapping amongst the peasants as the first pod slid open. A bleary-eyed man stumbled out of the pod rubbing his face.
“Young Toddmin,” Lady Emila said as she gently placed her golden scepter on his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. “Under the law of Verre, and benediction of King Leopold, I hereby grant you the title of Serf, for your deeds within the Grind. As Serf, you may tend to the land, serve a baron or greater household, and you may marry.”
There was widespread cheering from one side of the crowd, and Savannah could guess these voices belonged to Toddmin’s family.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Toddmin said. He looked quite pleased with himself. Savannah felt a little spike of agitation run through her stomach. Why was he so happy? He was condemned to being hired help for the rest of his life. People could only go through the Grind to obtain their social status once. After that, a random lottery would maybe give them a chance to go through it again, but the odds of winning the lottery were fairly low.
“Salsima, step forth!” Emila said as Toddmin walked over to his family, who received him with great adulation.
The second pod slid open then, and Sal emerged. She was grinning widely and walking proudly, as if she herself had earned her rank. Savannah knew the truth, though. She knew it all too well.
“Salsima, under the law of Verre and benediction of King Leopold, I hereby grant you the title of Lady, for your deeds within the Grind,” the Noble said as she touched her scepter to Sal’s shoulders. Unlike the boy, Sal wasn’t required to kneel. “As a Lady, you may marry into nobility, own land, and hire serfs.”
“Hire Toddmin!” someone in the crowd shouted, eliciting a laugh from everyone.
“Thank you,” Salsima said as the Noble handed her a bright red sash. She draped it around her neck, allowing everyone to see that she now had the red colors of a Lady.
The awarding continued, but Savannah wasn’t paying attention anymore. She had a bone to pick with Sal. The new Lady didn’t even bother to wait for the ceremony to end before she headed home. Savannah followed after her, not bothering to hide her footsteps. Sal looked over her shoulder, spotted her, and hastened her pace forward before she made an abrupt turn. When Savannah got to the walkway, Sal was nowhere to be seen. Savannah’s smile was grim as she moved to follow her. Hearing a noise, she stepped closer to the wall and looked to where it had come from. She caught sight of Sal dusting herself off as though she’d run through a barn. Deciding to be more careful, Savannah waited until she was moving again before following her.
She noted that there were no family members waiting for Sal. Perhaps the girl didn’t have a family—orphans weren’t uncommon in Verre. Those who went afoul of the King or Queen usually found themselves cast out or dead, but the children of political dissidents would often remain.
There weren’t many orphanages, but if a child was smart enough to operate a combine harvester, or use a harvest-scythe machine, they could get by well enough. Parentage didn’t matter much when it came to the Grind. Everyone would undertake it before the age of twenty-one, and the Grind would then determine their place in society. It was a total meritocracy.
Salsima reached a small hovel and looked over her shoulder one more time before entering. It was more of a trash heap than a home, but Sal wouldn’t be there too much longer. With the rank of Lady, she could move out of the farmlands and closer to the city, where she would be sure to find work with a Baron.
As Sal entered her house, Savannah went crashing in after her, pushing the door open and pouncing on the girl’s back.
“Ah! Mrpph!” Sal tried to yelp, but Savannah wrestled her down and put her hand over the girl’s mouth.
“Remember me?” Savannah hissed.
“What do you want?” Sal demanded as she tried to get free of Savannah’s grasp. She squirmed, but wasn’t able to break away.
“I want what you owe me!” Savannah growled, tightening her grip around Sal’s hands.
“I paid you already. I gave you three hundred shekels up front for the job. It was one-fifty per rank, remember?”
“Not that! You took all of the points, and you said I’d get twenty percent of your points—when I checked my account, I saw you didn’t transfer any of them to me.”
“Yeah, because I wanted to get out of the game. You’re a nutjob, you know that? I paid you explicitly for the purpose of getting me safely to another rank, and the first thing you did was go in with guns blazing, fighting against anything that moved without pausing to
think if it was a good idea. As far as I’m concerned, you should be happy I’m not taking my money back.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal.” Savannah let go of the girl’s arms. “We had an agreement.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Sal sneered. “Go to the courts? You’re a non-person, Savannah. Until you go through the Grind yourself, you’ve got no rights.”
“I’ll tell everyone about ghosting you!” Savannah threatened, knowing full well it was a useless bluff.
“Right, so go ahead,” Sal replied. “Tell everyone how you’re illegally entering the Grind. I’m sure the higher authorities would love to hear about that. You know you can get thrown out of the city for doing stuff like that, right?”
“Arrrgh,” Savannah growled. She grabbed the bright red sash around Sal’s neck and tore it in half.
“Hey!” Sal protested.
“One of these days, I’m going to be a High Noble,” Savannah warned. “And I remember the people who wrong me. I’m going to be powerful and wealthy. And you? You’re gonna marry some Lord, have a bunch of kids, and work for the rest of your miserable life serving other people. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll die of a pox at thirty.”
“Savannah,” Sal said as she shook her head. “If you’re really lucky, you’ll be a Serf, like the rest of these people. Because, at some point, you’re going to get to a place in the Grind where you can settle for something good, like being a Lady, or hell, even a Baroness, but your eyes are going to be bigger than your stomach and you’re gonna crash and burn. Look, not everyone aspires to join the High Court. Some of us are happy with the position we achieve. Maybe, if you hadn’t been so aggressive, I might have considered transferring all those points, but…” Sal shook her head as her voice trailed off. “Look, just slow down in there before you find yourself locked out for good.”
Savannah stood and walked to the door, shaking her head. She’d never let herself become a Serf. “Why would you settle when you could have everything?”
Sal picked up the red ribbon, smoothing it out. “Dreams are dreams and reality is very different. If we push ourselves too far, we end up losing everything. Even our dreams.”
The last bit was nothing more than a whisper, leaving Savannah to wonder what had happened to Sal. Shrugging her shoulders, she left the hovel. There was no way she was going to settle. Not so long as she could Grind.
Chapter Two
Savannah walked into the Drunken Knight and slammed the wooden tavern door against the wall. Casting a glare around the empty room, she spied her mother, Casty deForge, sweeping.
Her parents had been running the tavern long before she was born and, after all these years, it still hadn’t changed. An old oak floor met white plaster walls, which made their way up to a low-beamed ceiling. If you were too tall, you were sure to hit your head if you didn’t remember to duck. The heavy wood furniture was old, but still in excellent shape thanks to her parents’ elbow grease—and hers. When she misbehaved, her father often found that having Savannah polish all the wood in the old tavern was an effective deterrent against future infractions.
“Hello, dear,” Casty said as she continued to sweep. “How was work?”
“A disaster,” Savannah complained as she slumped down on a stool at the bar. “An absolute disaster.”
“What happened?”
“I got the money, but they reneged on paying me my points; it was a great haul, too. Seven thousand points! I’m practically at the rank of Knight now, and… she stiffed me.”
“Well, that’s what you get for working without your father,” Casty said as she shook her head. “He had a list of rules to follow when picking clients.”
“Yeah, and those rules cost us a lot of clients.” Savannah laid her head on the stone counter.
“If they don’t pay, they aren’t clients,” her mother chastised her. “You know that if you get caught in there, you’ll be kicked out, right? Or worse? That’s why Hem always played it safe.”
“I know, I know,” Savannah replied.
“I wish Hem was around more. He has so much to teach you about the Grind that you have yet to realize. While it’s one thing to go in prepared to shoot everything in front of you, there are ways to play the game strategically so that you may amass points safely. You’re so brash at times!”
“I’m not brash; I’m decisive. It’s my job to make sure the clients level up, and the only way to do that is to take out Virals. I can’t sit around wondering if I’m making the right decision. I have to get in there and work. It’s the only way I’m going to level up and get us out of here.” She threw a bag onto the counter. “At any rate, the client paid in real money this time.”
Casty looked as though she were going to say something more, but she smiled instead. “Great! Taxes are right around the corner and Baron Hauss has been impatient with us.”
“You run his damn tavern without taking a wage and he’s the one getting impatient?” Savannah grumbled.
“Savvy, how many times do I have to tell you?” Casty sat next to her daughter and placed a hand on the girl’s head. “Verre runs because we all play our part.”
“Hah, sure it does. It runs because they’ve somehow tricked us all into obeying them. Two royal leaders, forty members of the High Court, and more than a hundred thousand peasants in this city. They all live in prosperity while the rest of us are down here in misery.”
“Don’t talk like that. People need leaders. Do I need to remind you of the story of Nuerk?”
Savannah sighed. Her mother loved to tell the story of Nuerk. Unlike many other residents of Verre, Casty was a refugee. Her city had fallen due to infighting, and thousands of people had been displaced as a result. Somehow, Casty had survived the wretched wastelands and arrived in Verre. Immigrants were usually ignored by the city watch, but a Knight had taken mercy on her and allowed her into the city. The Knight had died shortly after due to a pox, but Casty had been able to find her home under Baron Hauss, where eventually she’d become a serf.
“I know the story full well, Mom,” Savannah replied.
“Then I’ll skip to the last part,” Casty said as she ran her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “In the end, Nuerk survived plague, raid, and blade, but it could not survive greed. Forty thousand men and women wanted what the nobility had, so they became rulers. Then twenty thousand wanted to live better and killed the others. It was a civil war. All because someone wanted something more. Be happy with what you have, child.”
“You only say that because Dad and I bust our asses enough to pay for these taxes. If we couldn’t pay, the Baron would have us kicked out of this place in a matter of seconds. When I make it to the High Courts—”
“We do our part,” Casty replied, interrupting her. “And that’s the best we can do.” Casty leaned over to hug Savannah. “For now. I know you have aspirations. But for now, I need you to do your part and watch over this place. If I can get this money to the tax collector, it will get us ahead of the game.”
“He’s just gonna skim off the top.”
“I know, which is why I always put brass shekels on top,” Casty said as she made her way to the door. “If Otis comes in, give him the vodka in the brown bottle; it’s mostly water.”
“Will do,” Savannah said, raising her hand in acknowledgement but not bothering to move her head from the table. The door slammed shut behind her mother then, leaving her in the silence of the tavern. There was only the low-pitched hum of the cold-keeper to make any noise.
As Savannah grumbled to herself and fantasized about getting her sweet revenge on Sal, the door opened once again, making the bell ring as it bounced against the door, but she was too tired to look at whoever was coming in.
“Excuse me?” said a quiet, timid voice. “Is this place open?”
“Sure,” Savannah said, still refusing to move. Going into the Grind had taken a real toll on her, and her altercation with Salsima had been a little too much exertion
on top of it. She really should go easier on her body.
“Great,” the man said. She heard him rustling as he sat next to her. “This is the Drunken Knight, right? I didn’t see a sign.”
“Our old one broke,” Savannah replied. She leaned up to look at him. He was a fancy boy, dressed in the finest silk and sporting a bright purple cape. He was definitely not their usual patron. She sat up at attention immediately, realizing that it was possible he was a Noble of sorts.
“No, no, please, relax,” he said. “I’m just a… er, a Noob. Don’t be fooled by my dress.”
“You haven’t been in the Grind yet?” Savannah asked.
“No,” the man replied. He tapped his fingers on the table. “They… er, my sources told me to find the tavern with no sign. And look for a Hem?”
“Hem’s on a job; how can I help you?” Savannah asked, assuming he was a prospective client. That would explain why he seemed so nervous.
“Well,” the man said as he reached into his bag, rummaging around for a moment. “I was told that this fine establishment offers ghosting services. My twenty-first birthday is right around the corner and my parents have insisted that I use a ghost.”
“Really?” Nobles often did use ghosts to get their children into the right rank, but they usually used people inside of their own household to ensure the affair was kept secret.
“Indeed,” the man said as he produced two thick bars of silvar. “This should be enough, yes?”
“Silvar?” Savannah whispered as her eyes grew wide. A bar of silvar that big was probably worth at least 10,000 shekels. She reached out and touched it. The bar was strong and dense. She grabbed a spoon from the counter and thwapped it. The bar let out a nice, strong ring. It was real. Well, at least, if the legend about silvar ringing when tapped was true, then it was definitely real.