Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee

"Richard."

He lifts his eyes from Maela’s clipboard.

"I need a closed wagon in two days. Nothing flashy. Good suspension, room for crates, a discreet driver. If it can pass for ordinary material transport, even better."

Richard writes it down before answering. "I can manage that. I’ll need money to reserve it."

I look at him a second longer than I mean to. "You’ve never been in a guild?"

The question seems to bother him less than I expect. Richard just props the clipboard against the table and breathes through his nose, like a man returning to an old part of his own life.

"Not as a member. I’ve run with squads. Small group, trench work, escort, area clearing. Temporary things." He glances at Zoe, who’s helping Maela sort new labels at a distant table. "Guilds I avoided. Too much politics. Too many hidden fees. I had a daughter to raise."

That makes sense.

In Thirstfall, a guild can be a shelter or a trap. Sometimes both, switching function to suit whoever holds the contract.

"Then let’s do this right."

I pull a sheet from my inventory to draw up the contract and sit at one of the free tables. Oliver stops what he’s doing and comes over. Richard stays on his feet across from me, watching my hands, not pretending any kind of ease.

I write without hurry.

Richard enters Safe Harbor as a common member, with the functional role of LDP factory manager. He’ll have authority over shifts, staff, operational stock, production purchases, and outflow control. No administrative vote in the guild. The founders remain me, Oliver, Rhayne, and Veric. Zoe can work light jobs, records, checks, simple stock, earning eight Shards a month, provided Richard supervises and she agrees.

I also write in variable pay for Richard by production volume, numbers to be settled after seven days of real operation. A loose promise rots fast in Thirstfall. Paper marked before Ocean’s Law, at least, holds firm with a witness.

When I finish, I set my Diver Mark.

Oliver reads the contract carefully and adds his as witness. Richard takes longer. Reads it once. Goes back to the start. Checks Zoe’s section. Checks the authority section. Checks the pay section.

"This puts me inside the guild," he says.

"As a common member and factory manager."

"And the purchases?"

"You requisition through the Ocean’s Law system. Material, maintenance, transport, tools. The message reaches me with the price and the reason. I approve or refuse from my HUD, even far from here. The money leaves the guild vault, on record."

Richard looks at the contract again. "So I don’t have to ask for money every time."

"You just have to explain what you’re buying... clearly."

He nods, satisfied in a dry way, and sets his own Diver Mark at the bottom of the page.

The sheet glows for an instant.

"I’ll register it today," I say. "After that, you can use the system."

Richard folds the contract with care and hands it back to me. "The wagon will be ready soon."

"Two days."

He gives me a thumbs-up.

I leave the factory in his hands and head out with Oliver. The walk to the Oathmark is short. I register the contract at an Ocean’s Law post there and pay the fee without arguing: fifty Shards. Half a Plate per member. The money comes straight from the guild vault.

I watch Richard’s name enter under the Safe Harbor structure.

[Common member.]

I add the note beneath it: [LDP Factory Manager].

Small on the panel. In practice, it changes a great deal.

"Oliver, call everyone, please."

"On it, boss."

From the Oathmark, we go to the academy. The southeast plaza is close, and I need to walk. My body still aches from sleeping in a hard chair in a terrible position, the body reminding me I keep abusing it, as if my young age excused the misuse.

When we arrive, the plaza we turned into a training field is empty. Packed dirt, low pillars, old impact marks on the ground. One by one, the others show up.

Rhayne and Zhang Xi come first, both with a serene look, walking side by side.

I smile.

’I wonder if Rhayne’s trying to become a monk.’

Veric arrives after, adjusting the chain of Undertow on his arm. Freya shows up with Mira and Kellan. The three come from different parts of the academy but stop almost at the same moment when they see Oliver and me in the center of the plaza.

I wait for everyone to gather.

"For the next two days, we’ll train three-on-three battles. My team will always be people from my squad."

Mira looks at Kellan. Kellan looks back.

The two break into small smiles, already expecting it. They say nothing. They don’t need to. Mira wants to test Rhayne again. Kellan wants to measure what’s left of the read I used against him. In different people, curiosity and the will to win tend to produce the same expression.

Freya is the only one who moves.

She walks a few steps and crouches over the packed dirt. Her hand goes down without hurry, fingers sinking into the dry dust as if searching for the field’s temperature. When she lifts a small handful, the cold climbs her skin in clear lines. The dirt hardens in her palm, grain by grain, until it becomes a fragile mass of dark crystals.

A breeze crosses the plaza.

A thin strand of Freya’s red hair falls over her face. The rest stays behind her shoulder, alive in the light, like fire held too close to ice. Her blue eyes stay fixed on me. There’s little expression there, but the look has weight, a still pressure, like a flame seen through glass fogged by cold.

The crystals begin to fall between her fingers.

Pale crumbs drift down in silence, slow as hourglass sand.

Freya stays crouched.

"Is there going to be an experience wager?"

The voice comes low. Serious. With a faint smile that doesn’t need to grow.

The field goes quiet.

Veric looks at me, then at her. Rhayne doesn’t move. Kellan and Mira seem to like the training even more.

I look at the crystallized dirt falling from Freya’s hand until the last grain touches the ground.

"I always wager my life," I say. "You can bet whatever you want."

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