The Adventurer Corps building is bustling when I arrive to check in just after midday. Vong and the other members of the party are due to arrive back today but knowing the way Vong tends to meander, and without me there to keep them even remotely on task, I will not be surprised when Corporal Level tells me they have not returned. Even for several days. Eventually, if it goes on too long, they will be declared missing or dead and I’ll be assigned to a new group—hopefully still with the pay increase and bonuses.
Level is not in his office but, instead, is directing people around the complex and answering questions to a long line of workers. I listen in for a little while to learn what the commotion is about.
“Is there an armory I can put these in?” a woman asks, presenting Level with a paper I take to be a larder, since she is not carrying anything.
He points, “Right now we’re using the old tack room in the center. It’s down that corridor, first room on the right.” He signs the paper and she thanks him and walks off.
The next person in line steps up to the Corporal, “I’ve got all the ammunition, oils, stones, screws, and other miscellaneous small goods on my wagon. Just need to know where to put ‘em.” He also presents a paper to him.
Level takes the paper and reads it over carefully before answering. The man taps his foot impatiently or blithely—I can’t say for certain. “Okay,” says Level, still looking down at the larder, “I’d like the arrows in the old tack room in the center. That way.” He points to where he directed the last inquirer. “The sundries can go right over here, in the feed room, since it was used to keep dry goods. Don’t want that oil to spoil or the screws to rust!”
The man nods and strides off with purpose, apparently content to get a receipt after delivery.
I wait by and watch seven more deliveries get signed and sorted before Corporal Level has a spare moment. I approach.
Level sees me and takes a big sigh of relief, “Zer Khaldun, I’m so glad you’re not another caravan master coming to deliver goods. Forgive me a moment. I have barely had a minute to myself all morning and it’s beginning to wear on me. Do you mind if I take a moment to refresh myself?”
I nod and pause my approach in response.
He gives me a nod in return and rushes toward the back paddock where a latrine and well are located. I watch down the corridor as his silhouette disappears around the corner, then keep staring, letting my eyes relax and defocus.
Staring quite comfortably, I don’t look when I hear people walking behind me. Though I like to be aware of things in my proximity, it is probably just another body carrying goods from cart to complex, and my eyes are so comfortable in this position that I am loathe to move.
The blurry and shadowy form of Corporal Level reappears at the end of the far corridor after a couple of minutes. I keep my eyes unfocused for a little while longer, but acknowledge that I can’t stare into one place forever. Plus I’ll need to blink before long.
Thinking about blinking causes me to blink and my comfortable eye position expires. Level comes into focus and I see him wave at me as he continues to approach. No, not at me. Behind me.
I turn my head and see Vong, Rakatha, Ralith, and Twitch walking in from the market street. Vong is smiling and waving as though he were at a family reunion.
Even though I came here for this, my instincts flare and I feel aversion to these people swelling inside. I do my best to quash it, and do fairly well, but it’s a bit slippery.
“Hey!” greets Vong when he sees me look their direction. They look fresh from the field. This means, undoubtedly, that Rakatha has not completed his spying assignment.
The group stops next to where I am standing and we wait together for Level to come the rest of the way.
“Level, how’s it going? What’s with all the boxes?” Vong asks, noticing several stacks of shipping crates lined along one wall of the center yard.
“Our supply shipment came in from Bulgris Mire,” explains Corporal Level. “The Corps are fully stocked now, and not a moment too soon! The field work you and the other squads have been undertaking has been bearing fruit already and new recruits are pouring in from Vulls and enVolls alike.”
Vong exclaims, “Wow, great! Are we going to get armor and weapons or something? Uniforms?!”
Twitch has wandered into the yard and is poking about.
Level laughs, presumably from Vong’s exuberance, “No uniforms, no. A lot of the folks we’ve signed up have already got their own equipment that they own and like. We’ve been getting some younger recruits as of late—we expected we would actually—so a lot of that stuff will be for those rookies to use.”
Rakatha appears disappointed that he won’t be getting new weapons to attach to his many straps.
Level continues, “But don’t worry, we’ve got things for the veterans too. Sharpening stones, maintenance supplies, and I’ve got a smith and her apprentice ready to set up a repair station pretty soon.”
“Can she make me a hat like this, but with some armor on it?” Vong asks, pointing to the saucer-like hat he wears in the field.
Level laughs again, “I don’t know, you’d have to ask her. She’s on contract to do work for the Corps, so a custom piece like that would be its own contract between you and her.”
Was he hoping he could get custom smithing for free, or is this just another demonstration of how little Vong understands money?
There is a pause in the conversation and Ralith pipes up, “Do we give our report out here?”
Level smiles and shakes his head, holding out his hand to direct us to his office. As we file in, another squad enters from the street. Level acknowledges them and directs them to wait while he deals with us.
I keep quiet the entire time, but listen to the report and try to piece together the fiction from the reality.