Chapter 2: Strange Beginnings.

"Max, darling? Do you want to meet your baby sister?"

"Yes! Wow… she's so small… was I this small mama?"

"She's bigger than you were!"

"Wow.. That means she's gonna grow up big and strong!"

"But she'll always be your little sister, remember that alright?"

"Yeah! Don't worry mama! Me and papa are always going to protect her!"

As I saw my mother and father smile at a younger version of me, my vision clouded, split and separated, before coalescing into another memory.

"Brother, brother!"

"Hmm? Whu- Emma?"

"Brother I can't sleep…"

"Emma, go back to sleep"

"Max… I had a bad dream…"

"...Alright, alright, what was it about?"

"The house got flooded, Max… I couldn't- Mama, papa, and you-"

"Em? Shh, shh, I got you sis… I'm right here."

"Max, are you ever going to leave me?"

"No, no, Emma! I'm right here, I'll always be right here."

As I held little Emma in my arms, cooing her to sleep, I looked down at her as she slowly drifted off to sleep. My vision clouded again, as the scene before me warped once again.

Then I looked up, and realised I was in the middle of an alley, trapped between two stone walls somewhere in one of the corners of Dormu. I felt a tug at my shirt from behind me, as I turned around to see Emma, a little older, her face and hair dirtied and muddied, cowering behind me. I looked across to find three older boys closing in on us.

"Oooooh, someone called their big brother… What're you gonna do huh?"

"Stay away from me and my sister! I'm warning you!"

"Oh, he's warning us guys! What should we do?"

"Come closer and you'll regret it! I swear!"

"Shut up, little twerp!"

"Run, Emma!"

I feel the ghost of a foot slam into my chest, as I'm sent to the ground, breathless. I see the shadows of the other boys gather around me, raining down blows on my body. But I don't feel a thing. I only see Emma's mouth scream something, white letters hazily coming into focus above her head, before all the water in the alley gathers into the palm of her hand, before expelling them with enough force to blow the boys to the ground.

Then, I jerk awake.

Morning light filtered through the shabby tarp that acted as a roof. I felt the caravan go over a bump in the road again, the contents and passengers jolting along with it. Multiple voices of complaint arose from around me, berating the driver.

"Oops, sorry about that lads, roads are a little bumpy recently." I heard from the front, as the horses neighed in agreement. Beast attacks were on the rise recently, with nobody knowing the true reason. Some said it was just that time of year, other's proclaimed the end of the world as we know it, but I think there isn't much in the way of it having to do with the increase in merchant caravans moving along the roads around Pathlight.

My destination.

My thoughts move back to the dream. The times I had, before the world caught up to me. When did Emma change so much? We were just children, living with little, enjoying our life in a small village, and even so, we were happy.

Happy, huh? When did that become not enough? When did I want more?

I remember. It was when I saw the digit 1 appear over my little sister's head, when she was 5 years old, in that alley fighting off the hooligans that messed with my sister. Emma became my goal. A thing I could work towards, the thing that made things not enough anymore, but I didn't know it then. I just knew, if I couldn't do anything to fix this damn world, maybe she could. The first Class 1 born to the village of Dormu after generations.

That was what I was after, a goal only my sister can achieve, peace in my time, and Althea knows I don't have enough to change a damn thing. All I really have is a stupid little Class 5 over my head, and the determination to give the responsibility to my sister.

Huh. Now that I think about it, that sounds so cowardly.

"Oi, young lad, whatcha doin', goin' to Pathlight?" a voice breaks me free of my reverie, as I looked up to one of the merchants looking at me pointedly. He was old, roughly fifty, with a pot belly that threatened to spill from his shirt, clothed in silk garments, a rugged coat on his back.

"Who, me?"

"Yeah you, ye see any other young lad 'round here?" I looked around, and sure enough I noticed there wasn't anyone in the caravan that looked below thirty.

"Coin." I curtly replied. It was partially the truth.

"Aye, seems we're of the same mind. Oi Larsen, when did young'uns become so money-minded?" He asked another merchant, this one blonde, wearing the same silk, but better built, no trace of age in his physique, with a sword sheathed at his side. He was looking out the caravan, fiddling with a piece of straw in his fingers.

"Oi, how the fuck am I s'posed to know, huh? I ain't young. Ask the lad." Larsen gruffly replied, still surveying the passing woods.

He's the muscle, then. I'm guessing pot belly is in charge of all of them.

"What's your name, lad?"

"Maximus. Call me Max."

"Alright, Max. Lemme tell ye one thing lad," He gestured for me to come closer, before leaning in himself and staring at me with an indiscernible look.

"You shoulda stayed back at Dormu."

I was taken aback by his statement. What does he mean? Everyone knows that if you want a path out of the village, Pathlight is the place to go. We have no world outside of the village, and people have left Dormu for worse reasons.

What does he mean?

"Pathlight, everyone says it's the place for opportunity, the place you want to go to chase a new life, ye?"

I nod, listening carefully to what he has to say.

"It's all bullshit."

"What? Why?"

He laughed at my confusion, a booming laugh that echoed through the caravan.

"Lad, better ye find out sooner than later. Pathlight's a pile of shite, and lemme tell you, Yimir ain't no better. Shoulda stayed where you were happy. Ye're in some shite now."

"Look, I'm just there looking for a job, some coin to send back to my family, let them be more… comfortable." I say, trying to convince myself that it wasn't as bad as he was making it out to be. But something in me urged me to leave the caravan, and return to my family. To remain happy, or escape whatever cursed fate awaiting me at my destination. The same feeling that clawed at me when I left, seeing my sister stomp off in anger, seeing my parent's cloudy eyes, wishing me luck.

He laughed again.

"Seein' yer class lad, it's quite a task ye've got on yer hands."

What does my class have anything to do with this?

"Aight, I'll let ye think about it, we're not far. Get ready to disembark, boys! Mr Vesz wants these materials by sundown!"

I had no idea what to think. What did I get myself into? What truly awaited me at my destination? Was I going to be okay?

Was I going to be the same person as when I left?

It's all in Althea's hands now.

Next thing I knew, the caravan came to a stop, the booming voice of merchants unloading their goods, and the creaking of wooden boxes.

"What's in this damn thing? Why the fuck is it so heavy?"

"Mr Vesz told us not to look, just put your back into it, aye? Our payday's a waitin'."

I left the caravan, securing my quiver of flags, before hopping off with what I had.

20 silver should be enough to net me a room for the night. I'll spend the rest of today and tomorrow job searching, I guess.

"Oi Max." I heard the merchant's thunderous voice call from behind me, as I was walking away.

"Hold onto this lad. Name's Morden." He tossed me a piece of parchment wrapped around a stone with a piece of string. On it read:

Morden & Co.

Pathlight's travelling Mercantile Masterminds

Want good deals? We have you covered.

3 Watercreek Avenue

"That's our address. Ye'll get used to the streets by sundown, trust me. By that time the boys and I should be done with today's deal. Ye want a job right?"

I blinked at him. Was he already giving me a job?

"Ye'll find it's harder than it looks, finding a job as a Class 5. This is a little fallback. We don't pay that well but eh," He shrugged. I blinked again.

"If it keeps a roof over ye're head, I don't mind. Ye're a good kid, I can tell." He winked at me, before leaving with the rest of his crew, heaving the heavy goods over their shoulders.

Maybe it wasn't going to be as hard as it seems to be.

First order of business. Find a place to stay.

Easier said than done. Every tavern I went to, I got dirty stares as I walked in through the front door. Every inn charged exorbitant amounts, and it didn't help that the owners never seemed to have learned manners.

The rest of the day was spent hopping from place to place, the sun lazily making its way across the sky without a care for me or my goals.

I walked to the next one, hoping that I could find something within my budget.

Lantern's Light Inn, it said on the plaque above the front door, barely hanging on by a rusty nail and paint that looks centuries old.

I'm not exactly spoiled for choice now, am I?

I thought as I pushed the front door. The interior looked as mal-managed as the exterior, with dusty countertops, broken wood in multiple places on the counter and walls that barely gave the occupants any privacy.

Did I just hear- I don't want to know.

"Um, excuse me, how much do you charge for a night's stay?" I meekly inquired. The owner, a gangly old man, in clothes that looked weeks old and wearing a straw hat, glanced up at me, and then over my head before returning to whatever he was currently reading.

"2 silver a night, take it or leave it." He responded. He responded in a raspy rumble. I stared at him for a moment, expecting him to throw a couple of insults my way, but none came. This was already more pleasant than most.

2 silver is a better deal than most of what I've seen so far. I'm not exactly filled to the brim with coin right now, this is probably the best I'm going to get right now.

It was well past noon by now, with the sun beginning its descent over the horizon. However with how Pathlight was made, I can only see wisps of the fiery orange sky peek over the monolith that towered over the city.

"Well? You gonna keep starin' at me or you gonna pay me?"

I blinked myself out of my thoughts, and fumbled to get my coin pouch.

"Room 207, second floor, I ain't tourin' you around." the old man replied. I heard the tinkling of keys on

"Also, do you have a map of the city? I'm kinda new here." I asked the owner. He gave me a dirty look before putting his book down and reaching under the counter. He returned with a small, dirty map of the city, crudely drawn on old parchment. He slammed it onto the counter and picked his book back up.

"The only one I have. Remember to give it back." He returned to his sitting position, cross legged on what appeared to be a small stool. I nodded in thanks, flashing him a thankful smile that he did not notice.

What is it with people in this city?

I picked out 10 silver and laid it on the counter, before picking up the key and map, and wordlessly moved to find my room.

"Shoulda stayed where you were, kid." I heard the old man's raspy voice call from behind me.

"So I've heard."

"You got the short end of the straw."

"I know. Anything else?"

The man stared at me pensively, before returning to his book.

"Good luck kid, you're gonna need it."

"...Thanks."

What is it with people and wishing me luck? But I'm not going to complain, Althea knows I need all the luck I can get right now.

I headed up the stairs to my right, the wooden boards creaking incessantly with every step I took. The room was just down the hall, a small, dingy bedroom, with a bed with sheets that smelled like rats and a table with a creaky leg. It wasn't much, and definitely not ideal, but it was what I could get for 10 silver a night.

I leave my belongings in the room, that can wait till later, right now I need to find a way to get coin. Perhaps a job at a tavern? I can cook, maybe someone will take me in as a chef? Anything that pays enough for me to send home, eventually. I feel something in my pocket, and pull out the piece of parchment Morden gave me.

I considered his offer mentally.

I can hold my own Morden, maybe I'll see you around.

I pocket the address, heading off to land a job. Which, as with everything in this city, turned out to be a lot harder than I expected. I thought it would be alright to go for the regular, small jobs like a waiter at a tavern, but I couldn't even get them to hire me in the kitchen as a runner boy. Worst of all, I was turned away ungraciously at every turn.

Each employer had something to say about me, being it my appearance or my experience, but most turned me down because of my class, being what they called "a lower".

"Get out of here 5, minimum is 4 for this one"

"I'm sorry, but we only accept middles for this job, maybe you could find something more suitable for a lower elsewhere"

"Oi, what's this loser doing here? Get him out!"

"Apologies, but I don't think your skill would be a good fit for our establishment."

One simply laughed at me and told me to "find somewhere else to exist"

I don't think I've ever felt so dejected in my life. Every single tavern, diner, and shop had turned me down. The ones that would let me work, barely paid me enough to settle my cost of living. I had tried everything I could, and even if I had suitable experience, my class became the one thing none of my potential employers could allow. Every job required me to have a class of 4 or above.

I was defeated and confused. What is going on in this city? Why is everyone so obsessed with class? I don't understand what is going on. This is so different from Dormu.

My thoughts drifted back to Morden and his words.

Maybe I should have stayed where I was happy.

Then, the stone in my pocket became very prominent. Morden's "gift", something I put off until now. I believed that I could do something without having my life spoon fed to me, but now the alternative seems like a mercy to the tragedy that sums up my day. With a huff, I took out the map that was given to me, and looked for the address on the piece of parchment that I remember clearly.

3 Watercreek Avenue.

I made my way down, through the streets of Watercreek, which turned out to be a rather wealthy neighbourhood within the second wall. The buildings were more refurbished, and the shophouses and taverns looked renovated and well maintained. Even the outhouses looked clean and fresh. But no matter where I went, the same glances over my head continued.

The different thing is that people weren't just staring anymore. There were whispers going amongst the passersby, most of them attempting to avoid eye contact with me. I walked past all of them, pulling my cloak closer to me in an attempt to escape the unwanted attention, and the insecurity of my class flooded my mind.

I had never felt anything like it back in Dormu, the village was close enough for everyone to accept each other regardless of class or race, everyone was comfortable. Here everywhere I went, people seemed to judge me based on my class, or where I came from. It wasn't a secret I didn't belong, my clothes and complexion did enough to tell people I came from the boonies. I was not used to the level of discrimination I had to go through, and the attention I was getting was definitely not in the "favourable" area.

Whatever. I trudged onwards.

Eventually, I reached an old warehouse, with the sun setting at this point, anywhere other than the inner walls were covered in darkness, with the ominous monolith that hung over the city casting its shadow over the outer walls.

3 Watercreek Avenue, this is it.

The muddied street and mouldy walls of the alleyway looked like they haven't seen sunlight in years, and it led to the warehouse that barely stood in the distance. The orange hue of sunset cast a warm glow over the warehouse, with the only telltale sign of any human activity being a now empty cart sitting at its gate.

I walked over to the warehouse, as sounds of bickering echoed through the interior of the old warehouse, and I could distinctly hear a thick accent punctuate the air with authority as Morden argued with an unknown third party. I pushed the doors in with a creak that resonated through the inside.

The occupants went silent, and turned to see me peek my head silently through the rusty metal doors of the warehouse.

"Ah, Max, I assume ye're here about the offer, ye?" Morden's voice boomed.

"You were right, finding a job around here is harder than I thought."

"Bah! They don't see potential if it slapped them in their pompous arses. Come in!" He gestured for me to enter. I silently indulged him, walking through the gate to see the boxes the lot of them were carrying earlier piled up to one side, a tall, well-dressed man with a perfect complexion and quaffed blonde hair standing off to the side. As I met his eyes, he looked at me with interest, raising his brow.

"Ah, this is uh- Mr Alastair Vesz, our dealer we were talkin' about on the way here."

Mr Vesz extended a hand to me, with a shallow smile. When he spoke, his dulcet tones and soft voice felt oddly hypnotic.

"A pleasure, Mr…?"

"Caslight, Maximus Caslight."

I took his hand, while looking at him, trying to discern his interest in me.

"Maximus. Would you mind if I called you Max?"

"Um… sure." I hesitantly replied. He still hasn't broken eye contact.

"What matter of business do you have with Morden and his bunch?" He asked with genuine interest, but he still kept a hold of my hand.

"Just looking for a job, the rest of the city doesn't seem to want to hire me." I couldn't seem to look away from his eyes, which possessed some form of hypnotic quality that he shared with his voice.

"Don't worry about it dear, Morden might be crude, but he runs an honest ship. I can tell." He finally released my hand, and his eyes lingered on mine for a moment longer before turning back to Morden.

"So back to business, Morden. I will pay you half of what I owe you right now, the other half when I ensure that my shipment is not damaged in any sort. This is non-negotiable." Morden rubbed his temples and frowned, looking back at Mr Vesz with disdain.

"Mr Vesz, with all due respect, this deal was made long before we left to even retrieve these for ye, me and the boys want our deal RIGHT NOW." Mr Vesz retorted with a raised brow and a smirk.

"And you will get your money Morden, I simply need a day to inventory space and your payment will be mailed within the day. I swear on my word." Vesz held out a hand, bowing courteously before the shorter man. Morden frowned at him, before taking his hand and shaking it hurriedly.

Mr Vesz pulled out a pouch of coin and handed it over to the portly man, who took it with a huff.

"Ye better make damn sure I get my fuckin' money Vesz, or me and the boys ain't workin' for ye no more." Morden stomped off to join the rest of the crew, who were all fiddling their thumbs on the other side of the warehouse.

"Max! C'mere!" I heard Morden shout as I was still left awkwardly in the company of Mr Vesz. As I moved to join him, Mr Vesz held me back with a hand on my shoulder, speaking directly into my ear.

"You know they don't pay well, right Max?" I stared at him as he leaned over my shoulder. I didn't know what to say, so I remained silent as he spoke again.

"As much I hate to agree with those hooligans, I do see potential in you Max. Don't waste it." His hand left my shoulder, and I was left contemplating the meaning of his words before another booming shout snapped me out of my daze.

"Oi! Max! Get the fuck over 'ere!"

"Coming!" I ran over to the group that was leaving the warehouse. As I jogged towards them, I looked over my shoulder to find Vesz gone.

Where did he go?

Doesn't matter. I moved to join the rest of the crew.

Outside, Morden formally introduced me to the rest of the travelling merchants, Larsen, Mohsin, and Shayden. Larsen dealt with security and was the muscle, Mohsin was a skinny man with a monocle, he dealt with logistics and planning, Shayden was a fat, greedy man who held the money the group made.

"Alright, tomorrow we start work at dawn, meet us back here and we'll let ye know what ye'll be doin'. Now shoo, skedaddle, we got a long day tomorrow."

I nodded. Well that was not how I saw myself getting my first job. Morden and the rest headed off, while I was left to find my way back to my lodgings.

What I was not expecting to see when I got back was a very familiar well-dressed blonde man standing at the counter. Making pleasant conversation with the old man. With my entrance, Mr Vesz turned to me, smiling widely as he saw me come in.

"Ah! Maximus. Come, we have to discuss business." I glanced over to the old man, who seemed to have a wide smile plastered on his face, looking at Mr Vesz with a cross between admiration and awe.

"Well? If you wouldn't so mind Mr Coll, we would like to take a stroll on the premises." He told the old man, smiling sweetly at him as he got a slow nod in response.

I stood rooted at the door, questions racing through my mind as Mr Vesz held the door open for me to step out of. I carefully followed his instruction, as he smiled back at the inn owner, and stepped out.

The second he left the inn, his smile dropped and he whipped out a cigarette, lighting it, putting it to his lips and taking a deep pull. He exhaled a plume of smoke before turning to me.

"Ugh. I cannot imagine staying in that disgusting place. Please do treat yourself with some dignity, Max." I stood wide eyed, following Mr Vesz as he walked off into the night.

"Well… I don't have coin." hearing my response, Mr Vesz smiled at me with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk.

"That's what you're here for, aren't you? Money. The thing that makes the world turn." He gestured for me to follow him.

"Morden doesn't pay well. I know he prefaced that to you, but I will warn you that it is not at all close to how little you think he will pay you." He took another pull.

"Tell me, Max. Are you interested in earning more coin than you could possibly imagine?"

I nodded. He grinned at me over his shoulder.

"Then follow me."