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  Some of the citizens I passed stopped to congratulate me, and I realized I was still wearing my ceremonial uniform. I didn’t have much time to purchase new gear and get to the Stalwart before it set sail, and I couldn’t waste time talking with every second person I walked by. I rushed along the path and took a carriage to my lodgings.

  When I arrived in my room, I donned my Novice armor, in case I ran into any trouble. It was unlikely, but unexpected things could happen inside the Business Spire.

  I slipped my armored pants on, then my boots, followed by my breastplate. My rerebrace, spaulders, and gauntlets clipped together into a single item, and I pulled them over each arm and then attached them to the magneton fasteners on the chest piece.

  The Novice armor set wasn’t spectacular, so I hoped to replace at least some of it with better items. It was bulky and a little difficult to maneuver in, but it was still RTF-approved equipment.

  My final item was a surcoat I’d inherited from my father, and I flipped it over my shoulders and fastened it to my spaulders. It would obscure most of my armor so I wouldn’t cause too much of a stir while walking through the spire. I didn’t wear my helmet for the same reason.

  When I attached my gladius to my prot-belt, the memory of Tyranus whirled through my mind.

  All of my classmates had died. Alice had died. I would honor their memory. The Stalwart might not be the most prestigious starship, but I’d make the best of it.

  I packed all my remaining belongings into a duffle bag and requested the concierge to send it to the Stalwart. My steps were somewhat surer as I caught a carriage.

  While I was making my way across Bratton’s skyline, I recorded a message to Mom, letting her know everything was fine and I’d been assigned to the Stalwart for humanitarian missions. I could imagine how overjoyed she’d be when she learned I wasn’t clearing rifts on my first assignment. As soon as the message sent, I glanced up at my destination. This was the Business Spire, and I was fifty-one floors away from getting my first Squire class equipment.

  I needed to hurry my ass up if I wanted to purchase new gear and make it to the Stalwart on time.

  Chapter 4

  Hundreds of shuttles flew in and out from the many docking bays of the bulky spire. Most of the vessels would be delivering goods for the many shops and factories inside. The top half of the spire was made of the same bleached material seen throughout Bratton, but the bottom half was constructed almost haphazardly of multicolored scrap metal.

  There was one entrance to the right, leading to a private elevator. Unfortunately it was restricted to nobles, so I entered the left hand archway into the marketplace filled with my people--Outlanders.

  Our bodies tended to be leaner, stronger, and more athletic than the Core World peoples. The physical differences were slight, but they allowed for an easier regulation of our bodies’ biological rhythms on planets where rune-forming hadn’t gone perfectly.

  The predatory life forms my ancestors lived among were almost as terrible as Grendels, and we evolved to better combat those deadly enemies. The creatures on our home worlds emitted a glow from within their stomachs, and our silver irises allowed us to detect blue light easier. Eventually we wiped those monsters out, but then we’d faced a new kind of threat: human civilization.

  I’d learned to appreciate my Outlander heritage from my Mom, and there wasn’t much racism against our people outside of the “Pure-Blood” faction on the Core Worlds. Most citizens only judged Outlanders by how much wealth their family possessed, and now that I was a knight, they would only care about how many Kingdom Points I brought into the realm.

  Outlanders also loved music. Which is why on every corner I passed buskers strummed their guitars and pounded their drums while beautiful women with jingling bracelets danced in circles. Children ran barefoot, waving balloon animals over their heads. In many ways, these lower levels were like the tenements on Dobuni, and this was the closest I could get to being home.

  I couldn’t allow myself to reminisce, since I was in a rush to get my new equipment and make my way to the docks. I pushed through the crowds to reach the elevator. Many of the Outlanders gave me strange looks. At first, I thought it was because I was a walking contradiction. I might have looked like them, but my surcoat couldn’t quite obscure the light armor of the Royal Trident Forces or the sheathed gladius which swung from my prot-belt.

  Then I realized many of the people I passed would have seen the ceremony on the Cube. Massive holographic projections provided viewing in the center square of every level, and my face would have been broadcast on it only a few hours ago.

  Merchants stood in my way, and some refused to move until I looked at the minor enchantments displayed at their stalls or rested my hand on my sword hilt. Runetech designed for combat use was forbidden to civilians, but there were plenty of other things available to purchase. Sport bats built to strike an endless number of balls but not split, gowns which molded themselves to the woman wearing them, and runic implants granting their users access to virtual worlds.

  None of them interested me.

  The enchantments I’d come to buy were only available legally on the upper levels. There were some shadier stalls available on Level 8, but going there was almost as dangerous as battling a Grendel rift.

  After pushing a particularly insistent merchant out of the way, I entered the public elevator and punched in the code for Level 51. While the levels blurred as the box ascended, I thought about what I’d purchase.

  Besides a prot-belt, every member of the RTF could wear ten pieces of armor. There were slots in the belt for a helmet, a chest piece, arm pieces, shoulders, gloves, leg armor, boots, an amulet, and two rings. We could equip as many weapons as we could carry. Thanks to our strength conditioning and armor enhancements, that was a lot.

  The whole system sounded simple, but when you added in weapon effects, runes, and set item benefits, there was an entire world of augmenting possibilities.

  When the elevator doors opened, I made my way through the marble-floored corridors, almost at a run. When I nearly bowled a noblewoman over, I slowed down. But only a little.

  A sign bearing the name The Silver Rune pulsed above a shop filled with equipment. Outside the entrance, a holographic projection displayed a slideshow of the many items available for purchase.

  An attendant came alongside me as I examined the squire equipment inside the store. From the silver-colored vest worn over his white tunic, the man beside me was an enchanter. All RTF enchanters wore the silver-colored uniform. Unlike the craftsmen on the lower levels, these bore the official seal of approval from the RTF, and they prided themselves on their pristine appearance.

  “Do you see anything to your liking?” he asked.

  “To be honest, there’s so much here. I barely know where to start.”

  The man smiled at me, and as he stared a little longer, his eyebrows shot up. “You . . . You’re one of the heroes of Tyranus! Well, I think you should come with me. There are much better items out the back.”

  What I’d thought were all the Squire items in the front of the shop had been only a small selection. The attendant took me to a room that was almost impossible to walk through because of the many shelves packed tightly together, all overflowing with Runetech items.

  The enchanter walked behind me. I stopped at one shelf, noticing a sleeveless chest piece. Runes were inscribed into buckles stretched across its midsection, and without its dampener activated, the whole item glowed a dull blue. I couldn’t tell its stats from just looking at it, so I scanned it with my belt.

  Armor type: Brigandine of Might

  Absorption rating: Advanced

  Power class: Squire

  Armor effect: Negation - negates 15% of initial hit damage.

  Runes inscribed: Might

  Rune class: Squire

  Rune effects: Enhances wearer’s musculature capabilities by 30%. Can only remain active for thirty minutes due to the risk of muscle fatigue.r />
  I stared at the Brigandine of Might and imagined myself wearing it. Maybe it was overkill for humanitarian missions, but at that moment, I didn’t care. With this kind of equipment, no one would call me Poor Boy again. I’d need a two-handed weapon to best utilize its rune effect, but I possessed more than enough currency to purchase both items.

  “Is it to your liking?” the enchanter said, standing proudly beside the shelf with his arms behind his back. “It is a fine piece of armor. One of the best items available to the Squire bracket, actually. Perhaps I can show you an equipment list to complement the Brigandine of Might. What’s your total budget?”

  My heart was racing as I counted the figures in my head. I’d have to allow for Mom’s payments, as well as some currency for the new place I wanted to get her. After that, I could pretty much spend everything in my account since my food and lodgings were covered while I was aboard the Stalwart.

  “I have 3000 Kingdom Points, but I’d like to keep the total cost to under two,” I said. The enchanter’s eyebrow tweaked. Was 2000 KPs not enough?

  “Oh dear. I’m so sorry.” The store clerk frowned, and his shoulders slumped. “We don’t have anything in this store for that price. I’d really like to give you a bargain, but times are tough. Surely you’ve heard about the price hikes?”

  I shook my head. “Before I went to the Academy, 2000 KPs would have been more than two month’s wages for the average person.” Duke Barnes mustn’t have known about them either, but then he probably had rooms filled with accountants to manage his treasury.

  “A lot has happened in three years. Relations with the other kingdoms in the Triumvirate have led to an increase in taxes.” The enchanter sighed. “Typically, RTF graduates don’t come to the spire to buy their gear. You didn’t inherit any items?”

  My face melted into a frown, and I looked away from the enchanter. My dad had been a knight, but whatever he’d done in the RTF was classified. He hadn’t left Mom and me any money or Runetech gear in his will, only the Academy scholarship. As far as anyone else knew, my dad was just another Outlander who’d left his wife and son behind after gambling away everything he owned. The only people who thought otherwise were Mom and me.

  “Is there anything at all I can buy with 2000 KPs?” I asked the enchanter. “It wouldn’t have to be amazing. Functional will do.”

  Humanitarian missions might not earn me much currency, so it’d be a while until I got an upgrade. It’d probably be better to have more humble gear anyway. At least for a little while.

  “No, I’m so sorry,” the man said.

  I looked out at the vast shelves available to squires. I probably looked like an idiot, walking in here thinking I could get myself a bunch of new gear. The display lights were making the brigandine shimmer on the shelf, and I turned away from it. There had to be an enchantry somewhere in the spire selling half-decent equipment for a lower price. I’d make my way down each level until I found a store.

  Then I remembered what the duke said about the Stalwart leaving the dock in a few hours and figured I only had enough time to visit one or two shops.

  “I better be going,” I said, but the enchanter grabbed my arm to stop me.

  The man looked at his pointed shoes, as though what he was about to say wasn’t completely licit. “Listen, I know a guy on Level 8 who can help you out. His name’s Max. He’s as good as any one of us up here. He’s an Outlander like you. I probably don’t need to explain the reasons why Max couldn’t work on the upper levels. Anyway, if you’d like I can send a message through to his enchantry to let him know you’re coming.”

  The shop clerk’s offer made my mouth broaden into a massive grin. This would save me a lot of time. Then my relief was shattered when I recalled what level the enchanter mentioned. “You said Level 8, didn’t you?”

  “I know what you’re thinking. I’m sure you’ve heard stories, but the place is safe enough if you’re in and out nice and quick. It’s mostly the Wayfarers who live there now, and they’re no trouble. Max is worth enduring the few folks who might heckle you down there. You’ll not find anything you can use up here for 2000 KPs, but he’ll probably have some gear.”

  “Thanks. Please send him the message.” I waited for the enchanter, and after he’d finished the call, I thanked him. He gave me directions, and then I took one last look at the Brigandine of Might before taking an elevator bound for Level 8.

  In the reflection of the elevator’s chrome walls, I could see my cheeks were bright red. I couldn’t help my embarrassment showing on my face. The enchanter attendant had been far nicer than I’d thought a noble could be, but I still felt like a fool for even going to such a high level. With my time running short, I was glad I didn’t have to move through the levels. I figured the enchanter from The Silver Rune wouldn’t have sent me to Level 8 unless he really thought this Max guy could make good gear.

  The elevator doors opened, and I was immediately hit with the familiar ionic scent of dismantled Grendel equipment. Unlike the regulated enchanters on the upper levels, the craftsmen here didn’t care about the slightly toxic gases the dismantling process emitted. As I walked, I was surrounded by the steady clang of hammers upon workbenches and puffs of green smoke belching out from loose pipes. I didn’t see any of the Wayfarer groups the enchanter mentioned earlier, but there were dozens of workshops and micro-factories.

  Before I’d entered the Academy, I’d served on Level 14 as an apprentice enchanter. The most important thing I’d learned was to respect good craftsmanship. I’d seen the results of dodgy runic equipment that left the wearer in stasis chambers while they were repaired atom by atom.

  I’d enjoyed working as an enchanter’s apprentice, but many of the jobs weren’t exactly legal. After one too many close calls, I decided it was too risky to keep working there. Helping Mom would have been impossible from inside a jail cell. The day after I quit my job, I received a message from the RTF Academy asking why I hadn’t registered for classes yet. They told me there was a scholarship in my name and, since I was of age, I was expected to attend the very next semester.

  I came to the rusted metal building The Silver Rune’s enchanter had described. It was fashioned like a fort with a drawbridge to add some real authenticity to the primitive ensemble. The pool beneath the bridge stank like sewage, and a fleet of questionable vessels floated on top of the water.

  The doors creaked open as I approached, and I was hit with a wave of heat. Machinery stations filled the cramped enchantry, their pistons firing as workmen fed items along their conveyer belts. The enchanting process differed from almost every other industry because much of the work was still performed manually.

  Molten metal belched from a pit at the far end of the shop, and a man wearing goggles was standing beside it. I went to him as he fished out a mold with a pair of tongs.

  “Are you Max?” I yelled above the sound of machinery.

  He pulled his goggles up and rested them on his forehead between patches of wiry gray hair. “You the hero?”

  I felt awkward about everyone calling me a hero, but it was better than ‘Poor Boy,’ so I nodded.

  “Heard you wanted some decent gear at a cheap price. Don’t know I can do that for just anyone.” Max slipped his goggles back over his eyes. The spectacles elongated, and images flashed over their screens while he took a glove from the stand next to him and started drilling delicate runes along its knuckles.

  As the microscopic fragments of Arcane Dust drifted from the glove, I swallowed back the harsh air and blinked away the stinging vapors.

  I should have known I’d have problems getting gear even on Level 8. Time was running out for me to get to the Stalwart. This guy was going to have to sell me something, even if it was the worst gear in his shop.

  “I’m about to set sail on the Stalwart, and I need gear,” I yelled over the sound of the other workers in the shop.

  Max paused midway through a rune. Without taking off his goggles, he jerked his head
toward me. “You say the Stalwart?”

  “Yes, sir. The ship will be leaving in a few hours, and I need gear.”

  “That can’t be right. If you’re the hero, whose cereal did you shit in to get assigned to that dogpile?”

  “It was because of a misunderstanding, but it’s my assignment now. One I’m hoping to make the best of, and I’ll need equipment to do that, sir.”

  The enchanter sighed, put down his drill, and removed his goggles. “What gear do you need, kid?”

  “Some basic Squire items.” The Novice equipment the Academy had allowed me to keep was functional, but it wouldn’t last for the duration of my assignment on the Stalwart even if we were just doing humanitarian missions. Low-quality Dust faded with time, and the gear would lose their magical properties in a few months. Then I’d have to spend countless hours repairing the armor and sword.

  Max grunted, but he stood and walked over to a wall filled with metal cabinets. He started pulling the drawers open and tossed items onto the ground. Before long, there was a pile of equipment a meter high.

  “First thing you’ll need is a decent prot-belt.” The enchanter walked up to me. Suddenly, his hands were around my waist as he removed my gladius, unclipped my old belt, and fitted me with a new one. “Fits you well. The good thing about this particular Squire belt is your forcefield recharges. It’s pretty slow, mind you, but it’s a godsend when you’re in a bind.”