My Newfound Occupations

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Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Fire & Stone

~ CHAPTER 9 ~

<< My Newfound Occupations >>

[BEGIN]

___________________________________

~ THE ONE TRUTH BANK ~

< CENTRAL ARCELIAZE BRANCH >

ACCOUNT 41470-B

TO: ADELAIDE IMPERATOR OF KOLLOVAN

HATCH DATE: VIOSNA 22ND 4T95

ACCOUNT BALANCE: 18750 P

INVESTMENTS: NONE

___________________________________

The deposit receipt fluttered in the wintery wind as I walked down the road from the bank. On it I could see all the information regarding my newly opened bank account. This was apparently one of the higher-end banks, fitting for one attempting to pretend at being nobility.

It’d been 100 coins simply to open the account.

Another 150 was snugly secure in the complimentary tote bag the teller had given – a special this week only for new accounts. How nice. Along with it came a booklet with stamps to let me write bank notes to my account, an easy way to pay without needing coins.

I hiked up the lightweight bag at my side- nothing as fashionable as what I might have carried back home, but it would serve me well. If nothing else, I would appear put-together while seeking new employment, and not as a wretch stumbling about and searching for coins.

Now, with the morning still only at its halfway mark, I stood in the Market District, in the shade of a large building housing an indoor market. It was clear today, and the ground was wet with melted snow. As ever, Arceliaze’s roads were alight with activity of Poke’mon walking to and fro in front of me.

The rumble of the market district was faint. A good atmosphere to collect myself…

…and plot my first move.

‘The Banquet Upon Paradise’.

I had seen that name before, whilst traveling through the New District… even as I wandered from the bank’s unfamiliar doorstep, I had learned something of the layout of Arceliaze. My paws trudged through the melted snow and chilling stone, as I worked my way towards the North Gate once again.

…I’d be travelling near that bookkeeper and her dark mag-

Rather…her…odd Poke’mon abilities, in my trek.

Even looking toward the store sent a chill through my spine, one that Arcea’s winter could not replicate. But I stood strong, stared along the stone road, and marched on with a calm smile lingering on my face.

For my first goal would be that catering business the guild patronized so often, one that Siranae had mentioned: ‘The Banquet Upon Paradise’. I would need to observe the establishment, for the Audino had spoken of two businesses, the other being ‘Sula & Torlynni’. I needed to someone figure out which one was tending to the Prista Banquet…if it even was either of them and not a third business I was unaware of.

I traveled down the road, weaving through the sea of Poke’mon, all in the shadow of the massive ornate buildings that surrounded. The familiarity gave me a measure of poise. This was more and more becoming my land.

Just as I did in Milan or Bologna, I could now weave through the crowds and streets with confidence.

“1P ARCEALI GAZETTE! MURDER ON MAIN ROAD!” A voice cried on the side of the street by the book store. It seemed the store was quite a bit more busy today than yesterday as news of last night’s sordid event spread.

In every direction I could hear…whispers. Rumors.

“To think…in Arceliaze…”

“The Illamini Op Arceali aren’t gunna like this…”

“What’d she own? Oh Arceus, my stocks…”

I slid past the hulking and swaying forms of the strange Poke’mon, although their words were not lost on me… the death of that ‘Varsae’ had rocked the civilians, far more than the feline who knew her. But even the regular Poke’mon seemed more afraid of what it would do to them, or their own earnings.

Disgraceful…

I glanced over the newspaper with some mixture of morbid curiosity and vitriol…

THE 1P ARCEALI GAZETTE

–

PIEYRSHVE, ZSHIMA 50, 5T12

MURDER ON MAIN RD

–

HARK! HARK ONE AND ALL THAT YOU MAY BE MADE VERY AWARES! IN THE WEE HOURS OF THE FRESH NIGHT OF KONSOVA, Z49 5T12 A MURDER OF GRUSOME DETAIL AND VILLAINOUS TRECHARY TOOK PLACE UPON THE HALLOWED STONES OF ARCELIAZE AND THE KILLER IS STILL AT LARGE.

At the current stage we know not many of the details of the murder and everything has been kept under investigation. But what follows are the current details that have been provided by TEAM GOLD of the ARCEALI GUILD:

Firstly, the victim was identified as Varsae of the 44th Duphimevini House of Commerce and Shipments, who was visiting Arcea on various business including fundraising and her different business operations. From the details given it appears the Illaminian noble had several debts owed to different noble houses.

Secondly, the murder took place during a strange lull in foot traffic on the main RD, equal distance from the ‘Ruby’ intersection and the ‘Sapphire’ intersection. Eye witnesses claim a fog rolled over around the time due to a sudden weather occurrence. In addition, night-run shipments were scheduled going across Ruby and Sapphire street, causing a gap in foot traffic that apparently made the streets deserted.

Third, an eyewitness report claims the murder was perpetrated by strange Poke’mon wearing skull masks, but this has been refuted by the guild. Readers will recall of another murder in Souljraan where the perpetrators were claimed to have been wearing similar attire, and again in Laesi a year earlier. However, both of these cases were attributed to local folklore interfering with the case and the real perpetrators were apprehended and brought to justice.

However, the scale of these murders pale in comparison to the assassination that has taken place in Arceliaze. We are receiving word that the Illaminian aristocracy bother living domestically and abroad are in uproar about the murder and are demanding an audience with the Conduit and her board of advisors at once. The safety of Illaminian nobles in Arcea has been called into question, but Conduit Lippi has sent a message via herald that security will be maintained and the Illaminian district will remain heavily protected from any such treachery.

IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION REGARDING THE SORRY MURDER OF PUCOMI DUNNISDOU I TQIFOBOUPO #44 VARSAE, REPORT TO THE ARCEALI GUILD AND 1P ARCEALI GAZETTE ARCELIAZE CHAPTER AT ONCE!

I scoffed as I read.

Sure enough, what Siranae and I had seen was reduced to hearsay- the testimony of the witnesses was nothing to the ears of the indignant.

No matter- Arceliaze would pursue its own futile business, and I would pursue a fruitful one in its place. For one, Souljraan and Laesi were other targets in this grisly matter… other places I would have to bring myself, if not also Siranae.

Yet more work, and yet more tragedy completely untouched by that Arceali Guild…

I huffed and continued reading:

Understaffing woes at ‘Sula & Torlynni’

As the latest Arceali Guild banquet hosted by the House of Prista draws near the catering company that lost the bid, ‘Sula & Torlynni’, have expressed concerns over staffing issues, just as ‘The Banquet Upon Paradise’ expressed similar concerns.

The general manager of the catering projects, Lukus, was quoted in saying ‘While I’ve no doubt we’ll meet our deadlines we are, at the moment, pressed for time in getting everything ready. However, we also refuse to lower our standards of hiring, for the sake of our clients. Every bottle of Eksai stolen is a price hike for the customer, and that’s something we never want.’

Lukus wished for the 1P ARCEALI GAZETTE, among other publications, to inform the public that if any readers know Poke’mon of noble quality and positive repute to please direct them to the ‘Sula & Torlynni’ hiring office in the Upper New District, 226 Platinum Road. They are hiring for immediate work on several banquet projects.

“A PAR-FECT WURLDE FER GREEDY GUTS GAMBO”

This article softened my expression, the one about ‘Sula &Torlynni’.

Their ‘lost bid’ no doubt referred to a lack of business, meaning I had done well to pursue ‘The Banquet Upon Paradise’… but, even more wonderful, both of the business had expressed hiring woes. Siranae’s information had not only held true, but stood for both of my potential employers.

All that remained was to make use of one, or weaponize it against another in pursuit of my work.

I stuffed the inked pages into my new satchel, patting the ridges and bumps to settle its appearance- and once more trotted to the catering business before me.

I could not waste a thought on the events of last night yet. Varsae, a fellow noblewoman… the wrongs upon her would be righted in due time. If not by the guild’s meager efforts, then by my own shepherding of the chaos of Arceliaze.

As I pulled onto this new street the first sign that I had the right place was a depot of carriages, each of them festooned with flowers and beautiful designs. They were parked in a small garage sat beside a large building, with a few workers tending to them.

This entire street was similarly decorated. Flower arrangements ran overhead along with golden threads running betwixt the rooftops like a canopy of opulence, twinkling in the sunlight.

And there, a colorful sign above a colored door read:

~ The Banquet Upon Paradise ~

A set of double doors stood in front of me, easily pushed open despite their size.

The front desk I was greeted with carried with it the same prestige that the outside did. I had, in truth, grown numb to the gold trimming and murals of fields and floating islands by now. It was entirely clear: this was an establishment that any noble would trust to cater their events. I puffed quietly, looking across the now-gaudy decor- if I hadn’t known there were cultural reasons for some of those murals, I’d take them for entirely vapid fancies of the elite. Still, their presence was assurance enough that I was in the right place.

My eyes locked with the Poke’mon at the front counter, which was a strange pink creature. Pink eyes stared curiously at me, the position of its green-tipped pink hands reminding me of something akin to a preying mantis.

The sight of the mantis-like creature was not entirely pleasant… even if it was more pleasing in shape than a pure insect, the fact that it stood taller than me gave me pause. But, nonetheless, I strode forward with refined confidence.

“Good evening,” I said with a gentle tone. My digits kneaded lightly on the strap of my bag. “This would be ‘The Banquet Upon Paradise Catering’, would it not? I had come hoping to offer my services under employment here- if there would be room for more staff, of course.”

And, as I knew, there was such room- but it was up to this clerk to affirm or rebut that truth. All I could do is act firmly and yet not overstate myself- the servers of nobility would certainly have higher standards than some brute looking for a paycheck.

The tall bug woman’s look of curiosity now immediately turned to one of scrutiny as I spoke. Her pincers settled down on the carved desk as she looked me up and down.

“My…whatever makes you think we need it?” The woman spoke, her voice light and elegant but no less cutting. At once, she was trying to cut down the proposal…

…which certainly matched up to what Siranae had said before. To think they would act like this when short-staffed and struggling…or at least, that was the case according to Siranae…

I had almost forgotten how stubborn and ill-natured the Poke’mon of Arcea could be.

But I’d tangled with them in verbal combat before- I could do so again.

I have to remember always Kalae’s words. The lies must be few, information given kept to a minimum. The less points of attack that I give this woman the better for myself.

An exploratory approach is a safe option, no presumption, no attack.

SCOUTING:

Is hiring truly stringent?
Is this establishment low on workers?
Is this establishment servicing Prista’s Banquet?

RISKS:

Is it more important to be seen as strong or to be seen as graceful? Will showing weakness with concerned gestures and fidgets give this woman an opening?
Is this woman a high-ranking employee/manager or only a basic service woman?

Keep the lies few… but in turn, truth reveals. It is not simple to be truthful and yet discreet- but I’ll manage the balance as much as I can.

FIRST STEP: Relent from a presumptuous standpoint- test the waters as a less hostile presence.

I pressed a paw to my mouth, giving a soft gasp as though worried.

Giving the woman importance and a visage of worry that I offended her may charm but may also weaken standing. Adjust body language.

My shoulders squared slightly. Slight forward lean. Back straight. Head slight left turn and tilt.

Firm but respectful
Understanding the power dynamic but not prostrating myself to the woman
Eases on the risk if they’re a manager.

From my own knowledge, small-yet-pivotal businesses that served nobles often have even their owners managing calls and appointments, as if a common assistant.

However, whether owner or subordinate, I know her work as a manager of clientele and possible employment merits some degree of respect.

“Well, I do not mean to assume, no…” I said. “but the mother of a dear friend of mine, a caterer of many years…”

Even though my information had come from Siranae, it would be easier to put the onus of intelligence upon Mama, and her years of service.

“…she had told me that this establishment had some use for other-“

WORD CHOICE: ‘diligent hands’ – plays into strength but will reduce visage of grace. Diligence is an implied trait, pride in diligence might be seen as a ‘rabble’ trait.

“-capable hands?”

Woman may put on further strong airs. Might be offended at implication that they have run the business inadequately.

The woman before me flicked her head at my response. She remained silent as I explained and posited no question after my ‘source’ of information – it seemed she did not care.

“Not from some lack of quality, no…” I continued. “Simply from the high demands of illustrious clients.”

The offer to simply be another helping hand to an already well run business adds-in subtle flattery that shall slip right by, augmenting grace further.
Not pressing a lack of employees, but instead offering that simply more workers could be of benefit.

Break monotonous pose, readjust tone.

Body shift:

Keep strong but give a shift nonetheless.
Followed by body language anxiety if the position has been filled.

I shifted on the spot, my head adjusting. Mouth pulled slightly down. Slight bunching of shoulders.

The woman’s eyes flicked.

STRENGTH SLIGHT HIT: She looked me up and down as I shifted, but my word choice of ‘illustrious clients’ avoided further damages to my visage.

Word choice…I must be careful. Using the word choice ‘vacancy’, bringing up the restaurant’s weakness again, even if it’s one they’ve admitted to themselves…that can be risky. Too risky.

“I would understand if this is not the case- I trust The Banquet Upon Paradise to manage its important work- but…”

POWER MOVE: Mention of Prista’s Banquet will act as a strong reminder of the establishment’s obligation.

But the point will be wielded as a weapon against the woman.
However, this will also counter her attack.

“…there are quite a number of social touchstone events approaching, such as Conveytion Prista’s banquet.”

COUNTER: I heard it. A quiet sigh, quick and annoyed, when I mentioned Prista’s banquet.

EVIDENCE:

A small piece of evidence that this is indeed the establishment hosting the Banquet.
Still uncertain.

2ND POWER MOVE: Describing my employment as ‘services’ augments strength;

Separates myself from being an employee
Makes me seem more like an independent contractor selling my work to this establishment struggling with help.

“I had pondered if my services could be of assistance in such a time.”

Backing off of ‘vacancy’ to avoid a presumption of a job for myself, removing any specific application of Prista’s banquet in case I’ve assumed wrong and this establishment is NOT servicing it.

Appealing to knowledge both public and private.

Meet her gaze. It will improve my visage of strength, lending more credence at my ability to help.

The firm stare once more, respectful but unbroken- a Buizel simply here to do business, and ready to adhere to any social norms as such. A degree of knowledge and respectful indifference to show that I can leave, if such a position is not available to me.

The woman’s body shifted now.

Her Head tilted forward. Shoulders raised by half centimeter. Arm brought closer as I mentioned ‘services’.

POSE: SLIGHTLY DEFENSIVE

CONCLUSION:

Nobles and those looking to play at their mannerisms can be a minefield. One errant twitch or misspoken can spiral their thinking out of my control.

Finicky. Difficult. Opposed to even a modicum of respect that is not pried from their own jaws… truly, suitable to the mere caterers of the upper class.

But I will manage as I can, under this strain.

“Illustrious clients, yes.” The woman attempted to recover her position, keeping herself firm. It was an attempt to keep herself elevated over me. “There are few words to describe sheer importance of our work and clientele.”

She re-positioned her conversational stance.

“We’ve important work even now. It requires both speed and grace unparalleled. The touch of a Poke’mon that does not falter to pressure as to turn to a crumpled, sorry display that offends those clients that expect everything of us and timely so.”

ATTACK: ATTEMPTING TO SCARE ME WITH NATURE OF THE WORK

Arms moved from chest. Shoulders lowered. Posture straightened.

POSE: OFFENSIVE

“Oh but how rude…all this said and we’ve not even shared introductions…”

ATTACK: FORCING ME TO MAKE FIRST INTRODUCTION TO HER.

This woman was strong. Quick on her feet.

And, perhaps more notably… desperate to destroy me as quickly as possible. Either a sign of weakness, and a need to do away with inferior candidates… or stalwart proof of her denial of me.

I could only press on.

STATE: Precarious position.

FIRST STRIKE: A smile in the face of this woman’s attempt to dissuade me is a clear power move.

Move not a muscle in the face, let not the eye twitch and she will see her words have brushed by me and had no effect.

I smiled with unfiltered warmth, my resolve unbroken. My paw rose to my cheek.

SLIGHT GIVE: Taking initiative to introduce myself at her request reduces strength and positions her over me, but:

Speaks to a polite subservience.

“Of course-“

“I should make myself known, yes?” – FALTER: Asking if I should make myself known, even rhetorical, has opened me up to criticism, as though I need to be guided.

To instead say ‘I would be pleased’ is a microcosm of the service work ahead.

“I would be pleased to make myself known.” I said. I gave soft giggle, locking in my position. “My name is Adelaide Imperator.”

BACKGROUND:

“While I cannot profess to be nobility” – FATAL: To say I am not nobility will destroy my grace. Modesty can be achieved with silence as much as it can with words.

ADJUSTMENT: Establish proximity to nobility, but no more.

Difficult.

“I have lived in proximity of nobility for some years…”

PER KALAE: Give as little information as possible.

QUICK STRIKE: Getting to the heart of the matter, professing my familiarity likely to emboldens my visage of strength.

“…and I can assure you, I am well-versed in tending to every minute detail of a banquet, or a gala, or whatever may catch the fancy of this establishment’s prestigious clients.”

Now, I must present a physical display of grace, deliberate.

The woman’s eyes were burrowing into me, those pupils behind red lenses darting over my every feature, every twitch, taking note of every pause and for how long.

Endlessly difficult.

I held my paws to my front, tails twirling slowly, trying to show grace amidst my supposed eagerness.

If this woman is to scrutinize then I shall let her scrutinize and drink from my features all she can and see only grace.

“And, of course… a caterer that catches the eye of-“

“the Arceali Guild” – FATAL: To mention the Arceali Guild, an esteemed establishment, speaks to ulterior motives. This woman may catch such.

“-the city’s elite- enough to serve even the highest nobles’ needs-“

PROSTRATE: Claim it an honor to work here, to flatter and further lower myself to subservience. However, Flattery is always a risk…

It was hard to imagine what applicant this woman would accept, when this kind veneer warranted such scrutiny…

“I should find it an honor to provide myself to such an establishment.”

CHECK: To play my hand regarding ‘Sula & Torlynni’ at this point is to put the enemy in check. But the game is young…

ADJUST TONE: Do not make a threat to take up the Sula & Torlynni job offering if I am not given the position. Sula and Torlynni is not my first choice…

“I would be quite loathe to instead take up the offers of ‘Sula & Torlynni’…”

SNEAK ATTACK: …but it is a choice.

There was little I could do but stride the delicate balance between subservience and defiance, between street rat and falsified identity.

I kept the woman’s gaze, manifesting all I could to seem unfazed.

CONCLUSION: The prioritization of grace and subservience at least lends myself to not being a common vagrant nor a server from some Old District gutter bar.

Attacks parried.
Still presenting myself as controllable.
Only risk taken is that of Flattery.

The woman’s eyes drank in my every detail.

Every twitch of my face, every lift and dive of my inflection.

As I did thus to her as well.

“Hm.” Came her quizzical reply.

STALLING. ADVANTAGE GROWING.

The woman’s green pincers set upon the desk. Slight forward lean. Eyes squinted.

ATTENTION SECURED.

MOOD: UNKNOWN. HER FACE HAS NOT BUDGED.

“Mistress Julnii.” The pink mantis said at last, leaning back and fixing her posture once more. “General regional manager of the Arceliaze root of ‘The Banquet Upon Paradise’, among other things.”

PHASE ONE PASSED. PHASE TWO COMMENCES NOW.

NEW INFORMATION: WOMAN IS OF HIGH AUTHORITY

INFERENCES:

The regional manager manning the front desk speaks to abysmal staffing.
A lack of doubling-down on her deterrence speaks to a broiling desperation.
The lobby is completely empty. No noises from the back. No greeters nor anyone to take coats. All staff must be on-duty.

The woman leaned back, her pincers fluffing up the frills atop her head as she stepped around the counter.

POSITION LOWERED – Mistress Julnii has removed the high point of the counter.

In that brief pause I took a moment to absorb the surroundings of the lobby.

No awards or accolades were displayed. The reputation must have spoken for itself.

Tile floor. Unswept and scuffed. Nobody had been to tidy it recently, like due to staffing.

Expensive chandelier above. Paid for no doubt by exclusively noble clientele.

But the front desk was small and modest and old. It seemed business came in waves and not everything could be replaced at once.

To the right of the desk, a hallway. I could see boxes stacked in the hall. Messy, disorganized.

Between staffing woes and a slight lack of upkeep, business was clearly not booming, despite the clientele.

The establishment seemed to be working themselves down to the bone to keep what few clients they had…or had left, perhaps. That made it possible this guild banquet of Prista’s was important, even moreso than I’d originally thought.

My observations were broken as the pink mantis stood before me, towering, looking down with a look like the face of politeness meant to appear as an intimidating visage of stoicism.

Pincers behind the back. Lips thin. Head cocked to the left, trying to keep only one eye on me.

Half second hesitation.

“You should know many a Poke’mon wish to earn their keep catering as it is prestigious work. Congratulations are in order, Miss, for you have coaxed more than two sentences from me before being shooed.” Mistress Julnii said, her voice curt but with the distinct lift of high society, or at the very least one emulating the mannerisms. “Tell me, if you please, then, what experience exactly would you have in the line of service? Proffer to me your wisdom of Balls and Banquets that I might judge you, whether to hire you on the spot or throw you to street.”

ATTACK: Immediate challenge. All or nothing ultimatum.

POWER MOVE: False praise, laced with threat of being dismissed.

“And do be quick about it. Neither I nor my clients like their time wasted.”

POWER MOVE: Managerial role has been flaunted to tower over me.

TIMED: Every moment spent thinking of the best response will be judged more harshly. The quicker I can developer my answer, the better.

Mistress Julnii couldn’t afford to deny the extra help- I couldn’t afford to waste the chance, under her scrutiny.

“I’ve attended,” I said with a smile, glancing to one of the unclean tiles, “…and upkept almost a dozen banquets in my youth…”

Broken eye contact. Mistress Julnii’s eyes flitted over to where I glanced…and returned to me the moment she saw the unclean tiles. Her posture straightened, attentive.

CHOSEN WORD: “upkept” – subtle implication of solo work.

TIME FRAME: A dozen banquets + in my youth – implies experience through repetition and time length.

Mistress Julnii’s brow furrowed, frown deepened, but eyes remained locked on me. Shoulder dropped. Face is a facade, her expressions were in her complete control, but her body was not.

From here, I kept my gaze on her- she was the recipient of my offer, and she could not escape to those grand tales of her business as my employer.

One half second passed.

My paw pressed to my chest, my smile unbroken. I would balance these half-truths as much as possible.

“I am not some blowhard who carries a banquet on her back,-“

HUMILITY – Required statement, but current phrasing risks a hit to image. Modifier required.

“- of course.”

My smile remained firm. Quick pause, then I continued:

“But I am assiduous,”

ASSIDUOUS – Strong word choice.

“and attentive…”

ATTENTIVE – Required attribute.

“…to the needs of my valued guests.”

GUESTS – Uncommon phrasing, separates me from street rabble.

Assuring that I am not some blowhard or overly capable worker, but not backing down from my supposed prowess.

LIKELY RESPONSE: She will adjust strategy down to specific questions.

“Hmph…” Was Mistress Julnii’s reply.

Tone shift – conceding.

Mistress Julnii turned.

Her head lagged, keeping her gaze on me for one half-second after her body was fully turned.

Interest locked in.

She lifted a pincer, waving for me to follow.

ACCEPTABLE POWER MOVE: Taking position of leader through her establishment.

“I’ve no doubt you’re all those things…” Mistress Julnii began. “Though any of those waiters or X-Eye slop vendors can.”

WORD CHOICE: THOSE – Separation from rabble, piercing inner circle.

The pink mantis woman straightened her posture, pincers behind her back, footsteps clacking upon the tile as she led me down the darkened hall.

“But then, we Banquet attendants are a mite more busy. Both with preparation and the event itself. An event must be planned, in activities and visuals, a curated experience from the moment the guests hand in their ticket to the moment they cross the threshold back outside the world we craft.”

WORD CHOICE: ‘We’. Pierced inner circle further.

STRATEGY ADJUST: Dazzling. Conceding, hoping to break my temperament with an apparently early victory.

I watched her with supposed rapt interest, offering only a single nod at the end of her drivel. My eyes shut, as if contemplative.

Another half-second of silence. We both passed by the stack of boxes and a set of double doors marked ‘DEPOT’, and a set of doors on the left marked ‘MEETING ROOM’, numbered 1 to 5.

FIRST: COUNTER DAZZLING.

“The importance and weight of it is undeniable, of course…I want those guests to have the delightful,-“

“almost magical world” – ADJUST: ‘Magical’ likely to be seen as juvenile.

“- elegant world they are owed.”

Mistress Julnii turned her head as she walked. Her expression was unchanged, but her eyes now scanned over me and my new posture.

STATE: No disdain visible, though may be masked.

Gait is even.
Body turned slightly to give her a better view of me.
Pincers have moved back to her front, relaxed.

“Yes, of course.” The mantis woman said, her steps clacking upon the smooth tile. “Well, you’ve wandered in here at an interesting time, it seems. For we find ourselves in the midst of work both endlessly challenging and also very routine.”

Her expression shifted. A smirk.

CHALLENGE

“But, then, I suppose you’d not have heard of the Architecture Guild Banquet.” Julnii said, almost smugly, as though it was now her time to lord information over me, setting me up to overwhelm and crack.

The both of us passed by glass doors leading out to an event garden and another leading to banquet halls and kitchens and warehouses.

Unfortunately, barring the similar name to Prista’s banquet, I’d not made efforts to know of any other upcoming events… at the risk of seeming daft, I could only pass the baton back to Mistress Julnii.

“No, I haven’t heard specifics. My abode being outside of Arceliaze proper, I’ve only just brushed up on current affairs-” I shifted my weight, calm demeanor not fading, even as my smile waned. “Why do you ask, Mistress Julnii?”

Mistress Julnii’s mouth shifted, the small upturn in her mouth vanishing.

Slow breath intake, gaze wandering toward the doors.

Her pincer raised, flicking as though waving away my ignorance.

“Well, I do welcome you to the city, then.” Mistress Julnii huffed with a subtle roll of her eyes. “If you must know we here at ‘The Banquet Upon Paradise’ have found ourselves servicing a most prestigious client. In thirty days, Conveytion Prista herself shall host a banquet and conference at the most ancient, renown and sacred ballrooms in Arceliaze, second only to the heart of Castle Arceali itself.”

She lifted a pincer to her chin, a faked gesture as though she were in thought. The motion was slow, but it seemed many nobles and noble-adjacent Poke’mon gesticulated in what could only be described as ‘poses’.

“It is our usual line of work and hardly a fuss needed.” She gloated in that soft trill. “If you mean to try and mingle with our lot then the preparation of that Banquet would be your, shall we say, trial by fire. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that a Conveytion is no mere tradesmon or petty money-grubber playing at nobility.”

Mistress Julnii let out a laugh, one it seemed she tried to make sound evil.

“I’ve an eye for detail and wield a protractor like a whip. I’ve expelled workers for mere inches of imperfection.” The pink mantis continued her gloating as she led me near the end of the hall. “And still, yet, you wish to be among our ranks?”

I stared into the woman’s heartless gaze, my steps perhaps quickened. Was her self-serving idolatry meant to distress me? I could only imagine why the staffing concerns had arisen…

“Yes,” I spoke. “A Conveytion is a worthy recipient of the talents of ‘The Banquet Upon Paradise’… as are any of your vaunted clients, yes? Not simply those whose coin pouches shine the brightest.”

A simple swipe to turn her gloating back at her. More petty than tactful- I had not meant to speak so curtly.

“But Conveytion Prista- she deserves only the finest Arceliaze can offer. Her grace would be an honor to serve.” I finished.

The pink mantis stopped in her tracks at the end of the hall as the final word of mine died off.

Mistress Julnii stood there a moment, letting a silence hang in the air for a moment.

Two moments.

Swish

She spun upon her thin legs. Her arms open, chest exposed, head lifted, staring down at me.

STANCE: Domineering

“I see you understand that the good word of a reputable source is often more valuable than coin itself.” She said…her face was turned up in a smile.

Then, her left arm STRUCK the door beside her, flinging it open.

A warm gust billowed over me.

A loud noise and clatter filled the hall.

My body barely flinched from the strike- I had learned better than to show distress in the face of a so-called superior. What lied beyond it was more pressing.

Beyond the threshold of that opened door there was no more opulence.

No more exquisite decorations.

All I saw was a dirty stone floor, stained wood walls supported by thick wood beams.

Boxes and carts decorated the inside.

Betwixt the boxes were Poke’mon who looked out of place amongst the dingy surroundings. Each of them wore make up and some wore jewelry, and each wore a clean dark green apron…

…and despite their looks, they were loading boxes onto carts.

Manual labor.

A soft, malicious trill came from Mistress Julnii.

“I’m sure you won’t mind starting immediately, in that case~. There’s much to do and no time to dally.” Her voice spoke venomously. “Anything for our clients, as you said, yes~?”

I gazed out over the dirtied… nobles? Even those with wealth and purpose found themselves under Mistress Julnii’s vicious pincers. Her business seemed to be more of a trap…

But, at least, I would not have to feel out of place as a well-to-do girl forced into labor. It would perhaps be nice to see some of Arcea’s upper class toil, whether or not I was toiling beside them.

I blinked, and looked up to Mistress Julnii with a nod.

“Yes… of course.” I said, firmly. “The finest that Arceliaze has to offer must be ever-diligent…”

I stepped past her into the darkened room, body relaxed, muzzle gritting its teeth in frustration now that I’d left her full eyesight.

I’d wrung myself out and bent the knee for this job, now it was… time to enjoy it and work.

“Oh the diligence is no question, dear.” The tall mantis cooed, stepping in with me, but only just so, standing at the exit like a lord would over servants.

Many of the workers slowed or paused their work, shimmering eyes looking my way, all to look at he new blood. Their sloth, however brief, was put a stop to by one gaze from the Mistress, her eyes darting from one girl to another. The moment a worker met Julnii’s gaze they returned to their work in silence, eyes down.

After another moment of uncomfortable silence, Mistress Julnii turned her gaze over to a strange orange lizard about my height. The most striking thing about this Poke’mon was the tip of their tail, clearly caught aflame…yet seeming to not cause any distress for anyone in the room, including the lizard herself.

“You.” Mistress Julnii’s voice cut the air like a knife, making the orange lizard set her box down at once. She turned on her heel, hands at her front, eyes closed. She bent forward in a half-bow. A blue pearl necklace swayed around her neck like a noose.

It was…very practiced.

“Mistress.” The lizard woman spoke clearly and curtly. The pink mantis smirked, straightening herself as she wielded her position like a cudgel, beating workers into silent submission.

“Fresh blood joins us today. She claims experience, so I expect you to put that to the test.” Mistress Julnii said, seeming to enjoy the sound of her voice echoing over the warehouse. “See to it she accompanies you on your delivery. Let me hear no more complaints from the Arceali Guild members that you were in their way.”

“Of course, Mistress…”

I held my tongue, and still pondered… what foulness could possess a woman to show such fury at even her stalwart workers? Let alone, to those that met her obscene standards and still endured to this season of ‘short-staffing’? Had she beaten them down beyond a point of any resistance?

It was eerie to witness Julnii’s blade-like arms sway and swing, knowing she’d sooner cleave the poor lizard’s head off than lower her own voice by a decibel. The creatures of Arceliaze could be so cruel to their fellow beings- not even the most craven human nobles would demean and disturb their subordinates as she had…

…not… that I had seen, at the least. Those that had served under Uncle Enzo and the estate, I had little to do in their management… I supposed, when behind closed doors- but- but this was still too far. Still unnatural.

I strode behind Mistress Julnii once addressed, wasting no time in needing to be called for what was obviously my ‘task’. Even if her wretched lungs had not bellowed for me, the mention of the Arceali Guild and its cohorts had drawn my interest.

“It is a pleasure to work with you…” I muttered at the lizard’s volume, pronounced enough to be heard, but muted enough to defer to the Mistress. Even with my odder anatomy, I knelt briefly in a curtsy. “My name is Adelaide- I hope to be of service.”

There was another trill behind me. The lizard did not yet dare answer my greeting.

“Well then, chop chop, everyone.” I could heard Julnii’s voice. “You know today’s milestone; and I shant accept any excuses now that you have another set of hands.”

She stepped back, her sharp footsteps clacking against the dirty stone. She spoke again, words directed to me, but voice projected to the congregation. I was now just another face among them.

“Payment is upon the end of day at the front desk. Just three hours left. Don’t disappoint me.”

Another tense moment. Loud footsteps rang.

Then…

a wooden slam rocked the warehouse.

And a long sigh rolled over the atmosphere, exhaled by everyone in the warehouse, including the woman that stood next to me as she lifted herself back up, blue eyes opening at last. Against my better judgment, I joined the workers in that collective sigh. That woman had been a nightmare in but a few short minutes- what would a month under her tutelage do to a girl?

My senses returned to me, and I met the lizard woman’s gaze.

“She has… quite a presence to her, does she not?” I said. “Not unlike a death knell on a Sunday morning…”

I pressed a paw to my chest.

“I apologize for the tension I invoked.” I said the lizard woman. “What is your name, and… well, what shall we be taking care of today?”

The orange lizard gave me a sideways glance. She didn’t look upset…her face was more akin to that of someone giving a soft warning.

“I beg you do not speak of Mistress Julnii that way…she is a personal friend of Conveytion Alea and we’d all do well to be in her good graces…”

From her tone of voice it was easy to tell this was a line of thinking well embedded into the girl. She heaved a sigh, bringing her hands to her chest, brow furrowing.

“Nevermind the tension. I do welcome you to ‘The Banquet Upon Paradise’. I would be Tradeswoman Shala, daughter of the Tradesmon of Lesha Holdings.” The Yellow lizard replied to my query with another half-bow. “The other girls are waiting for more tables at the Arceali Guild Ballroom, thus I was loading these boxes to this cart just now to deliver them.”

She gestured a clawed hand to what looked like a few boxes made of a thick and light material, white in color, like paper but much more sturdy. They were rectangular shaped, with a few leaned against a pillar that stood next to a rather lavishly colored wagon sporting reds and golds and four smart green wheels.

Indeed, the cart, just as the workers, clashed greatly with the dingy warehouse. But, then, the workers and the cart were to be seen outside, so naturally both had to keep up appearances, it seemed.

The façade of beauty and grace was as thorough as it was insidious… but, I supposed, I enjoyed being allowed to share that façade. Even a few days of wandering the streets left a girl yearning for her former dignity…

“Thank you for your welcome… and, how may I offer my assistance?” I stepped closer, moving to scan over the prettied cart from its front end. “Is there yet more to load for this delivery? I should not want to dally on Mistress Julnii’s time…”

In truth, I worried I’d tipped my hand too soon- that this beleaguered girl would sooner turn me over rather than sympathize with my initial concerns. But it mattered not, so long as I behaved, and made myself useful.

“Just the few boxes.” Shala replied with a huff. “I was about to have to make two trips but we can simply load another cart and you take the other one…”

The girl took one of the white boxes in hand, nodding her head towards another, identical cart on the other side of the depot.

“And we must be sure to stack the boxes neatly; Mistress Julnii will certainly hear if we pull carts that are disastrous to look at.” The woman continued. “Please, let us be quick…”

Her voice was so quiet, as though she was scared to disturb. The other girls, all of various shapes and sizes and species, and each with their own adornments, were similarly silent, eyes cast to the ground as they loaded carts or prepared boxes.

It seemed the boxes were purely for aesthetics while in transit, for the tables looked very well used and some even seemed a little old. Nothing that was being packed was new by any means.

There was a small pause in my steps – we were pulling these carts ourselves? Was there not a horse-beast or such we could enlist for an easier task…?

I did not break the silence that persisted among the girls- I had no reason to jeopardize my new job so soon. With a light huff, I pressed myself to one of the perplexing boxes, starting to hoist the haul onto an unfilled cart.

“If there is anything else I can do…” I said, tails twitching with apprehension, “…then please, let me know. I should not want to disappoint on my first errands…”

“You shall be told.” Was the only reply that came.

Silence, pervaded the warehouse once more. One the sound of steps and boxes could be heard now. The world outside was muted compared to this nightmarish place.

It was a hard, sinking feeling…knowing this would be as a second home for me as I worked to pay off my loan…

My eyes fell to the box- there was nothing for me but my work, it seemed. No companionship, even among the rabble beneath Mistress Julnii’s grip. Not even Siranae or Kalae could reach me here.

This unnerving silence and hard labor would have to simply be…adapted to.

The white box was sturdy but heavy in my grasp. The insides of the box rattled, for the table would have to be assembled upon arrival. The tendons in my arms ached from even this first effort. I had set a table countless times, but never constructed one. Still, I pressed the box into one corner of the cart with a thump, before spinning around to take another.

The cart just by Shala was the same build – wagon-like with an open top and four short walls to hold things within. The wall nearest me had a hinged door to let me hoist the boxes up to be placed within.

Shala was placing the boxes flat onto her cart, neatly packed two-by-two with no gaps. Very much presentable.

I kept my gaze fixed on Shala at every turn, catching glimpses of whatever techniques she might have employed to reduce the strain… but there was no cheat or trick. She had endured the physical and mental strain of this work- she simply carried through it. I could only mimic that routine strength, scurrying back and forth between the cargo and its vehicle.

Over, and over-

Packing away, as the malaise of my job settled deep into the corner of my mind.

“Lift at your knees, not your back…” I heard Shala’s voice, though did not see her face as she had her back to me. “It will hurt less…”

My arms, so unused to labor of any kind, if not in the human life then certainly in this underdeveloped body, wobbled with strain to place to boxes into their proper place. The boxes were thin enough to stack up to five high, making for 20 boxes in all arranged in a neat and tightly packed arrangement. Lifting the boxes up high enough to get five to a stack proved…troublesome.

But, the other girls, thankfully, did not stare. No, they were all too busy with tasks of their own to watch me in judgement. So, perhaps, that little bit of solitude was the one comfort.

At last, the boxes were stacked. My arms already stung…

…but the suffering was only beginning.

For as I watched Shala finish securing her boxes, I then watched as she stepped to the front of the carriage, positioning herself between two wood poles connected by a bar wrapped in white, cushioned cloth…

…and she began to push the bar, pulling the cart behind her. She looked back at me briefly and only waved for me to follow.

It was one thing to find the right muscles for this work, and be seen fumbling with the rote tasks that these girls knew by heart…

…But it was another thing- another world entirely- to have us take to the streets, delicate women turned to pack mules for the prying eyes of the masses to witness.

Was this some test by Mistress Julnii, to wear through my independence and confidence?

No. Of course it wasn’t. Julnii would not waste her precious work hours on some extended denigration… not when the nature of her business served that purpose well enough on its own. There was a glint of terror in my expression, though I stifled it as quickly as it came.

With arms quivering and steps labored, I brought myself to the cushioned bar, and… pushed. I pressed my entire body forward, nullifying the embarrassment of my new existence, as I dragged the damned cart at my heels toward Shala’s path.

“Keep straight as you walk…Poke’mon will complain to Mistress Julnii if you slouch while pulling.” Shala’s voice came again. Her tone was flat, as though her words spilled out on their own with no thought behind them. Again, she did not even look at me.

From what I could see, Shala had her nose turned up, eyelids lowered, as though she were still a dignified woman even as she pulled the cart. It was, of course, a show. The laborer had to dress themselves up in posture as much as they did with clothes and jewelry.

Just ahead, two girls stepped forward to unlatch the warehouse doors, sliding them open. The massive door creaked and squealed with rusty hinges in a terrific noise that shuddered the stone I walked on. Shala seemed to pay it no mind, only continuing ahead into the blinding afternoon light.

Cold wind spilled into the warehouse, chilling me, the roar of the city filling my ears all at once, as though I were being violently expelled from the secret world within the warehouse.

The cart was heavy, 20 boxes worth of weight resisting me. The wheels creaked and squeaked in protest but held strong.

Following Shala, I found myself entering an alley between two buildings, in a small loading area, with a way onto the street just to the right. The buildings around us cast deep shadows, like I were a skulking rat scurrying in the dirtiest parts of the clean city, now about to enter to world meant for everyone else.

Shala entered the narrow alley, stopping just before entering the street. I saw her take an object attached to the cart, a hand-bell, watching as she rung it continuously to signal her entry into the street. She slowly made her way out, ringing her bell in hand as the crowd briefly paused for us…

…and we I stepped into the sun-bleached world of the Market District, I saw the crowd did not bother to hide their annoyance at being stopped by us.

All at once- a practical stowaway of a laborer became a sight for all that loitered in the heart of the gilded city. I had not been seen, let alone watched, in such volume since a gala from years past… never had I felt the weight of those stares so harshly. Their gawking and glaring was a burden much heavier than the wretched boxes could ever be.

A little wretch on the street, decorated with a veneer of nobility that would not last even an ounce of scrutiny. If nothing else, Mistress Julnii had slotted me into a role more fitting than not.

Against the weight of those heartless crowds, the frigid air, and the searing burden of my cart… I simply strode on.

Nose upturned.

Eyelids lowered.

Back upright, despite the boxes straining what feeble muscles I had there.

I trembled, just beneath the fur. My eyes hazed from the gripping disgust of being witnessed this way- being treated this way.

But I did not yowl for mercy, nor even slow my pace.

A nobildonna knew better than to act out. No matter what cruelty she was made to endure.

Ahead, Shala turned down the road. The wheels clacked and bumped on the smooth stone as the crowd watched, waiting for us to simply be out of the way.

And at last we were, a grunt from a Poke’mon behind me as the crowd continued on unabated. There was no time to delay nor linger. Even as my legs and arms burned from the work I had to keep pace behind Shala lest I be left behind and get in the way of the Poke’mon.

And someone would complain.

And it would all be over.

I could not falter. I was not allowed a break or a rest in the trudge that seemed an eternity. An eternity of roads and statues and blinding white fountains and roaring crowds and biting chill. Of nobles standing at their balconies and villa back gardens, trying to ignore me. Of every prying eye from noble and commoner seeing me, checking me and watching my every twitch and motion and facial expression as I stood as a representative of Mistress Julnii’s business.

No longer myself. Just a prop of Mistress Julnii’s.

A turn came. Shala rang her bell. Then another. Another ring of the bell.

The buildings that surrounded became more gaudy. More golden. More statues and carved patterns decorated. Scaffolds and half-finished paint jobs. Sculptures covered by tarps and trimmings not yet applied to make an already opulent district even more disgustingly opulent.

Workers and laborers, no clothes or possessions to them but the tools in hand and the sweat on their brow, painting and constructing and lifting. And all of them met with the same scornful looks that were given to me by the finely dressed Poke’mon here.

And I knew all of our muscles burned together. And still my nose held high. For someone would complain if it was not.

Not a step went out of turn. Not a paw nor tail nor clacking cart wheel lingered in the path of those Arcean elites. My body quaked just beneath the surface, but not even a bead of sweat cracked the stillness on my brow.

The halation of shimmering wealth nearly burnt my eyes, when the sunlight shone on its gluttonous sheen just so. The district, and then the castle beyond it- they were too much to bear witness to, in more sense than one. And still, my weary legs trudged after Shala’s stalwart guidance- for I could reach something much closer to my salvation here.

At last, a bright glare assaulted my vision.

The grand golden dome of the castle I saw long ago was in view. Just across the bridge, sporting millions of tiny details, two wide towers, and a portcullis so large I could see it even from here.

Castle Arceali stood proudly before me. A goal I could walk to yet was still so far.

My eyes caught sight of guards. Poke’mon in shining armor, colored in white and sky blue, standing at every corner in groups of two in this area. No doubt one of these guards had chased off Siranae and I that night so long ago.

But now that I came with a cart, now that I was useful, they did not bat at eye at me.

There, just to my left, the small and, compared to the castle, modest building could be seen. With an entryway sporting a golden ring with carved spiral patterns, red roof, and ebony marble pathway leading to the front, the marble stone sign at the front confirmed it:

GUILD OF ARCELIAZE OF THE 0TH TURN

Shala turned again, bringing her cart to the side of the building, out of the way from the main path, in the shadows.

In the shadows where we belonged.

My eyes locked onto that humble building, even as its sign left my view, and the draping shadows rendered it unidentifiable from any other over-built structure in Arceliaze. I stared on, terrified that it might blink out of existence were I to not pay it my utmost attention.

I stopped just a hair early, before my body and my cart could collide into the rear-end of Shala’s haul. My attention snapped onto the woman.

“…thank you, for your help,” I muttered. “What shall we do from here…?”

“Unload.” The Lizard girl spoke quickly and quietly, using as few words as she could, as though her every breath used to speak was a sin. “Take boxes to the ball room…one at a time.”

Twenty boxes, one at a time.

Shala had already ducked under her pull bar and unlatched the side door, taking a white box in her arms. I could see from the way she pursed her lips: it was no easier on her. She had only been here longer, learned the rules.

“I will prop the door open but we must mind not to let a draft in too long.” Her voice came again, words so fast I might’ve missed a few if I weren’t paying attention.

At once, the lizard girl took the box in both hands, held at the sides like it were a platter and gift, her face the same noble stoicism as she’d maintained on the cart ride over. Without a word, she began to move toward the light, to the front of the Guild Building.

I kept my breaths shallow, for fear that even the faint signs of my existence would draw more ire. I moved in turn with the lizard woman, freeing myself from one burden to embrace another, as I reached for the first of many boxes.

“Thank you.”

Nothing else to say— I trusted that she would guide me. My aching arms pried the first box from its space, trembling harshly from the renewed strain… and I followed Shala. I would catch my breath at some other point.

I had more than just work to see to.

Already, my eyes wandered the shaded edge of the courtyard… seeking something, anything that would bridge the gap between this world and my own.

Where did an Arceali Guild member begin their work…?

Following behind Shala, the woman stepped around, approaching the front door. This was doubtlessly where guild members entered. While the entry door was a simple wood door it was decorated with a massive golden, circular arch framing it and a pair of fluttering red curtains further adding to its grandeur.

Shala stopped, turning her body to let her tail hook around the wood door handle, pulling it strong and quick such that the flame on her tail tip did not so much as singe the wood. She shifted a nearby ebony block to hold the door open and continued on inside.

Warm air was exhaled on me. A cherry wood scent filled my nostrils like nothing else I’d smelled in all of Arceliaze. Even from here the inside of the Arceali Guild seemed to resonate out.

And as I crossed the threshold and my feet touched a plush carpet, I saw it…

…my goal.

Patterned tile floor, hard and warmed. Spiral and floral patterns carved into the wall. Emblems and curtains hanging off the wall. A circle and cross sigil decorated with the wings of angels, just below a mural painting of ‘paradise’, the same I’d seen at the church, decorated the far end of a long entry way.

It was beautiful. Colorful and golden.

I had seen the ornate, both here and in Milan… I had lived within it.

And yet, this guild was so… alien to me. Had the few days I’d spent as a wretch already taken their toll? The warm scent of the wooden door was a relief as much as a reminder of my separation from this place…

…and yet, here I stood. With an ounce of beautifying and a proper ruse, I could pass for one of the nobles that ‘belonged’ here. I could not achieve that, not yet- but it was closer than I had ever felt in my time within Arcea.

But alas, I was not a noble in the eyes of Arcea. This Guild was their gathering spot.

And Shala…simply kept walking forward.

I carried on. Face forward, arms clutching the box- eyes darting wildly, searching for yet more of the Arceali Guild hidden just around its own corners. There was more than just a decorated hallway- there was work that began here.

The air was both still and silent as it was electrifying. The hall carried its imposing weight, lorded over me with it, crashing upon me with every tap of my paws to the cold tile.

There at the end of the hall, underneath the grand display I could see what looked to be a bulletin board sat betwixt two doorways. The bulletin board was a magnificent display of sculpting, the board itself a pure white with paper affixed to it in neat rows. Each paper was sealed and stamped and on very expensive ivory sheets.

Was this it…?

Shala was already turning toward the rightmost doorway, even before reaching the end of the hall. But as she moved, and as I locked my eyes to the bulletin board I could hear the lizard’s breath catch.

Craning my neck ever so slightly to see past her I saw three figures emerge. Three figures that seemed to strike terror in Shala’s heart.

Clean and sparkling, youthful and beautiful, cantering out of the leftmost door like a trio of show animals proudly showing themselves off to the world. I watched as the three of them approached the bulletin board, staring at it with rapt interest and chattering amongst themselves.

These three…I recognized them. From Siranae’s descriptions.

As I passed, following Shala to the rightmost door, their names came to me.

QAVUL – QUILAVA. ADORNED WITH RED SCARF. FIERCE EXPRESSION.

CAYLII – VULPIX. WHITE COAT AND CURLY HAIR.

SIFFIA – LILLIGANT, BASIC FEATURES, CROWN ATOP HER FLOWERED HEAD.

I stared on at the trio of… guild members. Nobles, off to what they could most charitably call ‘work’.

My body stiffened, but my lungs did not seize as Shala’s did. Perhaps the primal fear of a more dominant animal had not been beaten into me, as it had with the lizard and her boss- perhaps I simply could not see them as any more special than any other Poke’mon on the streets.

Were it not for Siranae’s education, they would be naught but another set of faces in Arcea, for me to avert my gaze from.

And yet, I stared.

Were they as discontented with each other as Siranae’s rumors told? If nothing else, they could function and seek their daily tasks. I waited, body residing on a hairpin trigger to resume my work should Shala motion for it… but I studied. How did they take these jobs, and… how easily could anyone else do it, from this position?

One half second.

The chattering guild members spoke in hushed tones, standing before the bulletin board. Like so many nobles, the three of them stood in poses.

The Quilava kept his arms crossed, head tucked down. Eyebrow twitching, he was straining to keep that facial expression.

The Liligant kept her hands to the front. Projecting grace with hips thrust forward. Head cocked slightly to the side.

The Vulpix kept both hind legs and front legs together. Head up and mouth slightly agape. Not lazily done, no, she did not drool nor did any edge of her mouth twitch. No, her mouth was posed as the rest of her body.

Two half seconds.

The Vulpix’s mouth curled into a smile.

“What would you both like to do~? I want a fun adventure!” The Vulpix spoke. Voice young and high pitched. A bubbly lift to her words.

“Oh…I do not wish to decide for you, Caylii.” The Lilligant said. Her voice was measured, not meek. “Merely having an adventure with you and Qavul is enough for me.”

“Only choose quickly. I grow tired of staring at jobs all day.” The Quilava said at once.

Four half seconds.

“Well…! Well well well!!” The Vulpix tapped a forepaw onto the tile then pointed it to a flyer. “Monsters on Mist Island…wah!! Too scary! And I don’t think we’d want the one with a Mispelling. Hehe! That’s so silly.”

Six half seconds.

“Oh! Why not this one! A nice stroll to that cute little village out in tall woods!”

Eight half seconds.

Something slapped my arm.

Shala’s tail.

The Lizard woman had set her box down and was pretending to tend to another box. Just behind, Shala’s voice came, silent and small, that only I might here it.

I glanced behind myself.

Shala’s expression was flat…but her eyes were pleading.

“You stare. Do not look at them. Do not speak to them.” Shala’s voice came as a whisper. “She will know if you do…she always learns.”

All at once, my mind collapsed back into its place- I looked to Shala with almost a scowl, some reflexive anger from being struck out of my own thoughts. After another half second, it settled.

“…I understand. I do not mean to speak with them.” My voice muttered back to her, disgruntled… but knowing not to press my burden onto her. The woman endured enough without me endangering her role.

I gripped the box in my midst tighter, feeling its weight bear me down once again, while I leaned to place it.

“I apologize…”

Even as the ache of my new work took hold of me again… there was some amazement that hung over me.

Those nobles… they were overly dignified, of course. Standing as though actors on a stage, performing for none but their own egos.

But it was not just that. They were… aimless. Childish, perhaps silly. They did not have a mantis-mistress looming over their shoulders, snapping them onto a line of work and threatening them to their posts. They saw only the joys and bothers of errands to tend to. I could almost feel anger at it, in light of my own travails, but…

Siranae would fit into their niche so well, were she only given the time of day.

I let that frustration subside, even as my eyes drifted to their finely-crafted bulletin board more and more.

The three guild members merrily discussed with one another about which job to take as I took my leave. Shala gracefully picked her table back up, stepping towards the rightmost door. There, a set of spiral stairs went downward. The descent was rather cramped and gave an air of exclusivity.

We passed brick and stone, candles flickering gently in the wall of this spiral descent. My body shook just from stabilizing itself while carrying the box down those stairs- and it shook again at the thought of how much I’d be repeating that process.

But at last, I saw a bright, shimmering golden light at the bottom.

Shala hit the black and white tile first, and as I left the final step I was able to see the oft-talked about Arceali Guild ballroom in all its glory.

The ballroom was dazzling, sporting an almost cathedral-like appearance with a stain-glass window at the end. Sunlight filtered through, giving a colorful, glimmering shine to all the gold trims and spiral-painted metal poles. The floor was in large black and white tiles, so clean they could be mistaken for mirrors as their sheen made a perfect double of the room in their reflections.

Candles sat within insets in the walls, flickering to give a magical atmosphere, lighting up the flowers placed near the ceiling.

The ghost of a party was clearly in the works in this long and wide ballroom. Many tables had been set in two even rows with a third being worked on. A few workers could be seen here, with a stack of boxes off to the side.

Shala wasted no time, walking over to settle her box by the pile, stepping aside to wait for me.

I marveled at the glimmering space we had entered- this utterly polished, pristine haven for the socialites to no doubt indulge themselves further.

This… was where Prista’s banquet would be held. The proving grounds of myself and Siranae, in just a month’s time. But, for now, it was the spotless playroom of well-to-do nobles, and their children, who still treated their work as a hobby.

And there was nothing I could do to change it, but hold my tongue and wait.

I placed my box with Shala’s, taking a moment to let my joints relax, lest I damage myself beyond repair.

“Quite an exercise…” I glanced to the woman, locking eyes with her.

There was much, much more I could say, whether it be the cruel injustice of ladies burning themselves to the wick as we were, or the pain it had birthed, now searing through my every limb. But… as much as I could have spat out to her, scrounging for her sympathy, none of it was worth uttering. Not at the risk that my words would find their way to Mistress Julnii.

I stood up, back roaring and fur quivering, waiting for my next command. At least here, I could let my skin crawl without as much fear that someone would scowl upon me for it.

“Mistress Julnii does not take kindly to complaints…or idle chatter.” Shala said, looking to all the world a dead woman in glimmering jewelry.

The lizard woman stepped towards me, looking towards the boxes sat by the wall while two other girls came to unbox the tables.

“180 invitations were sent. 3 to a table. We won’t have time to help unbox.” Shala said, turning back to me. “We will head back to the warehouse straight away to fetch chairs and silverware, then static decor. The faux flower arrangements arrive next week.”

She did not ask if I understood. For I simply must have.

Without missing a beat, the lizard woman walked towards the stairs, expecting me to follow. One table had been brought, now for the other nineteen…

To think it was still only late afternoon.

Back toward the spiral staircase. The descent had been easier than the ascent. How I now had to trudge up the stairs, though it wasn’t anything I was not used to after my time trudging up and down the steep slopes of the Arceali Valley.

Even so, as Shala and I climbed the stairs, I could hear voices above.

“Oh but I wish to see the decorations! I should think it will be a most wonderful party, Qavul!”

“They have only just started.”

“Oh, Qavul, I only ask for some fun, not for so much argumentativeness…!!”

I felt my stomach churn from their banter- how carelessly the Arceali Guild’s select few handle their daily tasks, how they loitered in their gilded den while the city’s woes no doubt grew. Pitiful.

…still, perhaps there was some fortune to their chatter. If nothing else, I could know when I would be free of their presence, but…

I stayed listening to the guild member’s ramblings, posture straightened, façade of poise restored, while I ascended to the main hall just behind Shala. My eyes dared not wander their way, but I would do well to make use of these stooges, if possible.

The light of the entry hall greeted Shala and I. The woman had likewise also taken to a graceful pose, hands at her front and chin up, eyes forward. No distractions as she sought to make her way to the front.

Then, a voice cut through the air.

“Oh! Qavul, see! There’s some of the help now!”

Shala’s shoulders squared. I could see her body tense.

“Caylii.” Came the Quilava’s voice, hissing beratingly. “Don’t talk to the workers.”

Don’t look at them.

“Whyever not??”

“It’s-?!” Qavul’s voice hitched. “-Not the proper thing, Caylii, you know that.”

Don’t speak to them.

“You shouldn’t talk that nonsense to me, Qavul.” Caylii’s reply came. “Hello, workers!! We’ll go down to see the party!”

“I do not think you need to announce such.” Siffia’s voice was next.

Shala only kept walking forward. Her gait had become slightly uneven.

I knew better than to openly disobey Shala. I knew better than to openly defy Mistress Julnii’s tyranny. I’d known not to be flagrantly disobedient for years.

Of course… a lady knows when to disobey silently, too.

My steps followed Shala, no quivering, not even a whisper. But my pace quickened, despite the flare of pain in my legs.

I passed Shala and took the lead all at once.

I scuttled out from the guild hall, feeling the chill of the untamed world again- and routed myself to our stowed boxes. I’d get to those guild members and that inquisitive Caylii, before they had a chance of slipping away to the day’s work.

Shala relaxed more and more as the threshold approached, her shoulders returning to their neutral position as the sun kissed our faces once more.

The noble children were…eerily silent as we departed.

Shala shared the silence. She spoke not a word as she rounded the corner behind me. She let me lead as I took another box, the weight no better the second time, my limbs burning.

As I hoisted a box in my arms I noticed how…quiet this part of Arceliaze is.

Only the guards stood silently. Nobody else seemed to cross this area.

The crowd seemed a distant memory.

Shala lagged, struggling to separate two boxes in her cart. She glanced up at me, waving for me to go on. Better to finish promptly than to try and help.

My stoic snout nodded to her, taking hold of one of my own boxes as though the weight didn’t rip at my own stamina. I could carry, and I could walk- that was enough.

I slogged back into the guild hall, sweat beads slipping between my fur, as I made my way to the staircase again.

The entry hall…the noble children were not in sight, which was no small relief on my part.

The chill from outside was billowing into the warmth of the guild. The tiles became colder and colder with every passing moment I did not make haste.

…my eyes wandered to the board. A carved platter, delivering the finest morsels of work that someone could pluck from Arcea’s bottomless barrel of woes. Nobody stood by. Even from here I could see three jobs left and forgotten. My keen eye noticed…their edges frayed. There was no telling how long they’d been left to rot on the board, forever uncompleted.

Misspelling. They wouldn’t even touch the one misspelled.

But, no, now was not the time.

I wrenched my eyes away from the board- not yet. Not when Shala could scurry back at my rear, and catch me in the act. But when she was lugging that burden down the stairs, when I’d already completed the second haul…

Just a moment longer.

I had to keep my gait even, my body could not bounce. My face had to remain neutral as I descend the steps, box in hand.

I hurried down the staircase, as safely as one could when carrying the weight of a gaudy table, hoping to still have those guild goons busy with the bare-bones decor…

In no time I was back in the Ball Room. Slowly now I had settled into a routine. Into the Guild, drop off a table, out of the guild. That’s all that I needed to do.

I found the spot where I’d deposited the last table, there by the wall. Swiftly, I walked, not making a sound, just as the other girls who tirelessly opened the boxes to assemble the tables. Metal clinked into place, slides creaked, wood groaned, tablecloths fluttered. One of the girls had what looked to be a measuring stick to perfectly separate the tables from one another.

As I set the box down, I looked about and took a moment, fathoming how…neat and precise it all was, and the sheer amount of work these women put in to simply make it so…

Chest out. Nose up. Maintain the poise. Do not falter. Even as my arms screamed and legs burned, it was important that I did not lose my poise. I did not hear Shala behind me.

Then…when I turned to return to the stairs.

“You.”

A face blocked me.

A white furred face.

Two crystal-like eyes stared into me.

Locks of ivory hair bounced. Curled tails remained fixed and frozen behind.

A badge shimmered on her chest.

“I spoke to you.” The Vulpix said slowly, standing directly in my way. Her voice carried its squeakiness, carrying a hint of curiosity. “Why did you not say anything? Is something the matter?”

I stopped with a jolt, looking into those gleaming eyes- pools of ignorant brightness that I’d been forbade from making contact with. She looked more like a housepet than any form of nobility… but, such was the way of Arceliaze.

Don’t speak until spoken to. That was as fair as a lady could carry her silence… I was given no choice but to risk my work in its entirety, and respond.

“I apologize… I did not realize you meant to speak with me. My heart takes to my work quite quickly.” I uttered my words as light as a feather, a paw raised to my chest- some sign of apologetic anxiety, as any noble would want to see from a disobedient inferior. My quivering was kept to a minimum.

“You are… Caylii, are you not? Of the Arceali Guild?” My paw dipped down toward her badge, and I forced a smile upon my weary face. “A friend of mine has spoken of your kindness and refined grace… I am honored to see it for myself, and I did not mean to keep you held up. What with the guild’s missions…”

I wondered if there anything I could glean from the Vulpix, while not allowing Shala to stumble upon me. I did not even allow my eyes to dart to the stairway again. At the least, if she had taken a task for herself- I would be wise not to trounce upon it and ruin my imminent business.

“Of course I am Caylii.” The Vulpix, Caylii, said, tilting her head. “And I may speak to whomever I want. I was worried something was wrong when a worker did not respond to me.”

Her head straightened. There was a hint of…something unexplainable deep in her eyes.

“Honored? Refined Grace…? It made me upset, not even being acknowledged when I spoke.” Caylii said. “It made me sad. I like being everyone’s friend, you understand, and thusly I like everyone liking me.”

Her paws were close together. Her body was rigid.

“Worker, you reek of lies. They leak out of your shining life-soul. They smell terrible and give me a hurt feeling in my stomach.”

There was a pause.

It was as though the world had frozen. My breath rolled over my lip as steam. The air was frigid.

“Do you think I erred?” Caylii continued. “Do you think I’ve hurt you? Did you perceive wrongdoing on my part…?”

A chill went up my spine.

“Do you hate me?”

A silence cut the cold air.

What… was this girl? It… it was not simply my own apprehension- the very space around her shot shivers through my fur. There was no beauty or grace to her, even if her cutesy curls and chirping voice tried to deny it.

What once seared within me now ached in a chill. Even at my most polite, she felt lies from- from some life-soul, yet another accursed way a Poke’mon could pry into one’s psyche-

I yearned to wait, and to parse her enigmatic terror to free myself… and yet, my mind stalled. I could not risk her sensing something worse from outright deception.

“I apologize…” I said, rasping through timid lips. Some effort kept my tails from quaking. “You’ve done nothing wrong, ma’am… I- I would be the one who erred, in not acknowledging you before…”

All at once, my heart had reversed. I had trapped myself, and Shala’s intrusion would be freeing, if only she could find me in this icy grip.

“I do not wish to lie, or to make you ache… I apologize, terribly so…”

The Vulpix’s chilling eyes burrowed into me horribly, flickering dully against the candles in the ball room. Another huff of steam from my lungs.

“…it is rude to apologize when you do not mean it.” Caylii said, her cutesy voice warm and piercing. “Why does everyone lie to me…it isn’t fair, how much you and everyone keeps hurting me.”

She did not blink. My eyes stung.

Where was Shala?

“I suppose I should just retire to my room. Cry the night away that even workers cannot bear to look at or acknowledge me then lie to my face, just like the rest. If that is what you always wanted for a horrid wretch like me…”

A sound cut the air.

An ungraceful clack of claws to tile.

Caylii’s eyes shifted. The rest of her body remained fixed.

There, at the stairs, was Shala, table in hand. Nose upturned. She was flopping her feet to intentionally intensify the sound of her own footsteps.

“Cayliiiii~!” A voice called.

“Leader, aren’t we going to go?”

The Vulpix’s eyes shifted again, to the other side.

Near the back of the Ball Room were the Lilligant, Siffia, and the Quilava, Qavul.

A smile crept upon Caylii’s face. Small, imperceptible, one that someone would hide when alone. For she was alone, for I was nothing to the Vulpix.

Her frown vanished at once, her eyes squinting and wetting with tears. Caylii sniffed, lifting a paw to her cheek, as though soothing herself as she turned to face the other two nobles.

“Aw, now, Caylii, don’t let it get you down…” Siffia cooed as the Vulpix flicked her tails at you, retreating back to the Lilligant and the Quilava. “Workers have their job to do, that’s their place, like we have ours, right…?”

“I suppose…” Caylii sniffed pathetically, cantering up to them and regrouping.

As the three nobles chattered, Shala’s hand gripped my shoulder, breaking me from the spell. The orange lizard woman looked at me with a mix of disapproval and sympathy…and only held a claw to her mouth, a silent shushing.

Workers had their job. Workers had their place.

I flinched, feeling Shala’s nails press against my fur- as though sensation had only then returned to me. But every ounce of that… that beast and her horror- every fraction of it had settled into me.

My head ached. My legs were loose enough to let me faint, yet my chest churned and pulsed with something piercing- something so volatile and disgusted that I could nearly spew it from lips…

None of it came. I released a feeble whimper to Shala, the only piece of a response I felt safe to give. I was not rescued from any danger- I still stood there, in the midst of the wretched guild. She had only spared me the worst of the pain.

This… was what Mistress Julnii did to her workers, was it not? The vicious, terrifying presence… the grip upon one’s soul, squeezing into their flame, until only the faintest embers remained. Killing all that would oppose the clients, and her.

I felt my fire, wavering, thrashing. It shivered in that frigid air… and yet, it lashed at my chest from the inside.

I started to move- started to approach the stairs. The next box… the next task.

The board.

The fire hissed and flared, staying alive within me. No matter how silently it wavered, no matter the grip these heathens smothered it with- it raged on. Waiting.

That was the last I saw of the three noble children that day. Off to their fun adventure, a paltry errand to my labor that burned soul and body. The aches only intensified as the time dragged on.

Down the stairs.

Up the stairs.

Drop a box.

Take a box.

18 boxes became 15 became 12 became 9 became 5 became 3 became 1.

One at a time.

Still did that fire rage on. Empowered and determined more than ever.

Even as I dragged the cart back through the streets. Endured the stares of those that towered over me. Felt my position deeply as a penniless worker to be scorned at best and abused at worst.

The fire kept when I returned to the warehouse to find Mistress Julnii coldly criticizing her workers.

The fire kept when I loaded the chairs. The silverware. Delivered them. Brought them down one at a time, both working tirelessly and putting on a performance all the while.

Dancing. Dancing for the nobles. Entertaining and amusing the nobles with my poise and gait and all my efforts to not offend.

The fire kept every moment I passed that board and watched it from afar.

Three little pieces of paper still upon it. Ignored and forgotten. Work left behind. Nobles had no need for it. They could leave the world to rot from their ivory towers, these sordid monsters, these blasted creatures who played at grace but did not know it.

The fire kept as my legs felt like melting. Pressured agony, and all the while maintaining grace and poise for eyes that hated me.

But even then, the heat from that fire… waned.

The words on the tip of my tongue fizzled out, replaced with yet more silence, with the few yelps I felt safe to utter whenever the strain grew too great.

It was cold. The haunting chill of Caylii, of Julnii, of the absent Conduit and her Arceliaze- it persisted. My steps were no longer slowed from the soreness and dismay… they simply trudged through the storm of Arcea’s frigid heart.

My body grew numb. As the snow dulled one’s senses, so too did the wretched weight of my performance empty out all that I could feel.

I was… cold.

Another round.

Another mindless, drudging trip through the guild hall.

I could not discern whether I had worked a week in a single day,

or if the first hour had even passed.

Nothing.

And yet… my eyes wandered. Those three slips of paper hung there-

Minute after minute, awaiting me in my torment. My stiff posture was too strong to break of my own accord, and my steps carried on.

The pitiful fire crackled inside me.

There was work to be done. And it still hung there, clipped to the board of empty promises. Waiting for me.

So it went.

The sun lowered. Further and further did it lower. The afternoon slowly turning to evening as the trudging agony of delivery and hauling continued, unabated,

without pause,

without break.

I felt numb.

I felt dead.

And here at the cusp of nighttime I returned to the Warehouse for one last load.

It was now the final delivery. Only a few pots and crockery for the kitchen at the Arceali Guild.

The cart had been filled before my arrival as I wheeled my cart back into the Warehouse. Shala had gone ahead and her cart was already at rest.

Stars were beginning to twinkle in the orange sky.

The noise of the crowd was silencing outside.

As I rested my cart I saw Shala at the far end of the warehouse, with another of the girls. She could only spare looking back at me briefly and pointing to the filled cart, waving for me to take it at once.

By myself.

I met her gaze- I had learned well enough in this endless day not to contest any burden placed upon me, no matter how much it piled atop the day’s agony.

I freed myself from one cart to take up another- the weight of an empty cart was indistinguishable from the weight of a full one. Both were signs of my place.

With gritted teeth, I yanked myself forward, dragging the packed cart into the twinkling starlight. Icy gusts blew over my cheek, while I treaded the familiar, hollow streets of Arceliaze. I could walk this path blindfolded if need be- and I was sure Mistress Julnii would find some way to make it happen, eventually.

Through the shaded streets. Past each turn, bells still ringing in my ears. And… through shining gates, golden sheen still blaring into my retinas- as I approached the guild hall.

There was work to be done.

As I rounded that final corner of the route I had now learned by heart, that guild came into view.

Darkened windows. Silence within. The chimney puffed smoke no longer. The guards looked ready to doze off.

Even now, I saw a few of the girls that had been preparing the ball exiting the guild, their work concluding as I made my final delivery.

The guild was empty.

None would be in but I.

Now was the time.

The cart was placed there, in the shadows by the guild, crunching in a new layer of frost that had built in the short time between departing and arriving once more.

The ice nipped at my fur. A shiver chilled my bones. My arms glistened.

First box of crockery in hand. Nose up. Maintain the poise for now.

Just a few more steps.

The door to the guild, seated in the midst of that gaudy arrangement of curtains and golden circular arch, creaked open. The red carpet led straight from the door to my destination: the bulletin board in the back.

The entry hall was dark. The candles had dimmed. No noise permeated the space but the thrum of my heartbeat as I crept forward, letting the door close to seal me off from prying eyes.

I had to be quick. There was no telling how much time I would get, if any.

Quick pace, quick steps, thundering down the carpet. For myself. For Piera.

For Siranae.

At last, without guild members blocking it, without others to see…

I stood in the Arceali Guild hall, standing before the Job Bulletin board…

Three yellowed and forgotten pieces of paper. Edges frayed. Multiple holes decorated the words where other jobs had been pinned over them, making some of them harder to read. But there they were…three jobs the guild was not doing.

Three jobs…of which the Guild would not miss one:

MONSTERS ON MIST ISLAND

DEBT DODGER

GAURD URJENLEE NEED-ED

I could make out writing underneath each…the question was, which one to take?

I stared over the three pieces of untouched work. My eyes were drawn to that misspelled mission, that Caylii had so generously pointed out for me… although, she had little need to do so. It was quite drastically unfit for any important publication…

It did not matter. If it was work that would not draw suspicion, it was suitable for me.

I reached over to hold the page gently, studying its details- and seeing if there was any proof of authenticity needed. If this was simply a listing, I could make do with a copy… but, if one of these guild members was meant to present the document itself, I would be forced to do more than memorize.

The paper was thick and very official looking. The material was clearly expensive, with a gold-painted trim and all. But the edges were curled. It’d clearly been here a long time.

The date on the document was marked for ‘Z22`…around 38 days ago today.

GAURD URJENLEE NEED-ED

WE NEED5 A ~~GARD~~ ~~URD~~ GUARDD TA HELP WIF GUARDIN-ING AN ART ~~EZIB~~ ~~ECKZHIB~~ ~~EKSZIBBIT~~ GALLERY.

WULD ONLY BE FOR 1 DAY. THE SHOW IS ON HOLD UNT1L JOB IS TAKEN. KANT ASK GUARDZ.

LOTSA COIN INNIT FORYE.

EN-KWIRE ABOOT ~★★𝑀𝓈.𝒵𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓏𝒶𝓃𝒾★★~ AT THA TOWN OV LAESI.

FROM UHHHHH I FINK THE DESK OV LETS SAY….CONVEYSHUN SHARA YEAH

FANKS

MONI U’D GIT:

~ 6,500 P ~

This was… critically distressing. Perhaps this was one of those Illaminian Poke’mon, with their other language- I could only hope so, and deny the possibility of an illiterate associate reaching out to the Arceali Guild.

I looked to the bag at my side, hoping to take notes- but the bank notes within were not suitable for writing down information, and I could not hope to pilfer a pen from anywhere. And, barring a necessity to present that paper for myself, I did not wish to make a difference on the board- not yet. A missing document on the day Caylii had made herself known to a guard would be a risky connection.

‘The art gallery in Laesi. Ms. Zerazani. Conveytion Shara. A payout of 6,500 P. They can’t ask the guards.’

That was all I could glean from the document- all that I would need. And… when the time called for it, I could remove it from the board, along with its brethren. But tonight, it would stay just where it belonged.

My arms ached, ready to shatter from the joints at my shoulders that held them so desperately. But I had more to carry- useless kitchenware for a party, odds and ends… and returning the cart. And lastly…

Lastly, tomorrow was the day my work began.

All I could do was stroll onward, knowing the bare minimum of what was yet to come.

My flame still flickering in the frigid night.

~ CHAPTER 9 ~

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