Two days.

  It had been two days since he’d left his home and received his Calling, but already it felt like a different world. Cass rolled out of bed, swapped his sleeping robe for his about-town clothes, and set his priorities for the day as he left on his way to breakfast.

  For the low-tiered and service workers, Sundays weren’t official duty days. That meant all he found upon arrival was roughage, soft fruits, and simple drinks set out in organized rows. He ate quickly, nodding at a few people he’d met in his short time with the Guild, had a single, sad thought, no porridge, then he was off to the open sky with a smile.

  Walking across the quiet, open grounds, Cass considered everything he’d experienced yesterday. Martin Martin had been thrilled to learn he was a QuestWright, that is, until he’d learned he was only Level 1. That told him something important: The Martin Metalworks didn’t need basic delivery quests. They needed a quest type that Cass hadn’t unlocked yet.

  The Commons, though? That was different. They didn’t need anything special, just quests in general. Experience. A better way forward. He made a mental note to return next week, check on Rina’s progress, and get a better idea of their needs. The more he knew about them, the better he could help.

  But that was all for next week’s Cass.

  Today, he wasn’t working with the Annex or studying the city. Today, he was going home.

  Seeing Jim lazily wave from his booth, he realized he’d reached the Entrance Hall before he knew it. “You’re a busy little bee.” He looked him up and down, “Wait…you’re not quitting, are you?”

  The thought had crossed my mind initially, Cass thought as he said aloud, “No. I’m just checking in on a few people who I haven’t seen since the ceremony.”

  “Ah,” He nodded sagely, “Family, then.”

  “Exactly.” He walked past the portly fellow and nearly skipped through lively downtown before he began to see the green and gold coloring that was home.

  Gary’s working right now, and he’ll be busy till sundown, but Dad should be home. Waving at a few people and stopping once to ask a GoldenCrown Officer about the location of his mother and sister, he got there with the sun still low in the sky.

  Their house was the standard shape and design of a mid-level Company officer. Two stories, a pinch of flair, and thick, defensible walls should they ever come under attack. The GoldenCrowns were considered paranoid by many in Liora. Its members and their families consistently followed a rigorous set of monthly drills. One for monsters, one for people.

  Turning the knob, Cass entered the quiet front room of his childhood home. As always, the scent of the place hit him first. It was a mix of dry air, wood polish, and fried eggs. The smell of his old life.

  By contrast, his Guildhall room smelled like nothing. As if it were sterilized every day by an unseen attendant.

  Hearing the unmistakable clatter of pots and pans downstairs, he quickly made his way over and found his father hard at work. He stood at a marble counter, sleeves rolled up, with a large bowl of dough balanced in the crook of an arm and flour dusting his body and apron.

  “Smells like cinnamon,” Cass said, as he stopped and leaned against the framed entryway. “You want some help?”

  “Hey kiddo!” His dad said with a broad smile. He dropped the bowl on the counter and rushed over to hug him, unintentionally spreading flour across Cass’s clothing. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. “Sorry about that. Hey, how’s the Guild treating you? I wanna hear all about it.”

  Cass brushed the most egregious stains off his clothing. “The Guild has been fairly nice, no real complaints from me. Although…”

  “Although…” His dad said, a smile freezing in place.

  “They have me doing an exercise class. I’m a QuestWright, that doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that should occupy my time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, it’s just weird that it’s scheduled in.”

  “Ah,” His father said with a nod, already moving back to his work, “It’s called Foundational Training, even in the GoldenCrowns.” He slapped the dough into a large pan with a bang. “I’m surprised you didn’t get a System quest for it.”

  That was news to him. “There’s quests for training like that?”

  “That’s right, kiddo,” A roller came out, evening out the dough in seconds when it would’ve taken Cass far longer for its size. “I was unaffiliated for years, preferring to work on my skills in your grandmother’s house, not that she minded. I had a knack for my Calling from the beginning. Most of us do.” Taking the pan, he flipped the dough into another one of the same size, then started again. “I didn’t start as a Chef, you know. Took more than a few years and even more burnt pastries than I care to admit. You’ve got to grow into it and unlock your path.”

  Cass shook his head, “You know, you could’ve told me all of this before.”

  “No, actually, I couldn’t.” Opening the oversized oven, he placed the tray in and shut it with a click. “System doesn’t like for us to talk about evolutions, quests, and all that with Uncalled. Your mother read a paper on it a long time ago. Said it messes with what Callings are given out. Now, there’s a blanket rule for everyone. No talking about titles, paths, evolutions, the whole thing. Even using abilities in town is banned now by order of the Council. Been that way going on fifteen years.’ Stepping back, he turned around and met Cass’s eyes. “But you’re not Uncalled anymore, so ask away.”

  Cass pulled up a worn stool, the same one he’d perched on through most of his childhood, then asked, “What was your original Calling?”

  His dad pulled up his own so they sat across from one another, “Baker, like your friend Gary. But that wasn’t enough for me, you know? I need more. So I worked hard and found a path that was more suited to me.”

  That fascinated Cass. He’d had no idea you could change your Calling like that. “How’d you do it?”

  “Slowly. The System tracks what you do, not what you say you’re going to do. Every time I woke up and received my daily quest, I pushed the envelope of what it allowed. Bit by bit, I experimented, and the System noticed. It rewards hard work.” He smiled faintly, “Then, I got a Quest Chain to upgrade it.”

  “A Quest Chain?” Cass asked, leaning forward without meaning to.

  “A real one. Your mother did this too,” His father confirmed. He stood up, grabbed a sharp-edged knife, and pulled out several tomatoes, slicing them with a speedy, methodical precision. “It didn’t say path unlock or anything like that. It started small. Refine this, prepare that. But I noticed they weren’t the same old quests I’d always gotten in the past. I didn’t even know I was qualifying until one morning, the option appeared. Chef.” He gave a glorious laugh, the kind he only ever heard his father belt out. “Then, I did it again, pushing harder. Experimenting more broadly. Though I will say the second chain was much more difficult.”

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  Cass had watched his father’s face the whole time. He hadn’t even noticed that a dozen tomatoes had been perfectly sliced in moments. His eyes narrowed as a thought occurred, “I thought you said you couldn’t use abilities in town?”

  “Hah! What do you think I did every time you left the room?” His dad said with a grin, “Don’t worry about it, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.” He squinted at Cass as if expecting him to tell, then smiled and brushed a few tomato seeds off his hands. “You’ll do good, kid. Just don’t expect shortcuts. The System’s not looking for magic; It’s looking for proof. Provide that, and everything’s cream cheese after.”

  With a quick step, he walked over, lifted the tray out of the oven, and then placed it on the counter. A perfectly crispy piece of flatbread sat there, waiting for the next step. “Your Calling is like this piece of bread right now. It’s simple, unadorned, basic. But with the right ingredients, it can be perfect. You just have to figure out what it takes to get those ingredients and what kind of dish you’re trying to make.”

  Cass stared at the bread as his father’s words sank in. It looked plain, ordinary. But in someone like his father’s hands, even flour and water could become something more.

  What kind of Calling do I want? If his father was right, and every Calling had a path to upgrading, how did he find his? Was it related to the people he helped or the types of quests he made?

  When he looked up, everything was clean and orderly again. Even the dashes of flour everywhere had been removed, including the ones on Cass’s clothes. In a long carrying tray sat his father’s patented savory-sweet flatbread, often delivered to the Company to mark a momentous occasion.

  “I’ve gotta take this over to HQ, a place you are no longer allowed, Kiddo.” He said the last part with a smile, softening the blow. Cass’s brow furrowed, prompting his dad to add, “You’re a part of the Guild. Can’t just wander into Company territory, even if your family’s inside ‘em.”

  Cass blinked. He hadn’t thought of that. He truly belonged somewhere else now.

  Stepping towards the stairs, his father gave him one final remark, “You have a Calling now. Can you believe it?”

  “Yes…Yes, I can.”

  After his father left, Cass didn’t linger long in the empty house. He knew his sister was out on a quest, probably for a long time, and given the ceremonial flatbread, something was happening at GoldenCrown HQ. Closing the door behind him felt metaphorical in numerous ways. He stared at it as the frame’s seal kicked in with a click, then intently turned his back on it. It was time to visit the one person who’d always made things simple.

  Gary.

  The Golden Crust was a small, well-loved bakery near the edge of Company grounds. It was nestled where Liora met Golden Crown territory; its mouth-watering smells and cheerful staff making it a favorite for both sides. That Gary had landed there, even as an apprentice, had been a big cause of celebration last year. Every Calling who entered the Golden Crust came out as a more than solid Baker when their time of service was done.

  He found his oldest friend on his lunch break, sitting in the sun at a small table for public use. Based on the lines under his eyes, he could tell Gary was tired.

  Since he hadn’t yet been seen, Cass decided to continue a little game they’d been playing with one another for years. Sneaking up on light steps, and just as a sandwich was about to enter Gary’s mouth, a hand darted out and touched his elbow.

  “Weenus!”

  Leaning back in surprise, Gary began to choke on his food. It took him a moment to find Cass, who was still standing behind him with a big grin on his face as he said, “That’s forty-three to twelve.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I thought we said no more Weenus games when we’re eating. I almost died!”

  “You did not almost die.”

  “I did. I almost died right there, Cass.” The big man pantomimed a tear dropping, “My poor mother would’ve never forgiven you.”

  “What? She likes me more than you.” Cass stuck out his tongue. “Anyways, what's on your docket for the rest of today? Hauling flour? Moving flour? Transporting flour?”

  “Nope,” He leaned down conspiratorily, whispering, so the people walking by couldn’t hear, “My quest changed.”

  “Whoa, look at this guy.” Cass chucked his shoulder, then paused. “Wait, changed how?”

  “Cass, you’re a QuestWright. How do you not know what that means?”

  He held up his hands, “Hey, I’ve officially only been a QuestWright and had a Calling for two days. Cut me some slack.”

  Gary grinned, “You’re too easy.” Leaning close again, he said, “My daily quest focuses on mixing flour and water now. I’m already at Mixing!”

  Cass had no clue, “Is that fast to get to that level?”

  “Yep!” He leaned back, “I’m already level five in a year. Plus, I already got a title!” He added, his face veritably glowing.

  What the hell is a title?

  Gary rolled his eyes at Cass’s confused expression. “When’s your Foundational training?”

  “Wait, how did you know about that?”

  “Everyone has to do it, man. They’ll explain a bunch, and it’s just a few weeks to get your feet on the ground.” He gave another big smile, “But can you believe it? Level five and a title!”

  “Yeah, man, that’s huge,” Cass said with a smile, but internally, he knew it wasn’t. Kara was probably only a year or two older than him, but from what he knew of tiers, she was already pushing into the teens, and he’d barely made it past the starting line.

  But then again, Gary wasn’t the only one who needed to level. Maybe this QuestWright thing has a lot more benefits than I first thought. Cass looked from Gary’s smiling face at hitting level five, then back at the Guildhall, and thought about all of the pinned papers on the boards.

  He’d spent an hour with Gary, as the apprentice Baker showed him how efficiently he could stir a bowl of flour and water. Cass had to admit, it was unglamorous work, but the man seemed to truly enjoy it. Helping around the Golden Crust earned him a few sweet treats to take back to Jim at the gate, then he was off, more and more thoughts in his head.

  As he walked back toward the Guildhall, a small, thin basket of chocolate-wrapped buns in his hand, Cass let his thoughts sweep over his consciousness.

  Gary had a Calling, a daily quest, and a path. It didn’t matter that his job was simple; it mattered that he loved it. But who was to say he wouldn’t love it more when experience was bleeding from his ears? Kara hadn’t told him who he had to give quests to yet, and he’d bet everything he owned that they wouldn’t stop him from making a few that didn’t have anything to do directly with the Guild.

  But he needed a few rules if he wanted to help out Gary, Holt, Rina, and the folks at the Commons.

  Rule one: He’d never sell quests for money. Yes, having some credits would go a long way to make a few things in his life easier, but the Guild already took care of all that. Turning his Calling into a for-profit service would rot him from the inside out.

  Rule two: Quests need to be real and have an impact. Given the choice, he’d never hand them out to people with bad intentions or design a quest purely for the sake of experience. The System rewarded honest work, and he intended to embody that.

  Rule three: Quests should build momentum. For the Questor. For the QuestWright. And for Liora itself. If a quest didn’t help all three move forward, then it wasn’t worth making.

  As he continued his walk, he repeated those three rules back to himself, over and over again, cementing them in his mind and forming a bedrock for all future arguments that might occur. If he was going to be a QuestWright, this was how he wanted to do it.

  Handing off the chocolate basket of sweets to an ecstatic Jim, he made his way to his room, his map, and time to himself. Tomorrow, the classes came, and with them, a deeper understanding of his commitments.

  Tonight, he’d just focus on Liora.