Sitting down to eat, an unusually dour Orla stared at her food as Pellin arranged his morning setup.

  “What’s wrong?” Cass asked, taking a bite from a slightly unripe apple.

  They normally only put the best out.

  Orla didn’t lift her eyes as she said, “This is our last breakfast together as three. You realize that, right? Pellin’s got his Guild contract doing whatever he does.”

  Pellin inched his fork over, “Fixing and updating system programs run throughout-”

  “Whatever.” She interrupted, “And while you and I will still see each other because of Common Solutions, it’ll be far less often. I guess I’m just worried we’ll drift apart.”

  “I’ll still see Cass,” Pellin replied, checking over his breakfast one last time. “I’m contracted to work in the Grind for the next year.”

  Cass shook his head. “That’s not what she means. Orla,” She looked up at him, a slight dampness just under her eyes. “We’ll still see each other. There’s no reason that we can’t remain friends for the rest of our lives. In fact, I’ll swear to it.”

  Lifting a hand up, he put it in the center of the table, “Pellin Cray, Orla Marrowind.” They both paused as they looked at him. “I, Cassio Vale, swear to be your friend until my last breath leaves me. So I swear.”

  It was a little dramatic, but there was something about seeing Orla crying that touched something in him. She was the emotionally sturdiest of them. An irascible rock who lived high in the moment. He couldn’t say or do nothing.

  With a wry grin, Pellin stopped fiddling and joined, repeating the same vow. Only a second later, Orla followed suit, the three of their hands hovering just inches off the table top. When they pulled their arms back, Orla coughed, then bumped against Cass’s shoulder.

  “Thanks,” she said softly.

  Pellin took a sip of water with a raised eyebrow. “Do you have a crush on Cass or something?”

  “Ugh, no.” She said with a disgusted look. “His father, on the other hand.”

  “Hey!” Cass said with a tortured expression.

  Pellin snorted at her, “You do realize he’s like, thirty years older than you, right? And he grew up in what was basically a different world than ours.”

  “So? I bet that man makes an apron look sexy.”

  Pellin winced, “You’re going to give Cass a complex.”

  “Too late,” Cass mumbled.

  Orla’s weird obsession with his father became a topic of discussion until it was time to leave, much to Cass’s continual horror and Pellin’s odd delight.

  “I’m just saying,” Orla continued as they walked down the hallways to their next class, “there’s something about your father that’s titillating. Like, he’d cook you a meal but enter the room only wearing an apron.”

  “Please stop,” Cass muttered as he grabbed his seat.

  “What’s with you and aprons?” Pellin asked.

  “It’s not about the apron, but the body underneath it,” Orla corrected, just as class began.

  The prize in System Mechanics with Instructor Marrel went to Pellin, of course. He was the teacher’s darling in every possible way, which made great sense considering his Calling. Had a question about System Mechanics, and the instructor wasn’t around? Ask Pellin.

  As they walked to Institutional Overview, he flapped his reward in their faces like a trophy. “A fully guided tour of the private Guild archives! I even got a ticket!”

  Orla looked like she wanted to throw up. “Only you or a Clerk would find that fun!”

  Gently folding it, he placed it in his chest pocket and patted it twice, “It’s going to be a great keepsake.”

  Meanwhile, Vex gave his prize to one of the Combat Classers who seemed to sleep through the whole block. Seated in the back row and often with his head down, the guy couldn’t show he was less interested in the class if he tried. Vex’s favoritism wasn’t shocking, as every time that student did anything more than snore and drool, the Silver heaped praise onto them.

  “What a kiss-ass,” Orla said flatly, well within earshot of the man as they left the class. “You know the Silvers just want to recruit him.”

  “That’s probably why the prize was a meeting with the Silver’s Company Head,” Cass added, then snorted. “I doubt he’d want to meet any of us.”

  Moore was his usual self when they met up in the Annex after, his presence as unflappable as always. “Do you have your plan all ironed out?” he asked, as if it were just another line in a long-running conversation.

  There’s never any greetings from him, Cass thought as the System Map shimmered into view the moment he sat down. Always straight to the heart of what we spoke of last.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Considering his question, he replied, “I think so.” The note of uncertainty in his tone was hard to miss.

  Moore gently shook his head. “I’ll tell you what I told Gerald in times like these. Don’t think, just do. A single action holds more value than a thousand thoughts. Often, I’ve found the time in waiting was more difficult than the actual event.” His eyes became glassy before blinking, and the standard steel gaze returned. “I’ve told the Guildmaster that you’re going to present him with a necessary change to the Guild and given him my tacit approval of your plan.”

  “What?” Cass was shocked enough that he involuntarily blinked multiple times. “But you don’t even know all the pieces of it yet? Hold on, I’ll show you,” he reached for the bag, already pulling at the strap.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Moore said with a fleeting smile, even going so far as to bend and stop him from pulling any documents out. “You have a goal that you want to see through. As your Clerk, it isn’t my job to poke holes in it, but to help you bring forth that goal into reality. Now,” Standing upright, he looked down at Cass with an expectant look on his face. “You have absolutely nothing holding you back from presenting it to the Guild Master. There’s been enough thinking, Cassio. Now is the time to act. I suggest you prepare yourself with the time we have today. There’s a list and a packet of contracts on the desk for you. Complete those, then, prepare yourself for the meeting.”

  He left him to it as Cass was still staring at the spot he’d recently vacated, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a storm about to break.

  Nothing to do, but do or die.

  Turning back to the desk, his eyes roamed over the list, switching into what he mentally tagged as QuestWright Mode. It was a shift from worrying about everything happening in the world, to a steady focus on steps, goals, and execution. And that’s what he needed right now.

  Eight deliveries, four messages with two outside the city…He looked through the whole list to get a sense of what’s expected. Not the largest batch I’ve ever done. But big enough to take some time.

  Prioritizing those he could get done quickly, Cass stepped into the Ledger and pulled up one of the two dozen Delivery templates that Moore helped him create. Removing the delivery contracts from the stack, he brought up each template and matched it to the corresponding contract.

  With some quick inputs, Moore’s lessons on speed paid off as one by one, Cass knocked them out. They were all Tier 1. Drop off ore here. Bring a component from one shop to another there. Each insured by the Guild’s good name for completion. All with a cost to them, paid by the customers who came to the Petition Chamber. Drafting came more fluidly after a month of practice, with a lot of his old hangups disappearing from repetition.

  The trick to drafting from an outline was simple: clear your mind. Moore had shown him a few tricks for not thinking of anything but the Quest, and they came in handy now as CV stamped vellums appeared in a stack on the desk.

  But he knew that of the thirty he was creating, maybe a little more than half would get done today. He needed his plan to work, or Liora’s gears would continue to move far too slow.

  Creating the Quests with his new templates was fast. Immediately after the Delivery types were complete, he worked his way down in cost of time created. Messages were second, as if they were required to leave the city, the requirement shifted to those with Combat classes and movement skills, if possible.

  Administrative Quests took extra time as he had to ensure his visualization was on par with Moore’s exacting necessities. Must have experience listed. Must detail the route, something he’d encouraged Cass to continue after reviewing a few of his old drafts that hadn’t been completed yet. Must give the name of the receiving party, another detail Kara had missed.

  Not that she hadn’t been a great trainer for him. It was simply the fact that Moore knew a great amount. The man’s memories and experiences from before the Reshaping to now were profoundly large. The more Cass learned about the Maestro, the more he grew to respect him.

  The only slowdown occurred when he got to the single Training Quest at the tail end of the list. He took his time, making sure it was built correctly. A note in the contract from the petitioner said it was for a young man who was listless and far too carefree. Cass thought it was obviously the man’s mother, and as the son of a proud mom who liked to push her children, he drafted it as kindly as possible.

  For a brief moment before he finished, Cass considered unlocking another Uncommon Quest type. One in particular.

  (X) Experimental: A Quest type related to System-triggered, unpredictable, and abnormal Quests

  “System-triggered? How does that even work?

  Not wanting to get distracted, Cass spent the final stretch of time re-reading his documents and memorizing his drawings again and again. One in particular held a speech he’d spent all the last evening drawing up. It spoke of Liora; not what it could be, but what it currently was. The speech was a little grand, but he hoped that would be the extra push necessary to get the Guild Master’s approval. When the notification hit his screen that he had five minutes left, he left and went to the next portion of his day.

  In Diplomatic Haim’s class, Orla won, as expected. With a flourish and a magnanimous smile, the instructor of Interpersonal Dynamics & Negotiation handed the Merchant a prize trapped within a closed fist.

  “For your future,” He said, eyes glinting.

  Forced to wait until the end of class, Cass sidled up to her and asked, “What’d he give you?”

  “Two hundred Crests,” She said with a laugh, “That man understands me. If only he looked like your father.”

  “Just stop already!”

  Lunch blew by, the cafeteria being an explosion of noise as everyone from their Group was ready to graduate, then Myla Jen’s logistics class came calling. Her final class was similar to Dev’s in that a competition was held. One in which Cass did his very best to excel.

  Routing simulations were brought up, resource allocations, and even a fake incursion was thrown in at the end. Though he knew he had a shot at winning, the prize ended up in the hands of a Combatant who really took a shine to how everything came together.

  Myla Jen handed over the prize with a faint smile, “Remember, your Calling isn’t exactly who you are as a person. No one thing can ever truly define a person. We are all collections of thoughts, preferences, and histories. Keep that in mind as you go about your lives.”

  Her words stuck with him. Enough so that he approached her at the end of class.

  “QuestWright Vale,” She said with a flicker of a smile, ‘I’m sorry you didn’t end up winning, but second place should make you feel quite good about yourself.”

  Holding his bag a little tighter than normal, he had a question for her, “Instructor Jen, you said that Calling’s are only a part of who we are, right?”

  “Of course,” She canted her head to the side, “What’s on your mind, Mr. Vale?”

  Cass put his bag down. “I was hoping you could help me with something.” Pulling out several worn documents, he said, “How much do you know about advertising?”