The earliest settlers of Beastwick were famous for their rational problem-solving, delving and crafting skills, and pragmatic outlook on life. These qualities allowed them to settle a moderately dangerous area and build the foundation of what is now a great city. The more recent residents of Beastwick, enjoying both a wealth of trade and craft, as well as almost no threat from nearby dungeons, have grown considerably more lax in their discipline, and as such, less weight is given to delving skills. Rather, connections and influence among the circles of nobility are the game of the day.

  ? It was all Grim could do not to jump out of his boots in sheer glee. He’d won the silver thread! Not only had their party taken the highest team score in spite of Don and Mirina’s lack of drive, but he’d secured the highest honor of the year. He’d have no problem getting into the Compass Rose at this point, he thought.

  ? He caught Lucan’s grin out of the corner of his eye and half-turned to bump his ally’s fist. Neither spoke, but the silent acknowledgement of the others’ achievement was more than enough. They’d both have their goals well in hand now, Grim thought. Lucan would have his pick of any guild in Beastwick–or maybe even those in other cities. He’d go far with that level of skill and confidence.

  ? The Guildmaster rose from her seat, a broad smile on her face and the silver-trimmed uniform hanging from one arm. It looked a little large, he thought. Well, he was sure a tailor could size it down for him without issue. The guild might even sponsor the costs. He let his own smile slip through as the Guildmaster rounded the table, headed in his direction.

  ? “Well done,” the Guildmaster said, her smile broadening. “I’m sure you have a bright future ahead of you, Donovan.”

  ? Every aspect of the world around Grim froze, and he hesitated mid-step, his mind jarring to a halt. Unperturbed, the Guildmaster stepped neatly past him and held out the embroidered uniform out to Don. Feeling as though his body were made of ice, Grim turned to look at his teammate, wondering what trick he’d pulled. But to his surprise, Don looked just as confused as any of them.

  ? “B-But,” The large man stuttered, looking between the Guildmaster, the uniform, and Grim’s face. “I wasn’t the one who got the highest score.”

  ? “What are you talking about?” She tilted her head in confusion. “You got the highest score out of the year. That means you’ve earned the silver thread.”

  ? Again, Don looked at Grim. Then, frowning slightly, he shook his head. “No, Guildmaster, Grim got the highest score. The emissary told us.”

  ? The Guildmaster’s eyebrows rose at that, and she turned to stare at Grim. “Did he, now? That’s most interesting, because I was certain he’d given me his word that he would reveal no scores.”

  ? Grim knew that look, and all too well. It was the scornful look of any noble when they were forced to acknowledge his existence. Down the nose, and heavy with scorn. It was as if she were contemplating whether he had the intelligence to carry on a conversation with someone as highly regarded as herself.

  ? “And how, mister Grim, did you persuade Fortikth to break his vow to me?”

  ? She wasn’t going to get him that easily, he thought grimly, tightening his jaw. The situation was tense enough as it is, and he wasn’t going to let her wheedle any more information out of him. Strictly speaking, he’d broken no rules. She could punish him for this perceived slight or make his post-graduation life quite difficult. Sure, he could flex his knowledge and argue how that made him an exceptional expeditioner, but the potential rewards were far outweighed by the risks.

  ? After he was silent for several long seconds, she clicked her tongue. “Well, you should already be familiar with the harsh reality of this world. And that is that Don’s father is very highly ranked, and thus, currying his favor is more important than giving you but one highlight in your lowborn life.”

  ? She turned back to Don, and the venom vanished with her words. It was only once she’d stopped staring at him that he realized the Guildmaster had been speaking undercommon. And, because they were noble-born, none of his party knew what she’d said. Her smile was full of honeyed words when she addressed Don again.

  ? “So you see, my fine young man, it’s only right that the reward goes to you. After all, your family’s ranking is higher than any other in this room.”

  ? And of course, that stupid logic worked on Don. His face cleared at once, and a broad, surprised grin stretched across his face. “Oh, cool! Did you see that, Mirina? I got the silver thread!”

  ? “Is there anything else you require us for, Guildmaster?” Grim asked. His hands were folded stiffly behind his back to resist the temptation to attack the woman. She was publicly known to be level thirteen, and thus could destroy him with an errant swing of her hand.

  ? “Yes,” she said, and sneered. At least she had the decency to address him in Common this time. “You are required to be present until I have finished debriefing you.”

  ? “So we haven’t officially graduated yet?” Lucan asked, frowning. “What more is there for us to do?”

  ? The Guildmaster favored him with a patient smile, though not as broad or warm as it had been for the two noble brats. “Not much longer, Mr. Blaze. The official side of things ends with the bestowing of the silver thread, but-”

  ? “Great,” Lucan said flatly, interrupting the woman. “Come on, then, Grim. I’m in the mood for a beer.”

  ? He didn’t appreciate being used as a tool to snub the self-important, groveling woman, but he accepted the early chance at an escape and followed Lucan through the door without another word. After all, if they’d graduated, then he had no reason to pander to the guildmaster’s ego now.

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  ? “Dam noble pissing contest,” Lucan growled, just loud enough for Grim to pick it up. “Think their bloodline makes them some kind of chosen people.”

  ? That came as somewhat of a surprise to Grim, enough so that he actually stopped for a moment. “Wait. You’re not a noble?”

  ? “I technically am,” Lucan said, also pausing and glancing over his shoulder. There was a strange expression on his face that Grim couldn’t quite place. Anger? Determination? “My parents earned enough money trading to buy themselves property in the inner city, and became nobles. I earned nobility by extension.”

  ? He tried to suppress it, but he felt the corners of his mouth turn down in a gesture of distaste. He’d assumed Lucan was a commoner like him, just from a more financially stable family. But to learn that he was a noble this entire time felt like a small betrayal. Or was he only thinking that because of the guildmaster’s recent theft of his earned honor? As he bounced that idea around in his head, Lucan continued.

  ? “Don’t look at me like that. It’s my parents’ title, not mine. I have no interest in being nobility. Hell, the second I finish my first delve, I’m renting a room out in one of the halls. I’ll live alone until I get into a guild.”

  ? “Sorry,” Grim said quickly. “Force of habit. Nobles are the scum of the earth, and even the smallest mention of them pisses me off.”

  ? Lucan nodded slowly. “Trust me, I get it. I feel the same way, even though I’m not an orphan like you.”?

  ? So he had known, Grim thought. He’d kept it a pretty good secret during his time with the starter guild, and even his teachers hadn’t mentioned it. It was surprisingly easy to keep his past a secret, to avoid all the awkward questions and judgmental stares. The Guildmaster had known, of course. But he’d chosen his name only after joining the starter guild, as was customary with all adults. But outside of the Guildmaster and his teachers, nobody had known that he was an orphan.

  ? “Sorry, I don’t really care,” Lucan said. “I get it’s tragic and all that shit, but you’re strong. You’ll clearly do fine on your own.”

  ? At that, Grim could only shrug. “Still, don’t go telling everyone about that.”

  ? “I don’t know why you bother to hide it. Outside of the guild administrators, I wager you’d get a lot of sympathy, being a child of Evandross.”

  ? Grim froze, his hand dropping to his right hip where one of his knives usually hung, but only encountered the hilt. “How did you know that?”

  ? Lucan snorted. “Look at you, man. Your hair is silver, and your eyes are yellow. You look just like that one politician who was killed in the dungeon flood.”

  ? “Politician?” Grim searched his memory, but could only come up with a few faces from his earliest years. He’d been rather young when Evandross, his hometown, had been ransacked by a flood of rampaging monsters. It had been a fairly new settlement, and thus, the highest-level resident had been a politician from Beastwick, and even he’d been unable to fend off all the monsters. Apart from that woman, Grim could only remember a few others–his parents were not included, though he’d never know the reason for that.

  ? “Yeah, Gromswell, or something.”

  ? “Grimveil,” Grim corrected. “I remember reading about her, and I think I did see her once or twice, but my memory’s not the best.”

  ? He locked eyes with Lucan. The realization that the delver knew this much about him wasn’t exactly comforting. It didn’t feel like betrayal, as the revelation of his noble status had, but it still filled him with an icy feeling. “But still. Don’t tell anyone about it. I can deal without the mess, and I don’t want people gossiping about me.”

  ? “I told you, I don’t care,” Lucan said flatly, but he did continue to meet Grim’s eyes. “You’re looking at me like you want to kill me. Guess the rumor about your eyes was true.”

  ? Golden eyes burn with ire. Grim shook his head as the old line flashed through his mind. “They only do that in the dark. Besides, it’s not like we were the only ones that had special traits.”

  ? Lucan accepted that argument with a slight nod. “True. The Ketts are known for their hearing, after all.”

  ? Lucan continued onward, and Grim followed without a word. By some silent agreement, both decided not to press further into the topic of nobles and ancestors. The halls of the starter guild around them were dead silent, Grim thought. Most of the students were either out on the town or locked away in the classroom, studying delving history and tactics. It felt like not that long ago that he’d first stepped through those doors, ready to begin his education. Of course, it had been nearly three years. But at a level per year, time tended to flash past with little of interest to mark it besides growing strength.

  ? Grim was the first to break the silence. “So. Any guilds catch your interest yet?”

  ? “No,” Lucan said. “Three Captains did corner me in the bar last night, asking me to consider their guilds. I liked the drive, but they were all from feeder guilds.”

  ? “Rough. Though I suppose they have to try and corner you, because they couldn’t legally offer you a place.”

  ? “Legal or otherwise, I’m not interested. I’m not going to burn away my career in a feeder guild, never advancing. I’d leave immediately after joining, and that wouldn’t look good on my record.”

  ? Grim had to chuckle at that. Guilds were like little families, and society didn’t look too fondly on those who flitted between them too quickly. Never mind the fact that most delving parties were formed outside of guild ties, and that guilds really only functioned to create opportunities for delvers to advance and perform a specific role.

  ? “I’m honestly surprised anyone would be interested in a Merchant or Crafter’s Guild,” Lucan droned on, sounding thoroughly disinterested. “The markets of Beastwick are clogged with money grubbers. Nowadays, the big news is when a guild makes a contract outside the city.”

  ? Grim didn’t know enough about the market to comment on that, as he’d never had much of an income. The starter guild took most of his delving profits to pay for its services. Starting today, he’d be entitled to the full amount of each delve, he thought. The idea of making a living–of being able to pay for food, living, and luxuries–was still hard to come to terms with.

  ? “So. Beer?”

  ? Lucan laughed at that. “Can’t sorry. Promised the ancestors I’d be home for dinner. Apparently, they’re making my favorite meal to celebrate me graduating.”

  ? “What’s that?”

  ? Lucan shrugged. “I don’t actually have a favorite meal. As long as it’s got plenty of meat, I’ll eat anything.”

  ? “Right,” Grim said, snorting. “I’ll probably go get a meal too.”

  ? They parted ways at the base of the steps leading to the starter guild, shaking hands firmly. “Good luck in your delving future, Grim. Maybe we’ll get the chance to team up again someday.”

  ? “I’m sure I’ll be in plenty of delves,” Grim replied. “Not as many as you, but Expeditioners are busy.”

  ? “True enough. Well, good luck in whatever guild you end up in.”

  ? It was only later, over a bowl of steaming chili from one of the eastern continents, that it occurred to Grim that–by that parting shot–Lucan didn’t think he had what it took to get into the Compass Rose guild. What did he know?