Job boards were generally cut up into four sections. Most numerous by far were the requests for specific materials or soulprints. Those always varied by the needs and wants of the people posting them. Less common were jobs looking for climbers to escort someone somewhere or to guard some place, usually posted by businesses trying to exploit some natural resource on a higher floor.
Below them were the standing resource gathering jobs the Climber’s Society—or Union, in this case—paid for. Food, timber, metal, and medicine. No matter how much people brought back, there was always a need for more. This particular job board was missing that section, probably because the Meat Grinder was more of a swap meet for people aspiring to be climbers than an actual organization.
The final section was the one Sorin was interested in. It was a sort of matchmaking service for people looking to join teams or to round out the numbers in a team that was partially formed. As confident as he was in his own skills, Sorin knew all too well how climbing solo usually worked out. He skimmed over the postings, rejecting them one after another. Many of them were looking for porters and offering cut rate pay for the dubious privilege, though that was still a better deal than being pressganged into service like that team of rank 1s had tried to do to him. A few were seeking healers, a role that was always in demand on the lower floors before climbers started rounding out their kits.
Sorin was only suited for two jobs at the moment: front-line fighting and ranged offense. Fighting at range wasn’t really his specialty, so he skipped over any groups looking for a mage for the moment. If he couldn’t find anything better, he’d reconsider later. There were a couple potential groups, but nothing fit quite right. Either the composition was off, or the stated objectives didn’t line up with Sorin’s own goals.
Then he saw the perfect posting. They were looking for a front-liner for soulprint hunting to round out a group consisting of a mage, a scout, and a healer. Exactly what I need. Now where can I arrange a meeting with— Ah! There we go.
The Meat Grinder had clearly done its best to model itself after the Climber’s Union—assuming it was structured similar to the Climber’s Society—and that included an attendant’s station. With so many other functions competing for limited space, the attendant didn’t warrant a full counter and had been tucked away into a corner instead. Sorin wove his way through the climbers to approach it.
Surprisingly, it was manned by someone Sorin’s real age or perhaps a few years younger. He was at least rank 10, from the feel of his soulspace, far stronger than anyone else Sorin had looked at. “Don’t think I’ve seen you around the Club House,” he said as Sorin walked up. “First time?”
“Yeah. Needed some gear, and I wasn’t interested in paying union dues.”
The attendant, if that’s what the man really was, barked a laugh. “The Union exists to profit the Union. If it helps anyone else, that’s incidental. But you’re not here to listen to an old man piss and moan. What do you need?”
“I’m looking to arrange a meeting with the poster of this listing,” Sorin said, handing the paper over.
The attendant skimmed it once, then nodded. “Easy enough. I know them. Their leader comes through regularly to shop for deals. I’d guess I’ll see her in the next few hours if you want to wait. Might even be sooner. This post has been up for two days now.”
“Why’s that?” Sorin asked. “Something wrong with this team?”
“Too picky. You’ll be the fourth or fifth applicant, I think. But that’s their call. Can’t ask someone to risk their life with a stranger just because it’d be inconvenient to spend some time looking for a good fit.”
That was a point in their favor, in Sorin’s mind. It meant they were more likely to be smart about things, a quality that was often sorely lacking in the lower ranks. Climbers just starting their journeys tended to be blinded by greed or simply incapable of assessing risks and knowing when to back off. If this group was being careful about who they picked to round out their team, that meant they understood how important good teamwork was and were willing to be patient to find the right fit.
“Got anywhere to be? If not, stick around for a bit, and I’ll point them out when they come in,” the attendant said.
“I think I can make that work. There anywhere I can go to get some privacy? I just picked up a new soulprint, and I want to get into my soulspace to make sure everything’s good.”
“Got a couple meeting rooms no one’s using right now. You could sit in one of them while you wait. I’ll send this group that way when they show up.”
“Sounds perfect, as long as it’s not going to cost me.”
The attendant laughed and waved away Sorin’s concern. “Don’t worry about it. Nobody else is using them.”
“I appreciate it,” Sorin said. “Name’s Sorin. Nice to meet you.”
“Bradford,” the attendant said. “But maybe you knew that already.”
“No?”
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Bradford laughed again. “This is my place.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. You’re the only person I’ve seen above rank 2, and you’re well above it. Rank 10, if I’m guessing right.”
“Good eye,” Bradford said. “I’m surprised you know what a rank 10 feels like.”
“I’ve been around a few.”
“At rank 0? You got some famous climbers in your family?”
“No one you’ve heard of, I’m sure.”
They chatted for a few minutes, then Sorin made his excuses to leave. “I need to go see about getting a whetstone from that stall over there so I can try to turn this piece of scrap iron into something I’m not embarrassed to be seen with.”
“With a sheath like that, I don’t think a whetstone is going to save you from embarrassment,” Bradford quipped.
Sorin sighed. “I know, but it was all I could afford.”
He left unsaid that he was lucky to have any money at all. If those dumbass rank 1s hadn’t tried to jump him, he’d be completely broke and trying to scrounge up any cash at all doing odd jobs. In a way, those idiots had helped Sorin immensely.
“We all deal with that when we’re just starting out,” Bradford said. “A smart guy like you, I’m sure you’ll be on top in no time. Don’t forget that this hole in the wall is where you got your start when you’re a rank 30, alright?”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the help.”
* * *
The private room was barely big enough to fit the table it held. Six chairs surrounded it, each one made of splintering wood in need of a good sanding and rickety enough that after trying them out, Sorin decided it would be safer to stand.
He’d seen the sign on the wall when he’d gone in citing a two danirs per hour cost to rent the room. Bradford hadn’t charged him, and Sorin wasn’t going to forget that kindness anytime soon. So far, his time on this new Floor 0 hadn’t been pleasant, though he did seem to be having some luck with people who worked as attendants. Everyone else had been anywhere from mildly to spectacularly unpleasant to deal with.
While he waited for the team he hoped to meet with to show up, Sorin dove into his soulspace to review the Ice Dart soulprint he’d acquired. He knew what the Climber’s Society archives had to say about it, but in this world, they didn’t even exist. Everything Sorin knew about climbing was suspect until he proved otherwise, and that meant he couldn’t assume a soulprint did exactly what he thought it should.
His soulspace’s walls were no longer bare. A single, lonely painting hung there, its colors dull and faded in a frame made of cheap, pitted wood. It pictured himself in his new, young body, a hand thrown dramatically forward and a sliver of white ice shooting out to fly at some target not shown. That was exactly what Sorin had been hoping to see.
Even though it was just an abstract representation of the soulprint, it still gave Sorin a strong feeling of how far he could send the attack, how fast it would travel, and how much force it would impact a target with. For killing small animals, it would work, but against a real opponent, it would serve as a distraction at best.
There was nothing wrong with a good distraction. Timed properly, it could leave an enemy open to a lethal blow, which was all Sorin was really expecting to get from an F-ranked soulprint anyway. For twenty danirs that weren’t even really his to begin with, he couldn’t complain.
Now that he had some time to actually look around, he turned his attention to the mosaic covering the floor. Further inspection didn’t reveal any new details to him, and despite racking his brain, he couldn’t for the life of him remember that doorway of light surrounded by a dark sea of water. There was no one else pictured in the mosaic but him, though he did note that the Sorin beneath his feet was the middle-aged version of him. That probably meant the mosaic was meant to depict his old blue tower.
Sorin pulled back from his soulspace and silently lamented the loss of Watcher of Doors, the soulprint that allowed him to keep awareness of what was going on around his body while he was inside his own soul. It was a simple, cheap, low-rank utility soulprint that took up almost no space and which he hoped to find a copy of again.
Though he hadn’t had Ice Dart as a soulprint in his original build, Sorin was familiar with the concept of weaving elemental spells into physical fighting. The anima cost was low, and his threshold for using a complex soulprint in battle was so ridiculously overtuned that he wouldn’t be surprised if he could throw F-ranked darts in his sleep.
Sorin was standing against the far wall, running the whetstone down the edge of his secondhand sword and idly speculating on the best way to disable various classifications of monsters with his current abilities when the door opened and a teenage girl looked inside. They locked eyes for a second, then she disappeared with a muttered, “Found him.”
A few seconds later, the girl reappeared with two more people. “You must be the party looking for a front-liner,” Sorin said as he studied them.
As far as he knew, their leader was the woman around his new, younger age. She was properly dressed for climbing, which was to say she had simple, functional, and durable clothes. Her blonde hair was cut short enough that it barely touched her shoulders, and she carried an unadorned wooden staff in one hand.
The teenage girl was dressed almost identically, except she had a pair of short swords strapped to her belt and was half a foot shorter. Behind her was a huge man, well over six feet tall and probably north of three hundred pounds. The similarities in facial features and hair color between the two made Sorin suspect a familial relation. Unlike his companions, he had no visible weapon.
All of them had soulprints, though only the big guy had made it to rank 1. Getting a feel for another person’s soulspace was more of an art than a science, but Sorin was guessing the man either had two big prints or three small ones. The blonde woman definitely had two small ones, and the teenager only had one.
“We are,” the leader said. She gave Sorin a once over, her eyes lingering on the old, battered sword he was sharpening. “Tell me you’ve got better gear than that.”
Fair enough. If I didn’t know how good I was, I wouldn’t be too impressed with how I look right now either.
“My name is Sorin,” he said. “You’re Nemari? And that would make you two Rue and Odric?”
The big man nodded, but before he could say anything, their leader stepped forward. “Answer the question. We’re not here to waste time with some slumrat who thinks he’s ready to climb just because he stole a scrap sword from someone.”
“I’m temporarily short of funds,” Sorin said. “But I believe you’ll find my skills more than make up for my lack of gear.”
“No thanks,” Nemari said. She turned to the rest of her party and said, “Let’s go.”
“Now hold on a minute. How about a test before you dismiss me? I’ll take on all three of you at once and win.”
Rue snorted. “Yeah, right.”
Something in his tone caught Nemari’s attention. “Fine, but don’t expect us to patch you back up when you’re lying on the ground.”
“I know the risks.”
“Alright. Come on, there’s a sparring ring around back.”
