I spent over a cycle in Waldren Perch and spent most of that time eating pies, drinking beer and lying on the big ass bed. I had to hand it to the Siroth, they knew how to revolt in style and comfort.

I'd been provided with a wardrobe full of clothes that actually fit. A mix of loose fitting linen clothes like what I'd received in the arena. Thin, cream, and not particularly durable but good for lolling about in my quarters.

Then there were a couple of thick, dark gray tunics, woven from some kind of reinforced linen that felt like a cross between cotton and leather. They were comfortable, breathable and sturdy enough to stop a knife cutting too deep.

The trousers were even better. Heavy-weave fabric that some genius had figured out how to a make as flexible as sweatpants but looked fit for everyday use. Even the belt was solid and durable none of that cheap, crack-on-the-first wear, fake leather.

Finaly came a couple of pairs of boots. The outer leather was treated and felt stiff, so I wasn't looking forward to pulling them on. Inside, however, they were soft and cushioned and felt like my favorite slippers back home. They were all black and all of such good craftsmanship with no fancy embroidery, no useless ornamentation that felt like it could survive a war and still be comfortable enough for a night of drinking after.

Stuck in the room, I didn't bother wearing any of it beyond the linen clothing and most days only the pants unless I was fucking around with the stone obelisk delivered to my room.

For some insane reason I'd chosen Stonemason for my trade. It seemed to me like it was the toughest job of the lot and so logically would have the best benefits.

The first day I got stone delivered, I spent a few hours chiseling off sections, trying to create a statue of myself. It went as you'd expect. What was tentatively starting to shape up into a blind man's effort at creating Quasimodo turned into catastrophe as a bad choice chisel strike caused a crack down the middle of the stone. It fell apart and I gave up, hurling the hammer at the mess on the floor.

Onlan in his infinite wisdom decided it might be an idea to send up an actual stone mason up to teach me the basics and so, I reentered the world of stone masonry.

The first thing I discovered was that stone masons generally didn't make statues. That was a sculptor's job. The mason set me off with the task of chiseling down my lump of stone into equal sized bricks. He showed me how to do it though I barely listened, finding the whole thing tedious and laborious. By the time he left, I had no interest whatsoever. I would have given up again, if I had anything better to do.

As I didn't, I had another go the following day. It really would have been my last attempt if I hadn't developed a point in Mental Acuity and raised my overall level up to 15. Funny how little things like that can change your perspective. Still, after another couple of days and no more increases, I gave up again and focused on, eating, drinking and shadow boxing.

On the seventh day of my new life as a rebel, my face finally healed. I knew it was official when I received a point to Toughness:

Name: Earl Henshaw

Title: ---

Level: 15

Class: Warrior / Tradesman

Stats:

Toughness – 29 +5

Mental Acuity - 17

Harmony- 0

Total: 46

Progress in Class:

Warrior Level 16: 10/160

Stolen novel; please report.

Level 10 Boon: +5 in durability based Toughness. Bonus points not reflected in level.

Tradesman Level One: 1

Mage: 0

I welcomed the extra point, and even considered reengaging with the stone to see if I could push my level higher. I even had the chisel and hammer back in my hand when there came a knock at the door.

"Come in!" I shouted. Dropping the tools to deal with my visitor. It was Onlan, and he held a bundle in his hand.

"I hope that's my fancy fucking gloves."

He didn't rise to my greeting, closing the door and heading over. "You're looking well Earl."

"I am well. Fully healed and with another point in Toughness."

"It would have come faster if you'd let the healers come and see you."

I shook my head. "Might as well heal naturally if I've got nothing else to do."

He still seemed confused that I'd choose to be in pain, but I reckoned Toughness was more than just the actual beating. Living with pain and overcoming it had to have its own merits to my mind.

"I'm sure you know what you're doing. Here," He held out the package. "The gloves."

I went to grab them but he pulled them away, showcasing his true speed rather than the amiable, steady image he presented. "They come at a price."

"Yeah. Me coming here in the first place." I snapped back.

With a tired shake of his head he tossed them over. I inspected them like a politician checking inside a brown envelope:

Gologrid's Grip

Named after the fearsome Ogrid who stood atop the Velorian defenses on Tarranth and held back three Xeo Juggernauts.

These gloves provide incredible durability and strength.

Crafted from Estra hide, reinforced with olithin plating, these gloves offer exceptional durability and enhanced striking power while maintaining flexibility. The reinforced knuckles are layered with harmonized Osterite , a rare material that channels energy from the power of the strike to create a reverberation effect causing 30% additional damage to living targets.

Level Requirement (30) Price Range – 4200 – 7340 Unitols

Attributes:

Durability: 3400 – 100%

Comfort: 88 of 100

Runes:

Level 3 Rune of Power (Indebted)

+70% Strength boost in for 7 minutes. 50% Mana Drain, followed by a 3% penalty to reaction time for three hours.

Perfect for last stands.

Now this is a pair of fucking gloves," I cheered, sliding them on. "What was your price?"

"A mission," he said simply.

I did a little shadow boxing routine while I waited for him to say more.

"On Erete. One of the moons of Slatir. There is a Foundry Pit that has come under scrutiny of the Archon lord or Slatir. He is a lesser lord of house Aronel and has taken an interest in using the Foundry Pit as a source of additional income and fighting slaves. As you can imagine, that's not the kind of thing we take lightly too.

"No, I imagine not. "What's my role?"

"Train and fight. You will be joining at entry level so, it's unlikely you will face anyone over level 16. After seeing you in action against Acid Soler I have no doubt you can handle that."

"I'd prefer tougher opponents. But if it means I get to fight the fuck it." I paused and eyed him carefully. "What's the end game?"

"There are other things going on in the Union that will require troops. Xeo sightings on the borders. Bad times for all. But we expect the Lord of Slatir to raid the Foundry and take what he needs. When they do, we will be ready. All I need you to do is to be part of the fight and if you don't mind me asking, I would be appreciative if you targeted their mages when the time comes."

I grinned and punched my hands. "I can hardly believe I said I didn't want to do any missions. That sounds like an absolute fucking blast!"

He shook his head with a sad smile. "Part of me hopes you never become too powerful Earl. You are terrifying enough at your current level."

"Aw, don't be like that, Onlan. I was just getting to like you."

The sadness left his face to be replaced by a glint of malicious joy. "I almost forgot to mention. While looking around our stores for suitable gloves, I asked a few of our people. The best gloves in the Union are in the care of the Archons. In fact, it appears they have made a concerted effort to gather any high-quality enchantment they can find."

"So you're saying I should have went with the Archons."

He frowned at my response, even though I was mostly joking. "No. It's unlikely they would have ever given you them anyway. I'm saying that at some point we need to see those horded items flowing back into the wider Union community."

"I get ya. Well count me in on that!"

"You'll need to grow stronger before we can involve you in that kind of mission, but Erete should help."

"Lead the way! I'm bored here and this Stonemason shit is not what I expected."

His eyes flickered over to the mound of rubble I'd created. "You're just starting out. I'm sure as your skill levels increase you'll derive more enjoyment from it. As for Erete, you'll be setting you off tomorrow."

"Not too long a wait then!" I said not bothering to hide my relief. "When do you expect the Archon's to raid?"

"The Foundry is hosting a small Cluster tournament very soon. We expect during or at the end of that. We need to get you into the fighter stables and settled in before that tournament begins. Oh, and enjoy your new gloves now, because you'll have to go there with nothing but the basics."

"What's the basics?"

He shrugged. "Most likely some poor quality clothing, a little money, and a knife. You will be going undercover as a reject from an arena fight pool. Your Echo is arranging that and she will give talk you through your fake past."

"Sounds fun," I replied, looking back down at my gloves with sadness.

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