Echoes of Subterfuge

First Steps Of Independence

Birds chirp on the other side of your window in your mother’s home. You lie languishing in your bed four years since your exoneration from public schooling. You’ve been jobless for all of those four years caught in the winds of a dream. A reviled crash marks your father’s entrance, he hand you your mail, a disappointed and sour look on his face. A letter from the Obsidian Plunder Adventuring Company has arrived: Dear Applicant, it reads,

We admire your tenacity but please stop submitting applications. Obsidian Plunder adventurers strive to provide themselves with an interminable amount of acquisitions, and to achieve this our typical employee is cooperative, vigorous, and diligent. Our work base has no room for squatters, the weak-minded, or the feeble. I think you see what we’re implying.

Your not Obsidian material and you never will be,
Kent Kockthirsty,
Zenith of Obsidian Plunder

You toss the letter pathetically into the halfling-height pile of fellow rejections. You grunt as your position of the family’s pariah and plight is further fortified and cemented into your history, and you prop yourself up to get dressed. As you make your way into the parlor your mother greets you to yet another letter. It’s envelope lacking the same elaborate frivolities of Obsidian’s. “Dear, remember that job I applied you for? The Blue Dragons, remember them dear? They sent you a letter!” You snatch at the note indignantly and tentatively unwrap it to reveal the following message:

CONGRATULATIONS YOU MAY BE A BLUE DRAGON,

YOUR INTERVIEW HAS BEEN SCHEDULED FOR 10:00 AM ON TUESDAS, THE 14TH OF THE FIRSTSEED. THE INTERVIEW WILL BE HELD IN THE BLUE DRAGONS LOWER WARD HQ IN THE LOWER WARDS.

THE SPARK OF A BLUE DRAGON PERPETUALLY SUCCORS,
Kristhya Foxtail,
MANAGER OF THE BLUE DRAGONS LOWER WARD HQ.

A day later you’ve made your way into the Augean Stable of the circular city, the lower ward, and swiftly through the filth in front the ectopic Blue Dragon’s Lower Ward HQ. You feel out of place in in this forlorn zoning, for most of your life you’ve been inexorably isolated to your family’s affluent estate and you sense nearly a centrifugal force tugging at you to return to what you know as comfortable. You resist, however, “Adventure spawns,” you tell yourself,”even at the lowliest of places.” You enter the building.

“I’m here for the interview,” you say. A finger points you to some seats occupied with what looks to be four other interviewees. The waiting room, you presume. Two minutes later your name is called along with the names of four others.

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