Guardian Angel Chapter 8 (Patreon)

The silence hung thick in the small reception after the door clacked shut, the two women appraising each other. Whatever the older woman wanted, Ana doubted that she'd like it. She kept her hand near her purse just in case.

Drisa broke the silence. "Miss Cole. That's a very interesting class you've picked up. I've never seen nor heard of it. Paragon tier. At level three."

If she was watching for any indication that Ana knew what she was hinting at she  wouldn't find it. For once there was no guile in Ana's appearance. She was as ignorant as she looked, and if Drisa wanted to know anything she could damn well ask.

"Most people would be twice your age and ten times your level before they might hope to gain a paragon tier class."

"Lucky me."

"Indeed. Would you care to tell me, as a Guild official, how this came about? Perhaps what class you were before? I’m guessing that you lucked into meeting the requirements early, and reset completely rather than progressing. Am I right?"

"No. I have no idea how I got it. It’s the only class I've ever had." The fact that she was telling this nosy woman the absolute, unadulterated truth lit a fierce, spiteful joy in Ana's heart. Drisa was probably just doing her job, but as long as her job involved prying into Ana's business she could just cope as far as Ana was concerned.

"Well. That is perhaps even more interesting. I do hope that we can talk about this further, some day, and that you’ll be more forthcoming. For now, I'm sure that you're very busy, learning the lay of the land and settling in, and so on. If you don’t wish to tell me I can’t keep you. Two things, though."

Ana arched her eyebrow at the other woman, inviting her to finish.

"First, you made the right choice in keeping your class hidden. Appearing to have a fairly useless class might hold you back somewhat. People will underestimate you. But it is better than drawing the kind of attention that flaunting a Paragon class would invite. Besides, if you wish to join a pick-up team to try your hand at Delving, it is myself and my colleagues who assemble those. I'll get you out there. It’s unusual for people with combat classes to join such groups, and we’d be happy to have you. If you do well you can always credit it to having high skills. That leads me to my second point. I want to reiterate that your record is strictly confidential, on pain if expulsion for anyone who leaks it. If anyone who should not know about your class even insinuates that they do, come to me. Even if it's a guild officer. They may have access, but they still should not be going into the records without cause, or without informing me." She paused. "Of course, if the Guild needs you in an emergency, we'll take your actual class into consideration. That is all."

Ana stood. "I'll remember that," she said, then, after a moment's hesitation, leaned over the desk and offered her hand. "Thanks."

Drisa half-stood and clasped Ana's wrist, and Ana reciprocated, wondering if the other woman had noticed the delay while Ana adjusted. Another little thing that marked her as an outsider. At least now she knew, and it explained the Captain's odd look when she shook his hand.

The woman seemed sincere enough, Ana thought as she walked out, but that might just mean that she was a good liar. Ana herself had a Skill called Acting, so why shouldn't there be one for Deception or something like that?

Although… were skills just a measure of how good you were at something, or did they actually make you better? Could she ask Touanne about this? The woman already knew that Ana was ignorant, but was this a step too far?

No, she decided, it should be safe. She'd asked about the messages and the crystals. That must be way more basic than the details of how this magical System of theirs worked. If she'd trusted Touanne this far, she could go one step further. Sure, 'slippery slopes' and all that, but sometimes you were better off just sitting down on your ass and sliding all the way down. She was far more likely to get screwed over because of ignorance than because someone found out that she had been ignorant.

"Alright, Torden," she said once she was outside. The man was lounging against the wall, enjoying the afternoon sun with Ana's pack at his feet. "Done here, I guess. If you wanna show me to that inn you were talking about I'll settle in and you can go back to your day."

"Alright. Now, don't judge it until we're inside…"

If the inn that Tor took Ann to was a book, it would have been worn and stained, maybe used to prop up a rickety table in a bar somewhere. But Ana had slept in far worse places, so she did as he asked and reserved judgement.

The inside was quite a lot better. It was spare and worn, but clean and orderly. There was fresh straw on the floor, which was weird to Ana but matched the aesthetic, and even some healthy cut flowers in a vase on the bar. It was, in a word, neat.

They'd entered into a common room, unoccupied except for a man at one table studying a map with a mug of something next to him, and a woman reading a book by one of the windows. Tor brought Ana to the unmanned bar and knocked on the wood sharply with his knuckles. There was an open door behind the bar, and through it a woman called, "Be with you in a bit!"

"No hurry, Petra!" Tor called back, resting his arms on the bar and relaxing into it. "Probably preparing for dinner," he said to Ana.

A minute later a short, stocky woman, a Human Custodian (18) with dark skin and black hair in one long braid came out of the kitchen door, wiping her hands on a towel. "Afternoon, Torden! Who's this with you?"

"This is Anastasia. Anastasia, Petra."

Ana nodded to Petra, who threw the towel over her shoulder and nodded back.

"She's new, and needs somewhere to stay."

"As long as you've got coin, Miss, I've got got rooms," Petra said to Ana. "Silver a night, breakfast and dinner for another six copper. Nothing fancy but it'll fill you up. Pay up front for a week and I'll include the meals in the price of the room."

Ana looked around the common room. It was clean and orderly. The proprietress was direct and earnest, which Ana appreciated. And she didn't have an income at the moment, so every coin counted.

She decided to trust Tor. Worst case she could just move somewhere else. She grabbed seven silvers from her pouch, Petra looking curiously at her purse. It wasn't anything very fancy, a white Kate Spade that had gotten pretty scuffed from the fighting, but it stood out more than Ana was comfortable with. She'd need a replacement, something convenient and not chosen because it matched a lot of her clothes.

"Alright," she said to Petra, stacking the coins on the bar, "I'll take a week to start."

"Glad to hear it! Meals are at sunup and sundown, and I'll wake you before breakfast unless you don't want it. Your room will be cleaned once a week, so that's three days from now, unless you ask me not to. If you don't want your room cleaned you can bring me your linens and towels and I'll give you a fresh set. Other than that you'll need a good reason to change anything. Company is fine as long as you don't disturb the other guests. Is that all acceptable?"

Petra gave her whole spiel without pause, and with the cadence of someone reciting by rote.

"Uh, yeah. That's fine."

Satisfied, Petra dug out a ledger and a key from under the bar. "Full name?"

"Anastasia Cole."

"You want waking up and cleaning?"

"Waking up. No cleaning for now."

"Alright…" Petra drawled in a 'if-you-say-so' voice. "You're on the second floor, third room on the left. Torden, would you…?"

"Happy to!"

"Great." Petra handed the key to Ana. "Don't lose that. It's a one gold fine if you do. You can always leave it with me or my helper Mikkel unless it's the middle of the night, and I recommend you do that. Especially if you go delving! Which I also recommend, though I assume Torden's already started working on you on that point. Always nice to have more ladies among the casuals!"

Ana looked at Tor, who grinned. "Petra here is a stalwart of the casuals. If she can even be called a casual. She pretty much a half-time delver at this point."

"Don't let anyone tell you that you need a combat class to go out in the wilds, Miss!" Petra said earnestly. "Abilities help, sure, but skills will get you far!"

"Besides, any delver would be lucky to have Petra running their camp for them," Tor added, still grinning. "We tend not to think too much about logistics and order."

"There's a truth for you," Petra scoffed. "It's amazing that the average delver doesn't die of starvation or exposure sooner or later. But on that note, I need to get back in the kitchen. Glad to have you here, Miss Cole. Remember: dinner at sundown!"

Petra bustled back into the kitchen as Tor took Ana up a staircase set to the right of the room, near the front door.

"Here," he said, showing Ana a door upstairs. The key worked like any other, and the handle doubled as a latch. Once the door was open Tor stepped inside and put down Ana's pack, then stepped into the hall again. "There you are. I'm guessing you'll want some rest and then dinner, so I'll leave you to yourself now."

"Alright," Ana said, then, "Hey, could I buy you a beer or something later? I've got some questions, but I really need some sleep first."

"Um… sure!" Tor said, his surprise obvious. "I can come by an hour after sundown, give you some time to eat and all."

"Great," she said as she began to close the door. "Thanks for schlepping my pack around. See you later."

"Schlep–?"

The door closed on Tor's confused face, and Ana quickly figured out how to properly secure the door. As orderly as the outpost and this inn were supposed to be, Petra clearly took security seriously. Besides the lock, there was a metal construction that could be slid into place to effectively bolt the top, centre and bottom of the door. Anyone trying to get in would have better luck knocking the hinges out.

There was a window facing the side of the building, which was another possible point of entry, but there wasn't much Ana could do about that.

The room was small and spare, but as clean and neat as the rest of the place. A well-made bed, plenty big enough, sat along one wall. Along the other was a narrow desk with a candle holder and some candles on it and a stool tucked under it. Next to the door was a built-in wardrobe with a larger lower compartment and some shelves. That was about it. She'd have to figure out the hygienic situation later, because at the moment she badly needed to lie down.

She got her footwraps off – boots would have to be a priority – then her armour. She put her gun by the pillow and wedged in one of the sheathed daggers between the furniture and the mattress so that the handle stuck up for quick access. That done she lay down, still dressed, on top of the covers. The bed was not soft by anyone's standards, but it was far better than a fur sleeping bag on the ground. Then she took a deep breath, relaxed, and just cried softly for a while.

It wasn't anything specific. She wasn't sad, or afraid, or anxious. The pain was gone, and she had a plan and a backup plan for how to get along. It was just… Nic was dead, and she'd been attacked and had killed five people, and she damn well wasn't in fucking Kansas anymore. It was too much, too fast, and she hadn't had a chance to really decompress somewhere safe ever since the previous night. If she'd been home she'd have gone to her gym and beaten the crap out of a bag for half an hour, but that wasn't an option. So she opened the valve and cried until enough pressure had bled off that she could drift into sleep.

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There may or may not be another chapter next Wednesday. My writing time has been limited for various reasons the last two weeks, so I've been focusing on Draka. I hope to finish chapter 9 in the next week, but we'll have to see.