[Sunrise] landed late at night at the Westshire garrison and slept for a few hours in the dedicated hostel rooms for layovers. A young serving boy brought them fresh water to clean up with and some bland but warm scones to munch on for breakfast, and he waved to them with a huge smile on his face when they promptly took off. Melia was an outstanding tipper.

  The rest of the flight to Horizon took several more hours, but it was peaceful, uneventful, and mostly filled with Y’cennia making sure Ellesea didn’t nod off…and then fall off. All things considered, the two flights combined took around eight hours, but when Melia considered that they had not traveled in a straight line and that it would have taken a carriage about a week, it felt justified. Certainly, when viewed objectively, the cost was a bit of a premium, but it wasn’t prohibitively expensive, at least for Ellesea or the group as they were now. Jessica’s earnings from selling the necklaces paid for it twice. Sure, if they’d taken a shared carriage, it would have probably only totaled one or two silver, but the convenience of traveling without pesky neighbors alone was worth it.

  The group was undecided about using the Aetherlines as fast travel due to the cost. Melia considered pushing them towards it, now that she’d had her fill of riding on a gryphon and her butt was sore.

  They were not nearly as fluffy as they looked! Not to mention, she couldn’t even straddle the beast properly because if she tried, she’d have been doing the splits the entire time. She could have, her stats were high enough, but it wouldn’t have been comfortable. The beasts’ backs were too large, and she didn’t have a special saddle built for gnomes.

  Regardless, the group stumbled off the gryphons in the tower on stiff legs and took the stairs down slowly. This was apparently a common feeling among travelers, since there were plenty of benches scattered about at various landings to make the multiple flights of stairs more bearable. Once they hit the street, they stretched and took in the sight of a bustling city already hard at work.

  “Now that we’re here, what do we want to do first?” Melia asked. She turned to Ellesea, knowing she had the most pressing business. “Do you need to head straight to school? What time is your class?”

  Ellesea shook her head.

  “Not until tomorrow morning. Normally, I would go straight there and meet with the counselors, but strictly speaking, I have an exemption for attending a certain number of classes so long as my grades remain stable and I give periodic reports.”

  “Is that because you’re an adventurer?”

  “Technically, because I’m a noble,” Ellesea frowned. “But the current headmaster approves of extracurricular activities and I have a larger degree of freedom because of it.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair,” Melia groused.

  “It’s the nobility,” Jessica answered instead. “It doesn’t have to be.”

  ?

  Horizon’s Flight Tower was at the far east of the city, so it was only natural that the group start their explorations from that end. But before they could do that, one thing had ultimate top priority: replacing Ellesea’s chatgem. After acting as a living battery for a janky wireless speaker for eight hours, Melia was just as keen to find a replacement as the depressed [Mage]. Ellesea wouldn’t feel left out, and Melia would regain the use of her hands.

  Walking into the Communicatorium, Melia was met by the same salesman as last time, who, of course, recognized such a valuable customer. It wasn’t every day that somebody walked in and dropped the equivalent of a wealthy merchant’s yearly tax on a single purchase. When he found out that she wanted an identical replacement for one of the units that had been…mishandled, his smile became pinched. Apparently, even sleazily fantasy phone salesmen had their limit when it came to swindling naive customers.

  Oh, he still sold them one. He even helped them reconnect it to the group. But he did subtly suggest treating them better and pointed to a display of less fashionable, more rugged “adventuring worthy” gems for any future replacements.

  It was only once they stepped back outside that Ellesea seemed to realize that now that she had a chatgem of her own once again, she didn’t have the same excuse for carrying Melia around on her lap as they traveled anymore. Melia laughed and let it happen anyway as they called for a taxi to take them further into the Merchant’s District.

  ?

  Unlike the game, which only had a single, large “Trade District,” real-life Horizon had multiple. Or rather, the Trade District itself was enormous, with each of its components reaching the size of a small village all on its own. Hawker’s Alley was still there, and there were numerous streets with countless shops catering to the average citizen.

  [Sunrise] was heading into what was actually considered the Merchant's District on a map. Their carriage started to climb a small hill, and as it did so, there was a clear delineation between the shops below and the stores above. The buildings, in general, began to look fancier (larger, with tall iron gates and lush lawns), and many shops were replaced by homes. Wealthy merchants and well-to-do families lived here, in an affluent area butting up against one of the Nobles’ Districts.

  But it wasn’t the nobles [Sunrise] was interested in seeing. Melia had her eyes set on an establishment as fundamental to the game as any playable class: the auction house.

  In the game, it never had a real name. Players simply called it “the auction house.”

  The AH for short.

  Back then, the map was smaller too, so the auction house was more centrally located between the bank and all the crafters. While it could still be said that the house was central to all of those, it was no longer within spitting distance. A 30-second walk wouldn’t get somebody next door, let alone halfway around the city.

  Still, the auction house was exactly where Melia remembered it to be. Melia stood before the gates, impressed. It took up the entire side of the plaza square it was on, with a beautiful facade of pillars and windows stretching left and right across the wings. A set of seven steps led up to a pair of carved wooden doors, propped open to let the masses enter freely.

  And despite being located so close to the Nobles’ District, they did admit the masses. Melia watched a passing gentleman wrinkle his nose in distaste as a clearly inferior (yet still finely dressed) layman walked inside, while the guards on either side of the door said- and did- nothing. Emboldened by the apparent equal treatment, Melia led her team inside.

  The foyer was vast, open, and flooded with light from high windows, carefully placed to draw special attention to the multiple statues on display. The first, which was the largest and placed prominently in the center of the foyer, drew Melia’s eye. She let out a small gasp, thinking she recognized the statue, and quickly scurried over. There was a plaque at the base of the bronze statue, and she was very much surprised to find that her initial impression was correct.

  “Have you never been to Asdufa’s Auction House before?” Ellesea asked. “Apparently, this is supposed to be the founder.”

  ?

  [Asdf ;Lkj]

  ?

  Hero of Trade and Champion of Commerce. Unified the four markets into the conglomerate that withstood the test of time, founded in the 652nd year of the Eutevor Kingdom, during the Age of Upheaval.

  ?

  “How did anybody ever figure out how to pronounce this guy’s name?” Jessica asked skeptically from behind them. “It’s got, like, a single vowel.”

  “Who names their kid that?” Y’cennia asked, wrinkling her nose. As somebody born into a weird naming convention, it was a bit of a touchy spot for her. After several seconds of silent contemplation, Melia couldn’t hold it in any longer. She let out a loud, bubbly laugh.

  “I don’t think even he would have known how to pronounce that name,” she sighed, wiping at her eyes.

  “What do you mean?” Alastair asked. “Surely, most people can say their own name.”

  “He was…ah, what did you call them?”

  Melia had to remember what the world called players.

  “Visitors,” she said. Was she technically one, too? “Their names didn’t always make sense.”

  A series of enlightened groans told Melia that her companions understood. Some people tried their best to come up with fitting names for the characters they would be playing.

  Others smashed their faces into a keyboard for inspiration.

  “Asdufa,” Melia said, tasting the word. Strangely, it fit. As best as it could when trying to audibly sound out ASDF.

  “Asdufa Elkayjay,” Ellesea nodded. “Did you know him?”

  “Not directly, no,” Melia shook her head. “He was a [Warrior], but he didn’t care for battle. His talents were better spent elsewhere.”

  In truth, nobody really knew the person behind ASDF ;LKJ. It could have been a young girl, it could have been a man in his 50s. Anything in between, or outside. It also couldn’t have been their first character, as trading on the auction house required a little bit of money to start, not to mention the fancy clothes the avatar wore.

  Indeed, as the statue portrayed, “Asdufa”, as apparently he was known in this world, was a tall, well-built man with a [Warrior]’s physique. He wore a dapper, pristine tuxedo suit with a diamond-tipped cane. He had a pair of dark glasses covering his eyes and a shiny pair of shoes on his feet.

  This drippy-as-eff man was a bank alt.

  Melia imagined that at first, the enigmatic creator of this toon only wanted to use it to store extra junk in the free bank slots every character received on creation. But then, as time went on, either they got bored with the grinding gameplay MMOs were famous for, or else never really enjoyed it in the first place. Clearly, their passion lay in the auction house. Melia had seen Asdf parked in front of an [Auctioneer] stall at all times of day, afk’ing for hours at a time, probably swapping back in periodically to check if anyone had put something up for sale without realizing what it was truly worth.

  Then he’d buy it up, and seconds later, a suspiciously identical item might reappear at a grossly inflated price.

  Asdf wasn’t malevolent when fishing through the auctions, but he was very shrewd. He knew exactly what people were willing to pay for things, even if he also knew he was gouging out their left eye while doing so. Melia never bothered much with competitive trading on the market; she saw the auction house almost exclusively as a way to acquire materials. On rare occasions, she might put something up for sale, and once in a while she’d buy a trinket or a rare piece of gear, but that was the exception, not the rule.

  Clearly, this world valued players from the game, beyond herself, and more than simply traditional “heroes” like those found in the Walk of Remembrance. Her friends had reason to be idolized and deified: they saved the world from existential threats. But in some ways…this man, this character which was created without a second thought for his name, was just as important.

  It definitely gave Melia food for thought.

  She gave her party several more moments to reflect on the founder of Asdufa’s Auction House before working her way further inside. The main doors to what Melia assumed was the premier auction hall were closed; apparently, it was not used every day and opened only for special occasions. Seeing as there were three full sets of double doors leading into the chamber, Melia could only imagine how special they might be…and what sort of audiences might attend. She had never been inside those doors, since in the game they were only placed for decoration and they were always closed off, but she imagined something close to an opera house or grand theater.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Instead, Melia made her way to the side of the room, where several bank-teller-like stalls were built into the walls. These, she was intimately familiar with. A novel, new addition to the House that wasn’t present in the game was a half-sized window, clearly built for the smaller races, with a small ramp that led to a platform in front of a normal-sized counter. Melia climbed the ramp and rang the bell beneath the barred window.

  “Good afternoon, Little One,” a clerk said as she quickly responded to the summons. The lady wore a very crisp suit, much like Asdf’s tuxedo, looking very dapper and professional. Perhaps that had become the uniform. It was, of course, fitted, with all the lines emphasizing and complementing her figure, rather than making her look masculine. Her hair was slicked back into a low ponytail, and she had a monocle set in her left eye.

  “How may I assist you today? Will you be browsing or listing?”

  “Browsing?” Melia tilted her head curiously. Honestly, she didn’t know what to expect from a real-life auction house. Part of her just as soon expected to hear a loud, unintelligible man (with a stereotypical southwestern American accent) screaming out a whole string of words and numbers as soon as she entered the building.

  Since nobody was (and nobody subsequently exited the room with a newfound prized hog or wrapped-up painting), Melia assumed there were no auctions taking place today at all.

  She was mistaken.

  “Indeed,” the teller smiled a very bright smile, “At Asdufa’s, we pride ourselves on having a product to fulfill every need. If it can be sold, we sell it, and if we don’t have it, we can find it. Is this your first time visiting?”

  “Oh, no,” Melia blushed, “But it has been a long time. Probably around a century, I think?”

  “Oh my,” the clerk placed a white-gloved hand dramatically over her mouth. “Then welcome back, esteemed guest. I assure you, our quality since the olden days has only risen.”

  Melia giggled to herself and watched out of the corner of her eye as various members of her party either found a place to sit amongst the lounges or else wandered up to a window of their own. Browsing through the auction house was, after all, a somewhat private affair.

  “I assumed, since the doors were closed, no auctions were taking place. I see that I am wrong?” Melia prodded hopefully. The clerk did not fail to deliver. She took out a crystal slate, much like the one Melia had seen at the bank a week ago, and slid it across the counter.

  “If you are unfamiliar with our system, allow me to give you a refresher. Asdufa’s Auction House is blessed to be connected to the system, and by using this Inventory Slate, you can browse our normal goods. People may list items for sale, which others may then bid on or purchase outright, depending on the original seller’s settings. These auctions are silent and run for the predetermined lengths of 12 hours, 24 hours, 48 hours, or one full week. At the end of the auction, the highest bid will be automatically charged to a connected account, while all others will be refunded. Sellers must pay a nominal listing fee, but otherwise are free to list their items at whatever price they wish.”

  So…exactly like the game, then. Melia took the tablet and slid it in front of her, placing her hand upon the glowing handprint. As she did, the screen turned fully black and opaque, no longer transparent, and brought up a very familiar image. While not an exact recreation, Melia was looking at a very close approximation of the auction screen in-game. It had a search bar at the top where she could type a specific item, categories on the left to help narrow her search, and even an option to narrow results by price range.

  There were filters for rarity, quality, and level restrictions. Options to see items that were brand new or nearing the end of their bid life. And the auction house wasn’t limited to the things Melia would have found in the game, like equipment or crafting materials.

  Yes, those things still comprised the majority of the listings, but Melia found it very interesting that other things found their way here, too. Furniture and works of art were prevalent. There was a whole section for paintings, and when Melia tapped on one at random, it brought up a secondary screen with a small, perfectly detailed render of the painting, frame and all, and included the notations an auction house [Appraiser] had attached on request.

  ?

  [Little Cottage by the Sea]

  ?

  Level: 0

  Quality: 4 stars

  Crafted By: D. Antonio

  ?

  For whom the waters call.

  ?

  *An impressionist take on the famous Chateau d’ Arlene, mistress of Duke Wagner the 3rd.

  ?

  Price: 32 gold

  ?

  Melia raised a speculative eyebrow. She didn’t have an eye for art, not in the classic sense where she could waltz into a gallery, take a look at a twisted hunk of bent and broken metal, and say, “Ah, yes, this is the meaning of life.”

  She was, however, a skilled craftsman, and she could see the great pains whoever this D. Antonio was went through to make this piece, if the system replica was to be believed. If nothing else, she was impressed by the fact that it was a 4-star, in a world where 3-stars were the norm.

  But Melia didn’t need a painting. Nor did she need a loveseat, or two sets of silverware, each missing the fish fork.

  …she didn’t know there was a fish fork.

  She tried searching for common things gamers would typically look for, but found the auction house disappointingly lacking.

  There weren’t any ready-to-apply enchantments in the [Enchanting] section, and the [Inscription] tab was laughably stocked with a single [Scroll of Thunderwalking], which made every step the wielder took sound like they were stomping down some stairs in an echoing hallway.

  Melia searched for a few more minutes, subtly noting that the highest-rarity piece of equipment listed was a Superior pair of pants that looked like they belonged to a mechanic who lived in a junkyard.

  That wasn’t to say that the auction house was light on goods. No, they had thousands of entries to search through. Just nothing that caught Melia’s eye or anything she thought her friends would be interested in.

  She was, however, feeling nostalgic, and just because she didn’t spend hours monitoring the auction house like some players did, didn’t mean she didn’t have fond memories of it. On a whim, she decided to take a final browse through the [Tailoring] supplies.

  Plenty of [Wools], [Silks], and [Linens] were up for sale, but nothing exotic. Nothing out of the ordinary. Rooting through her inventory, Melia selected something she had an overwhelming surplus of, something she had spent her own fair share of gold on when she was too lazy to go out and farm it for herself.

  [Runecloth].

  Originally a late-game crafting material for the base game, it found niche uses during the first expansion and was obsolete by the second. Most people who bought it later on either used it to power level certain points in their [Tailoring], or else used it for a small boost to certain reputations through a quest chain.

  Melia wasn’t sure how much this would sell for these days, especially since there wasn’t any on the market, but if she remembered correctly, they used to go for about 10 gold for a stack.

  “Excuse me,” Melia said, looking up and finding the attendant calmly waiting. “You said something about listing an auction of my own?”

  “Yes,” she said pleasantly. “The process is simple; most of it is taken care of by the system. Do you have the item with you, or is it stored somewhere else?”

  “I have it with me.”

  “Very well. All listings are contactless and will be verified by the system during the holding period. Please follow the prompts on the screen.”

  The clerk guided Melia through the sale tab, which again was much like it had been. Melia was feeling a little sheepish, thinking she could have probably figured it out on her own, until a system prompt popped up in front of her.

  ?

  [You are attempting to list 20x [Bolt of Runecloth] with Asdf’s Auction House. Do you wish to continue?]

  [Yes] [No]

  ?

  Ah, yes.

  As soon as she hit the button, she felt the cloth she’d just set aside disappear from her inventory, and on the slate where she was creating her listing, a little icon of the cloth appeared. Melia smiled to herself, pleased she didn’t even need to drag it out to be processed. She wasn’t in any real need of money, so she set the starting bid at 5 gold and the buyout at 10 gold.

  She confirmed her selection and looked up at the attendant. The clerk took back the screen, blinked at it several times, and her eyes bulged. She quickly mastered herself and said in a rushed whisper, “All listings are final and cannot be edited unless canceled, which will incur a penalty charge. Do you wish to continue?”

  “Yes, please,” Melia said, amused at the reaction. Maybe [Runecloth] wasn’t so common. Should she have increased the price…?

  Not more than 30 seconds after finalizing her listing, she heard a ding. The attendant, still holding the slate, raised her eyebrows even higher. She turned the slate around so Melia could see.

  “Congratulations?” she…asked, with a pinched smile. “It seems your sale was a success. Payment will be mailed to you shortly.”

  Laughing, Melia took the slate back, listed yet another stack of [Runecloth], this time starting at 20 gold with no buyout, set to last for a full week.

  Gottem.

  She handed it back to the attendant, who looked like she might faint, and headed back to her team. If people acted like that with [Runecloth], what would they do for [Glimmerweave] or [Emberthread]?

  Melia collected her team, who were milling about, doing their best not to dirty the sofas, and headed for the exit.

  On their way out, they were nearly bowled over by a small herd of fancy-dressed servants, all rushing toward the teller booths.

  “What did you do?” Jessica asked with narrowed eyes.

  “Nothing?” Melia tried batting her eyelashes innocently, but the smile ruined it. “Maybe made somebody’s day? And ruined someone else?”

  “I don’t think I want to know,” she groaned and picked Melia up as punishment. “Where to now, master prankster?”

  “The post office!”

  ?

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  ?

  Bartolo Andrini’s mustache twitched, forcing him to raise his head from what he was working on at his desk. He sniffed, causing the whiskers to bristle, but otherwise smelled nothing. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

  Why did he have the feeling that something was on its way? Something of profound evil and deviousness?

  The clock on his wall continued to click and clack rhythmically as the seconds ticked by, all the while nothing cataclysmic interrupted his schedule.

  Perhaps he was finally going senile after all these years.

  His eyes trailed back to his desk, where he was reviewing the recent failures of his newest recruits. Some could probably be salvaged, but undoubtedly many would wash out.

  Or perhaps his recent dealings had simply put him into a strange mood, drawing his mind back to the past.

  Nobody ever understood the necessity of a strict training regime for the post office.

  He had been naive once, too…a long, long time ago. He’d been a mere [Delivery Boy], 16 years of age, just come into his class. The previous [Postmaster] had been old and weak, grown fat from years of indulgence and complacency.

  Then, all of a sudden, one day, the dragon appeared. The [Postmaster] had taken one look at the behemoth, had a heart attack, and died on the spot.

  The Post office was instantly thrown into chaos. Who could they turn to for help? The crown waved away their concerns, saying that the dragon wasn’t doing anything harmful. It was simply sitting there, blocking the entrances to an entire district of shops.

  And the king at the time had the gall to declare it a holiday? Granted, nobody could get in or out of those buildings, not with a gigantic black mountain walling them in.

  “Harmless,” they had said. Bartolo scoffed. If that’s what they thought, they were short-sighted.

  How does one topple a kingdom?

  Cripple its economy and ruin its social services.

  The mail MUST go through!

  So many people depended on it for their daily needs! Did they not understand its importance? The system had even granted its blessing by integrating the Post Office into itself!

  And who could the now leaderless people of the post turn to in their time of need?

  Not the crown and not adventures. They were an inscrutable bunch, reveling at all hours and defiling the most sacred of objects. Elves, dancing on mailboxes. The audacity of some people.

  No, the Post Office needed to fend for itself. That was the platform on which Bartolo ran when he set his ambitions high. Others mocked him and laughed…but where were they now? While he remained to ensure the continued success…no, survival of their kingdom’s most critical service.

  People might balk at the thought of mandatory training with the kingdom’s soldiers. They might question the need for every employee to reach level 450 before taking a post in Horizon. But they didn’t know.

  How else could they ensure the legacy of the one thing that held everybody together continued? The very future of their society and the cornerstone of civilization was dependent on communication, and mail was integral to that.

  If some heretic wished to become a [Mailman] with the thought of kicking their feet up while twiddling their thumbs, they could languish in some backwater community as a rank 2 forever. But not in his town.

  Bartolo looked up at the motto engraved into the very stone of this office. It had taken considerable effort to get it…modified…way back when, but he still found it fitting.

  ?

  Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night nor oppression of dragons stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.

  Yes, never again would they falter on his watch.

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