With the frisbee assembled and just needing some time to cure, I set about tidying up my workshop. There was something gratifying about returning each tool to its proper place, knowing they'd be there when I next had need of them.

  It was also a great opportunity to notice little details around the workshop, like a horn filled with some sort of greasy off-white substance serving as a needle holder. The needles were simply embedded point first in whatever the substance was, a series of holes suggesting how often they'd been moved about. I gave it a sniff and was none the wiser. My best guess was some sort of tallow, and given these needles were all iron or steel, it was likely to keep them from rusting.

  As I was brushing up the sawdust, each sweep echoing softly in the large room, it dawned on me how quiet my surroundings were. With so many people hanging around the guild recently I'd gotten used to a certain amount of ambient chatter drifting in over the pounding rain and howling wind. Speaking of which, the sun was shining in through the window, each sweep of my broom creating swirling eddies in the shaft of light. A quick peak outside revealed it was almost noon, the sun blazing higher in the sky than expected. Boundless blue supplanted roiling grey, as the storm had well and truly dissipated.

  Much though it was nice to see the sun, I still needed to grab some shut eye before the night shift making the timing a little awkward. But first, lunch!

  ***

  "Mr Vaul?!" Eimer's kid greeted me with utter incredulity as I walked into the tavern. "What brings you here?"

  "Uhh, lunch?" I said, somewhat mystified as to what the issue could be.

  "You actually remembered for once?!"

  "Manners young man!" Eimer appeared behind him - was that some sort of skill parents unlocked? - chastising her son before turning to me in a conciliatory fashion, "Sorry about that Vaul. Come with me and I'll get you a seat."

  Her son hastily offered an apology, obviously unsure of the rationale behind the action but entirely convinced of its necessity.

  "Don't worry about it," I waved him off before following Eimer. Sheepishly scratching the back of my head, "Sorry, I guess I am pretty bad about noticing the time when I get into the flow of things. I do appreciate you sending one of the boys to remind me, I hadn't considered the extra burden I was placing on-"

  "No, no, none of that now." She cut me off firmly. "Extra burden, really." She shook her head with hands on hips as if the notion was patently ridiculous. I had the sinking feeling I'd gotten her kid in more trouble. "Those two are glad for any chance to sprint out of here after the lunch rush, so don't you worry a bit about it. I know how creative types can get when you're working on a project, Bartan's the same. The building could be burning down around us and he'd standing there wondering why all the flavour profiles were so smoky."

  The tavern itself was unusually empty, most of the adventurers having cleared out with the weather, so it wasn't long before Eimer had me seated with a bowl of rice topped with some kind of fatty meat in a sticky glaze. Somehow Bartan had managed to keep the crackling crispy, and the sprinkling of seeds and finely sliced onion tops adhered to the glossy glaze and sticky rice. There was a symphony of textures across the dish, with the batons of marbled meat melting in the mouth after the initial crunch. The glaze was sweet with deep savoury notes and assured each pass of my chopsticks brought with it a clump of gently steaming rice, the freshness of the thinly sliced onion greens and the toasty, nutty pop of sesame.

  It was food created to be savoured, so I took my time watching the sparse comings and goings as I did so. Eimer called her son into the back for a quick word, and I tried not to feel guilty about the abashed expression he returned with. A party of adventurers discussed a recent trip into the dungeon, the unexpected failure of a navigation skill as they spotted chunks of rock flying around the sandstorm up ahead, at the forefront of their discussion. Thankfully they'd pulled back and the skill resumed operation, but it was a tense moment that would no doubt become a drinking story - and a source of ribbing for the individual in question - for years to come.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  As I neared the bottom of my bowl, a bundled-up adventurer carrying a long, sturdy case that had clearly seen some miles stepped in and had some sort of discussion with Eimer. I didn't overhear much, but when she opened the case to reveal dark wood with strings running across the top I was sorely tempted to move in for a closer look.

  Perhaps thankfully, she closed the case quickly. I wasn't sure if I caught the term guzheng from them, or if it was a whisper in the back of my mind, but either way I was certain that was what the instrument was. Moreover, even from that brief glimpse, I had a suspicion it was a fine example of such. My interest piqued; I gave her my full attention as she abruptly turned to leave. I failed to get a good look at her face, but I did notice a pair of jade earrings that didn't quite mesh with the weary traveller look. Still, nothing wrong with having or wearing nice things, I just kinda wished I could get a closer look at that instrument.

  All too soon I reached the bottom of my bowl and could eat no more. Hopefully a full belly would help me drift off to sleep.

  ***

  A full belly was not helping me drift off to sleep. Well, that's unfair. It might be helping, but if so, it was wildly insufficient.

  Cracks of light streamed around the tiny gaps in the closed shutters, diffusing to a penumbra that might as well be full light to my dwarven eyes. I rolled over for what felt like the hundredth time, failing to find a comfortable position on my usually cosy bed. The hustle and bustle of the guild drifting up seemed to magnify the longer I listened, yet the chatter remained tantalisingly indistinct. The sensible part of me knew I probably wouldn't care about whatever was being discussed, but as I lay there with nothing else to focus on, it was impossible to shake the sense of missing out.

  I sighed. I knew I'd need the rest for later, but straining to sleep was fatuous. I needed a new plan.

  Getting up was a dumb idea, however attractive the prospect seemed right now. Just resting with my eyes closed would be more effective, if damn boring. I needed something to distract me from the frustration of not being able to drift off. I could think about projects to build, but that might be a little too stimulating.

  I could just nip back to the workshop for a little while longer...

  No! I needed to sleep. I needed something relaxing to focus on that wouldn't lead me back to the workshop before it was time for the night shift. Then I remembered the perfect topic, something I'd been rather negligent about since the guildmaster showed it to me. I'd meditate on my class and see if I could read any more of it. A perfect way to feel productive without getting up. If it turned out to be a good way to drift off, that would be perfect too.

  Lying flat on my back, hands resting on my chest feeling my steady breaths in and out, I tried to relax and focus. Text drifted in and out of focus before my eyes. I wasn't sure how long it took, but I had nothing but time and found my status once more.

  Class – ___________ Master Craftsman

  Skill 1 – Passive – _________ ______ Crafting – ______

  \Subskills

  Dependent Skill 1.1 - __________ - ____

  Skill 2 – Active – Insightful Appraisal – ____

  Skill 3 – Passive - _______ ________ - ____

  Dependent Skill 3.1 - _____'_ ____ - ____

  Dependent Skill 3.2 - __________ _____ - _________

  Now for the hard part. I'd been told reading one's status was a form of self-reflection. That even reading as much as I had with such severe memory loss was impressive and that I should be patient, but I wanted some of these blanks gone. I didn't really have a strategy, but I was feeling stubborn so I figured I'd try to focus on and poke at everything until something gave. Eventually my focus gave out and I drifted into unconsciousness, but not before I'd made a little progress.

  Class – ___________ Master Craftsman

  Skill 1 – Passive – _________ _ast_r Crafting – _o__

  \Subskills

  Dependent Skill 1.1 - Enchanting - Mana

  Skill 2 – Active – Insightful Appraisal – _o__

  Skill 3 – Passive - __ss___ _r_j__t_ - _o__

  Dependent Skill 3.1 - _____'_ ____ - _o__

  Dependent Skill 3.2 - __________ Focus - _________