Clint watched as the last of his crew entered the escape capsule. The door slid shut and reopened seconds later. Clint climbed down into the compartment. He sat in the chair and was uploaded, leaving his barracks for the first time.

He materialized on the white stone seating of a gigantic cavern. His crew was worked up about something. Clint had to shout to be heard.

“What the hell’s going on?”

Cranston looked over his shoulder. A scowl was on his face and he uncrossed his arms to point at the two bound figures in the center of the arena “Those little shits dropped rocks on us”.

“What are you talking about?” Clint tried to make sense of the sudden change to what had been a normal day up until a few hours ago.

“Those two shepherds dropped an entire payload. It’s about to crush big parts of the city.” Cranston swept his hand “all these people got the evacuation call too so far as we can tell”

Clint looked over the angry crowd, noting their strange clothing while Cranston continued. “I didn’t see it all but the first few here say that we're not going to get to our ancestral home.”

Clint was distracted when a priest up on his high seat began speaking.

“It was agreed that the usual punishment is not sufficient due to the breadth of your transgressions. Death is too easy, too final for you two.”

One of the figures was clearly shouting something up at the priest but Clint couldn’t hear his words. Clint narrowed his eyes as the priest continued the sentencing with unmatchable arrogance. He watched as the helpless people were transformed into monsters and a sour taste rose from the back of his throat.

When the priest turned to address the crowds relief flooded over Clint. He wasn’t sure what would happen with his crew’s incomplete service but now he saw a chance. They would go to Arcadia after all.

“Good luck” with a sweep of his arm the priest sent the crowd on.

Clint had just enough time to shout “Stick together!” before he was transformed into swirling mist.

His boots landed in soft earth. He put a hand on Cranston’s shoulder and shouted again “Sound off”. One by one his crew checked in. All except for Cal. Clint craned his neck, looking for his last crewmate but he must have moved off into the churning crowd. The crew stood like a rock in a stream as the angry crowd parted around them, streaming off to chase that red flash. A few of Clint’s crew looked like they wanted to join in the chase.

“Are we just going to let that fucker get away? He killed us! All of us!”

“He’s not going anywhere.” Clint reasoned “It looks like we’re all stuck here forever, there will be plenty of time for revenge later but for now we need to get our bearings.”

A good half of the crew looked like they didn’t like this plan at all but years of taking Clint’s lead taught them to trust his judgment so they grudgingly stayed.

“Now,” Clint said grinning as he looked around the mostly empty square “First things first, Congratulations on your transcendence boys!”

They looked at Clint stupidly before mirroring Clint’s grin as realization dawned on them.

“That’s right”

“We skipped straight outta those shit shafts and into Arcadia didn’t we?”

“We’ll never see the mountain city of the builder clan though”

That last comment brought the mood crashing back down.

“What of it?” Clint asked “Do you really want to go to that place? We’d be the lowest of the low and most of the mountain is probably built out by now. We might have wound up back on maintenance duty for all we know.”

A thoughtful look stole over the crew.

“What we have here is a golden chance.” Clint continued “Look around you, this is some kind of above ground city.”

The crew looked this way and that, peering through the curtain of rain at the blurry outlines of walls, streets, and houses.

“We just came with a wave of new residents without warning too. Where do you think they will sleep? In this wet street? In the open? They will need someone to build places for them. I say we get a jump on the competition.”

“That sounds fine and dandy,” replied one of the men “but how can we build anything without our control room?”

“Use your damned eyes,” Clint said gesturing to a nearby house. It was a small, squat affair. Grey, rounded stones cobbled together around the base of the house. A wooden timber frame sprouted from this foundation and was spanned with a white plaster. A few holes in the plaster were boarded up against the wet and the cold. The slanted roof cast a sheet of water out into the street.

“That isn’t a rock. Someone built it. I suggest we find out who and we learn from them. That priest did say one smart thing. We should learn from the locals.”

Clint could tell he was winning over the crew. The prospect of building something was clearly tempting to this group of builders who had been relegated to literal shit work.

“Lets split up” Jerry said. His voice was stronger than it had been yesterday. “We each look around, see what we can learn and meet back here in two hours.”

The crew agreed and split off into four groups, each one taking a different road out of the square. They kept splitting at crossroads until they were each alone.

Clint found himself walking alone under the eave of a particularly long house. He bent down to get a closer look at the construction. There was a loose, crumbly substance between the stones of the foundation. The pillars supporting the roof were coming apart into small threads and shards. Clint touched it and found it surprisingly rough. He slid his hand up the post and pulled it away sharply as he got a splinter. He shook his head at the shoddy craftsmanship. Structures should only be rough where grip was important, and they shouldn’t come apart at the lightest touch. Next, he ran his hand along the plaster, finding it hard and passably smooth but again pieces flecked off at his touch. Don knocked on the plaster and a bit more fell away.

“Hey!” an irritated voice called “What do you think you’re doing”

Clint looked up to see a man hanging out from a nearby window.

“Hey” Clint responded “I’m trying to figure out how this structure was built”

“Well don’t, it’s annoying. I don’t know you and I don’t want you lurking around my house.”

“Sorry, do you know where I could find some builders?”

“What do you think I am a map? Find the construction guild on your own” The angry homeowner slammed the shutters.

Not wanting to piss off the locals more than he had to, Clint continued searching. If he had ever seen a hammer or a saw before he might have recognized the construction guild when he passed under its sign. As it was, he kept searching until he found the largest building he had seen yet. He stopped outside the inn. His neck bent back as he took in all three stories.

“Not bad” he mumbled to himself. The materials were as crude as the house he inspected earlier but that just increased his opinion of whoever put this place together. If they could manage such a big house with such primitive materials Clint wanted to learn from them.

He strode confidently into the inn. He tried to anyways. The door didn’t open at his approach. He tried pushing it and pulling at the knob but the door wouldn’t budge. Clint was scratching at his chin when the knob twisted and an unsteady patron wobbled outside. Clint took the chance to enter the inn. It was a different world entirely. A roaring fire warmed one side of the room and sent shadows dancing on the other. The room was pleasantly crowded and reminded Clint instantly of the common space in his barracks. For Clint, fire was not a good thing. He reacted instantly shouting “Fire” and pointing at the blazing hearth. Every head in the room turned to him.

“Yes, and it’s a warm one too” One of the patrons nearest to the fire raised a mug at Clint “Come and warm your backside, there's no need to scare folks with shouting.”

A little confused yet again, Clint took the locals lead. It seemed the fire wasn’t anything to be alarmed about. He inched over to the hearth. As he got close, steam rose from his wet clothes and the chill began to lift. He turned to the man who spoke before. Most of the other patrons had gone back to their private conversations with occasional glances at Clint.

“Grant” the stranger introduced himself “Who might you be?”

“Clint” he eyed the fire suspiciously “Thanks for smoothing that over, we don’t keep fires where I’m from.”

“From down south are you?” Grant asked

“I just came from the city” Clint answered earning a look from Grant

“You don’t say… you’re the second person I’ve run into today saying that.”

“I’m not surprised,” Clint said “there are easily hundreds of us”

Grant looked slightly troubled at that

“What made you all come to this little town?” he asked with creasing brows.

Grant shrugged “It wasn’t really our choice. There was an accident or something and we were evacuated here. I’m pretty new to this place though and could use a bit of information.”

“Information is free around here, ask away.” Grant said waving his mug in the air.

“Do you know who built this place?”

“Oh yeah, This place goes way back. Sue’s grandfather put up these walls when the town was founded”

“Could he teach me and my crew how to build houses like this?”

Grant gave Clint a queer look.

“Not unless you’re a powerful necromancer. He’s been dead for nearly thirty years now. No, if you want to learn to build you should go to the Construction guild. They won’t take on apprentices without payment though.”

A clattering came down the stairs and a young girl came into the room.

“Looks like our time's up” Grant said. He gave Clint quick instructions to the construction guild before wishing him luck and guiding the girl to a long wooden bar.

Clint ducked out of the inn and made his way back to the meeting place.