My room was more extravagant than expected. One of the tower's higher floors supported a space much larger than the apartment I had in my past life. It wasn't long before I realized why I was gifted so much room. Dozens of figures crafted from clay and glass took methodical well-articulated steps into my room. Each one dropping boxes of materials starting in one of the corners. By the time they were finished, all that was left unencumbered by raw materials was my bed and the floor right before my window.

"Great!" Pheralynn announced as she waved the golems out of my workspace. "So, we get that this is a lot to take in. You can have the rest of today to get settled. But we need you to get to work tomorrow."

"Work?" I questioned. "You haven't really told me what I need to do yet. Also, I think it's only work if I'm paid. Otherwise, it's just labor."

"You're getting paid, don't be silly. You'll be paid handsomely through experience and contacts within the crafters."

"Right," I replied, unconvinced.

"And as far as what you're doing." She flipped the lid on one of the boxes, revealing a mass of ebony fabric. "The crafters need you to process these textiles. A fingers width by three hands, woven fine. Is that within your capabilities?"

"How long do I have?"

They're needed by end of day tomorrow.

"What? That's insane. It would take twelve people twice as long." I said, gesturing to the boxes filling my room that towered taller than myself.

"Maybe twelve other people. But in this case, I think just one shall suffice. I'll leave a golem outside your door. Place your requisitions through him."

"Wait, you still have my tools. Give me my bag, at least."

"Ta-ta," she sang back, exiting my workspace.

If I focused, I could get this work done in a day, maybe even a couple of hours, but focusing wasn't the issue. I knew this scheme and had seen it play out many times for former friends and family looking to 'get rich quick.' My debt was an abstract concept, one that they could extend or decrease depending on my value they think they could milk out of me. If I do too good of a job too soon, more people than just Pheralynn will see for the cash cow I am. They'll start adding in things like room and board or food. Suddenly, I'll be in a bigger hole than I started in.

My best bet would be finding someone besides Pheralynn high up in the crafters. Then, gain their favor or at least show them the value I would carry if I wasn't simply a bondservant needing to spin yarn all day and night.

As the sun set on this expansive city, I dumped boxes of black fabric on the floor in front of the window. I recognized this as the same light-absorbing cloth I felt weeks ago in Poilspont. I quickly did the math, then recalculated, dropping a zero. Flipped that number around and multiplied by eight. Finally, I remembered that I was terrible at math.

"Hey, Broke, based on the prices we saw a couple of weeks ago. How much is this all worth?"

Ignoring any inflation from the sudden exposure, the vantacloth in this room would total approximately five million Nyra.

"Neat."

I bent over the black mass and focused all my energy on my latest creation. It would be the ultimate weapon that no warrior could resist. The perfect tool in my growing arsenal. I stepped back to appreciate my new child. An all-black loveseat overlooking this entrapped city.

"Hey, Broke."

Yes?

"We're in trouble, bud."

The information broker chose not to reply.

The streets played out a symphony of chaos as peddlers shouted offerings to every passing pedestrian. Food vendors offered up samples of neon-colored delicacies. Overhead, buildings shifted, and the occasional guillotine whizzed through the city streets while pedestrians unconsciously dodged. Slowly, I was getting used to the unorthodoxy of this city.

"Come now, Mersault, we don't want to be late for our next appointment. Do we?" Pheralynn called from a couple steps ahead.

Weeks had passed since my incarceration and introduction to forced labor production. Over this time, I think my captors had begun to catch on to some of my plans. After a little over a week of barely making quotas, they decided to send one of the golems in to keep an eye on me. After that, it became much more difficult to slack off.

I paused in front of a clothing shop for a moment, taking in the city's fashions, before my invisible collar pulled me along in Pheralynn's tow.

My second plan to indoctrinate myself to another high-ranking crafter had been going just as poorly. Pheralynn had done a foolproof job of ensuring she was the only other person I ever interacted with.

My only interaction was on these short outings we'd go on. Pheralynn's explanation would be getting me accustomed to the city and its intricacies, but I think she just wanted an extra set of hands to carry bags.

"Where are we going today? You still left me with a sizable quota back at the tower."

"Oh, you don't know how much it means to me that you're thinking about work, Star. But I think we're both aware that you only need a couple of hours to complete your dailies. So how have your transitions been going?"

Pheralynn had given me a laundry list of criticisms for how I used my abilities. One of the biggest being the transition time between deconstruction and reconstruction. She offered tips that probably held some value but definitely fell on deaf ears due to the nature of our relationship.

"It's going fine."

"Wonderful, well to answer your question, we have a meeting with the Fractal Court. Something about unequal offering distribution on the quarterlies this past year. You see, their biggest issue is-"

Pheralynn's words drowned out as my eyes glued onto projected light emanating from a storefront. Inside a tavern, the light flashed up from the largest table, the colors shaped into a scene of two people in an enclosed ring with a crowd of onlookers. One of the two was a man clad in heavy steel, several hands taller than myself. The other was a warrior clad with wooden armor wearing a helm that bore the face of a twisted oni.

"Nev."