Roldy went out early that morning together with Hyde, figuring his kin would be up with the dawn like the animals, and easier to spot in the near empty streets as well.

But even with the streets more deserted compared to yesterday while the sun was high; he still failed to spot any properly dressed [Druid]s like himself.

He walked around for half an hour trying to figure out where their kind might hang around, until finally losing patience with the lack of clues and just asking at a nearby shop that sold breakfast.

He got directions to a building, and popped a boiled egg in his mouth for the road.

He was still new enough to the city that his head was twisting every which way as he walked, trying to take in every painting, on every building and sign. He saw one wall that was ruled over by a frighteningly realistic, dark-haired goddess of love depicted with seven admirers of very short stature, and then an amazing piece of a man in the middle of turning into a feral boar the size of a bear.

Somehow that one seemed familiar, but he was not making the connection. If it was even real, hm. The boar riders maybe?

When he came upon the building his directions led to, he was almost back at the inn where he’d started out. But it was no wonder he’d missed it really, it did not stand out–not one whit. Just regular old brick. And this is meant to be a fully fledged [Druidic Enclave], like the one we made in Salcret?

Harold hadn’t been expecting something so… Lame. It was also one of the few buildings untouched by art for some reason. Hm, maybe they don’t mess with Casters without permission?

When he stepped inside things improved slightly, since there was a definite energy in the air that he recognised.

But what he entered seemed to be a sort of lobby to a business, not exactly a school like he’d been hoping for, or even a club where [Druid]s just went to socialise and exchange favors and lessons learned... No, instead he was welcomed by a [Receptionist] who eyed him up and down with sceptical eyes and her hair made up in a bun. “Hello, welcome to Floral Services, how can I help you? You don’t happen to be here for an interview, are you? Because I'm afraid none are scheduled,”

For the first five minutes Harold managed to convince himself that the lady in the street must have sent him to the wrong place. But he had asked for the place where they taught young [Druid]s, and this was apparently it.

He was right about them being a business, but they hired and trained any [Druid] who reached their first capstone for a basic salary–so long as they adhered to the dress code–to help work on the estates and farmlands of the genteel families living in groomed estates outside the city and by the shoreside. And it was not just gardening, but husbandy of magic creatures as well, so it was no wonder a proper [Druid] was required, but it still seemed like a dead end job to Harold.

Nevertheless the Salcret [Chaos Druid] was there already, so he took the time to meet with one of them after they were suddenly more interested when he hinted at what a high tier Enticer-Skill he'd gotten. But just as Roldy had expected they looked more like city [Gardener]s, than any serious [Druid]s–like they were the kind to not have touched earth, except via a tool or the touch of plants, in possibly decades.

Apparently they did not even raise the beasts, or bond with them very much, they just came around for healing and left the raising and rearing to more specialised Classes and focused most of their time on the cultivation of beauty in the gardens, and making sure the wildlife learned to not cause too much harm.

The only other options for Harold were enrolling for a full term in one of the schools, which Harold had known about; or joining the army as a Caster. Which he had not known any details of.

Of course he had to stop for a minute and consider what that might be like being part of those forces he had witnessed; but even if it might mean levels he also knew it would potentially mean grunt work and practising marching and signalling just as much as magic, and probably very little actual fighting most years when the worst a lot of towns suffered was a minor dungeon attack, or beast migration–with maybe double the frequency if it happened to be a village on the frontier, which still meant long months of nothing.

What Roldy knew of the typical army Caster from Redd painted them out to be a Class afraid of getting hurt, and Brunner had agreed. And that applied even to [Druid]s despite their often incredible means of recovery. Because yes; it still hurt just as much, even if you survived it… And so people naturally tended to avoid it.

But Harold knew from early on how getting used to it could save your life, after what he experienced from the very first attempt they’d made at coming here; but apparently if you started out here it was a lesson you learned far later.

So, without making a serious commitment it seemed he was shit out of luck, unless he was looking for a job; and even that would mostly entail working on his Skills on his own while having to ensure the gardens were maintained to perfection.

Lucrative work in the long-run, but not likely to earn him any points towards a rare Class upgrade later in life. I guess I should still visit a proper [Herbalist] and see if I can at least get some resource to help me identify more rare plants.

The young, disappointed [Druid] saved that for another day and went back to his room with Hyde, arriving about the same time as the rest of the [Guild] finished their breakfasts.

It was time for the auction-house, after that Harold figured he would see about heading out to the farms together with Redd and Ronia to visit with family, apparently they kept some pretty exotic animals.

When they were all finally let loose, free to roam the city on their first day out in Dormata, Kalle wasted no time at all. He headed straight for the seedier parts of town where he grew up.

This art boom had not been nearly so widespread when he moved out of here, even if things had been getting started. At the time it was one single neighbourhood that had been swallowed up by the brilliant paintings; and then started the onslaught of the tags and wannabes that did not have the artisan’s chops, nor their Class.

And then the token resistance.

Returning to see that it had lost, but that the movement across the city also evolved with time; it was… Refreshing. He had been expecting to be assailed by memory after memory, instead it felt like visiting a whole new place.

And that was not even mentioning how his old neighbourhood had clearly turned swankier too. It surprised him more than most things they’d found here that had been a surprise to the others, but it did help to explain why he recognised so few of the people, only one shop owner so far. Livia would have recognised the place as having been gentrified, and maybe expected Kalle to be sad; but again; he just found it refreshing.

Instead he had to look for whatever neighbourhoods had popped up to serve as the new slum.

He found them by following the art. Not that it turned worse, or even sinister–not at all.

He just asked where the most outlandish, freaky, and nonsensical art was found–figuring that would lead him to the drug dens and the derelict buildings.

Once the people started looking poorer, and like they were on the lookout for trouble, he stopped at a place serving skewers of meat, known as Döner, served after being pulled off on a thin bun and garnished with dressing-soaked salad.

It was one of the things he had been missing the most, unknown meat flavoured with the spices of the streets, of home.

Once the feeling of being back had settled he started searching for anybody with the look of a dark Caster. Most Classes liked to live up to their reputations after all.

It was not long until he spotted someone to ask, and placed himself in their way; but he asked nothing outright. “Sorry to be your spot of bother and step on your step, I was missing the Ladies’ Frock however, after missing a few turns, has it popped up elsewhere or did some competition do them in?” He was rusty, oh and he certainly felt it.

But the man took his having been gone in stride thankfully, and just gave him a name before hurrying on: Damon’s Goose.

Luckily he had not thought to scrutinise the young [Esperlock] too closely before supplying the information, or he might have noted Kalle's slightly off appearance, with how his movements lagged behind his voice slightly. He was made up as Dunner by use of his enchanted bangle; and thankfully it made him look just like someone who had been a frequent visitor to the seediest bar this side of town some years past.

What Kalle was searching for was certainly a tavern, but he was hardly looking for a den filled with actual crooks. Back when he lived around here it had been a particular brothel that was known to be frequented by the one magic Class that did not belong among the more genteel folk along with the rest of the Casters.

Of course when dark mages gathered, even if it was to drink and fornicate, the place they did so at garnered a certain reputation; and when puberty came around and such things became of interest, that was when you learned which places had a dark rumour about them, and which might be inclined to look the other way in terms of parental approval if you slipped them a couple of extra coins.

Not until you had your Class would you be considered your own man, after all.

But as Kalle came to find out, it seemed nowadays they hung out at more of an inn and tavern, but it was still not the sort of place where you avoided a reputation by going, that much was clear from the glances as Kalle got closer and closer while asking for more specific directions from people who seemed increasingly familiar with the place.

From the outside it looked sort of scruffy, but the building did not stand out and it had a sign with a man throwing dice and landing a Snake Eyes, with a foaming mug in his hand, so it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Then even when he entered it seemed a rather fine establishment; the one thing that drew the eye, and which some might have found objectionable, was the screeching, high-pitched laughter of frolicking Daemons gathered around the hearth, clearly shooting the shit.

They were all a wide assortment of colours, and they had their masters sitting all around, nursing mugs and blowing colored smoke.

To others it might have been enough to send them fleeing back out the door; but to Kalle it looked like exactly what it was; hope realised.