Chapter 5: A Mysterious Benefactor

“So, can it contain anything? Is there a size limit?”

“I don’t know,” Ezra said for what felt like the millionth time.

Since leaving the lighthouse, Milo had been pestering him with questions nonstop. Thankfully the end was in sight. The industrial center lay straight ahead, covered in the glow of a newly refueled lighthouse. Light pulsed on the metal as bright rays ran through the city and back to where they stood. The lighthouses served two purposes. To direct airships coming from the third layer and reduce crime on the first layer. It served the second purpose now. If Ezra hadn’t seen the industrial center, he likely would have strangled Milo by now.

“You’re forgetting something,” Owen spoke up after being silent for the past few hours. “This orb won’t solve all our problems. We still need to purchase other gear.”

“And you need money for that.” Milo’s defeated tone indicated to them both he was short in that department.

He wasn’t the only one. The first barrier to becoming a ground-seeker had been removed due to fortunate happenstance, but the second wouldn’t so easily disappear. Unless Ezra thought. “I have an idea.”

“And what's that,” Owen replied.

“According to our contracts with White Rock, we’re required to meet our weekly quotas, but nothing says we can’t go over them.”

Milo stared at Ezra like he was an idiot. “Why would we do that? We can barely meet the quota as is, and even if we somehow exceeded our quota, it’s not like they’ll let us keep the extra stuff we mine.”

“But what if they don’t know about the extra stuff.”

Owen’s eyes lit up as the realization hit him. “You’re going to use the orb to store it, and by hitting your weekly quota, they won’t suspect a thing.”

“And I’ll be able to hit the quota a lot faster by using the orb.”

“You really have to come up with a better name for that thing,” Milo said. “How long do you think it’ll take to gather enough minerals to sell?”

“Well, we need climbing equipment, basic weapons, armor, food to last us a few days, tents…” Owen continued rambling and counting off items on his fingers.

Ezra put a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Considering what’s absolutely necessary, how much will it cost?”

Owen paused as if imagining the items in front of him. “About 35,000 silver or 7,000 Alren Coins.”

“Think we can try next year, guys?”

Owen glared at Milo. “There is no next year.”

Milo put up his hands defensively. “I know. I know, but doesn’t that seem like a lot? Ezra, are you sure you can get that much money?”

“There’s no other choice. Give me five days, and I’ll get it.”

They arrived at the White Rock employment center and hung up their bags. Owen said he would bring the orb tomorrow and slip it to Ezra in the morning. Milo promised to temporarily store any extra material at his apartment. The inventory limit was one of the few things Ezra could give him an answer to. They went their separate ways, each thinking of tomorrow—the day they had a chance to finally grasp their dreams.

Ezra met with Owen the next morning as they geared up for the day. As he passed Ezra, Owen slipped the orb into his day pack. Others slid into steel-toed boots and high-vis vests as Ezra pulled the shiny sphere from his bag. He jumped as Darian commanded everyone to get moving and shoved the orb into his pocket.

After stumbling into the rest of his gear, he was out the door in seconds. Now was not the time to raise suspicion; once Darian was far enough ahead, he pulled out the orb. The smooth metal radiated light. It was too clean for everything it must have been through. The words inventory full still flashed on top. As he ran his fingers along the orb, an indent he was sure hadn’t been there before, or perhaps he had been too panicked to notice, interrupted the smooth surface. On the back, the words “To Thorin” were carved into the metal.

Who's Thorin? That wasn’t a name he had heard, and usually, ancient objects were never addressed to someone. It must have something to do with that vision I had. It was the only possibility he could think of. Milo had asked him to come up with a name, and it seemed the orb had given it to him. “Thorin-sphere,” Ezra whispered to himself. It slid off his tongue easily.

As they entered the dig site, Ezra tried to distance himself from most of the group. He glanced back at Darian. The lanky man was preoccupied with several new employees. He took the Thorin-sphere from his pocket and tapped the light on the top. A blue screen opened in front of him, and he tapped view inventory. Every space in the grid was filled with various pieces of rubble. As he scrolled down, he noticed a few spots filled with vibro-crystals.

The vibro-crystals would be valuable, and dropping everything at once would make quite the ruckus. This is going to be a pain, Ezra complained as he started tapping on each piece of stone individually.

Drop

Store

Delete

What does the store option do, he wondered. Tapping the option made the item disappear. A notification popped up.

Item has been successfully stored

“Then where is it,” Ezra muttered. He tapped on another item and pressed delete.

Item has been deleted

As of now, there’s no difference between store and delete. At least that I can tell. Ezra crouched down and weighed his options. There doesn’t seem to be any drawback to storing, so I’ll do that.

He clicked on each rock and pressed store until only seven vibro-crystals were left in his inventory. The entire grid was seven by twenty and spanned a hundred forty boxes. He got back up and stared down the vein of ore in front of him. An idea blinked into his mind, and he pressed the Thorin-sphere against the ore. Nothing happened.

“Too good to be true,” he muttered and shoved the orb back into his pocket. There was one more thing he wanted to try. Picking up his pickaxe, Ezra excavated the edges of the ore about a finger’s length deep. Once most of it was exposed, he tapped the Thorin-sphere against it again.

The lumpy metal evaporated into thin air. Ezra dropped his pickaxe and checked his inventory. He pressed drop, and the ore fell at his feet. So it doesn’t eliminate all the work, but it makes it a lot faster. It seems like the Thorin-sphere couldn’t detect the difference between the two objects until there was some space between them. But how much space?

Ezra tested his question on several more ore deposits, each time reducing the space between the valuable minerals and the surrounding stone. Once he got the space to about a fingernail length, the orb no longer absorbed the ore. Why the limit now? What law or imaginary line stops it from recognizing the object? It was pointless dwelling on the question. He had found its limits, and now it was time to use it to his advantage.

Several hours later, lunch was called, and Ezra pressed drop on another chunk of ore. His daily quota was met, and he was free to spend the rest of the afternoon gathering materials to sell. Sweat still stained his shirt, but for once the burden of work felt lighter. This time, he did it for himself.

He made his way to the entrance of the cavern and soon located Milo and Owen sitting outside, already eating their lunch.

“So, how’s it going?” Milo sounded suspicious saying those words as he side-eyed Darian who was only a dozen paces away. He was never good at keeping secrets.

“Met my daily quota.”

“Already!”

Owen nudged Milo’s shoulder. “Told you he could do it.”

“I’ll be back in a sec.” Ezra went to pick up his lunch and returned. He sat cross-legged on the ground and began to eat.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Owen. “Where are we going to sell the stuff we get? We can’t sell it back to White Rock, but there has to be some other place that’ll buy it off us.”

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“There’s always the underground weapons dealers.” Milo casually took a bite out of a sandwich.

Now, that was something Ezra didn’t expect to come from Milo. “And I take it you know these weapon dealers.”

“Not yet, but I’ll figure it out.” He paused to swallow. “I’ve heard of one down in The Dire District.”

Both Ezra and Owen knew that the district was aptly named. Only the most grave circumstances led you there, whether of your own making or not. Formally, it's known as District Seven, but no one called it that.

Owen leaned in and lowered his voice. “Are you sure you’ll be safe there?”

“Of course I will. My sis works there.”

Owen and Ezra both glanced at the ground. Eating no longer seemed appealing.

“Get your minds out of the gutter. She works at a homeless shelter. It's how I hear all sorts of stories from her. She doesn’t like to brag about it, so I don’t tell people often.”

“You both are doing so much,” Owen said as he cast his eyes to the ground. “I should be doing more. I proposed the idea, but I don’t want to be a burden you guys have to lug around on your adventure.”

“Hey,” Ezra replied quickly. “You have the whole thing planned out a heck of a lot more than we do. Becoming a sky-seeker seemed like a distant dream for me and Milo, but you understand the reality of it. If it wasn’t for you, we would’ve likely rushed to the application center and gotten ourselves killed before we knew what we were doing.” Owen had waited and that was enough.

“You're the responsible one here. We're just making it up as we go along,” Milo added. “Plus, you saved Ezra. Let him do all the hard work while he’s still in debt to you.”

Owen raised his head and smiled. “Thanks, but seriously, all you have to do is ask, and I'm there. We’re making it to the top together so let's support each other however we can.”

Darian called an end to lunch, and Ezra stuffed the other half of his sandwich into his mouth. He could have sworn the lunch breaks were longer before. Being in the hospital for so long must have messed with my sense of time. He shook it off and got back to work.

Reinvigorated from lunch and the talk about their plans, Ezra churned through ore deposit after ore deposit. Digging a small frame around each piece of metal, he extracted it and moved on to the next. Each time he pulled the ore from the stone, it left an open gap in the cave walls. With a few strikes of his pickaxe, he closed the gap. He made sure to choose different spots and never extract too much from the same place. Work ended, and he deposited the ore at Milo’s apartment.

The next day arrived, and Ezra pressed his fingers against the engraving of Thorin on his way to work. He searched through his memory of the strange vision, trying to see if the name struck a chord with him. As the mining group was about to set off, Milo rushed in and flashed Ezra a smile before he was reprimanded by Darian. Ezra was sure he would find out what that was about at lunch.

The morning passed, and he almost met his quota when Darian called lunch. Today, he was more careful to cover up evidence of his ore extraction. He figured the time sacrificed was better than getting caught.

Immediately once he sat down, Milo started speaking rapidly. “So last night I talked to my sister, and after some convincing—boy did that take forever—she told me about someone who knew a guy who bought a vibro-crystal gun. Well, I tried to track down this guy, but he had only been at my sister's shelter for two days, and you know people in that situation—no ID, not much history to go off of, kinda off the grid whether they like it or not, and my sister didn’t give me much of a description. I asked around for about two hours. Two whole hours and the guy was in another shelter just two blocks down.”

“Enthralling story,” Ezra mumbled between bites of food. “But please get to the point.”

Milo shook his head in disappointment. “Okay, okay. Well, long story short. After questioning the guy, getting chased out of a hotel, and nearly getting shot, I finally found the guy who bought the gun.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for anyone to ask for more details on his adventure. No one did. “He was scared out of his mind. Kept asking if I was with Douglas’s security unit. I told him I didn’t know who Douglas was and eventually got his dealer out of him.”

“Can you take me there tonight?” Ezra asked.

Milo was taken aback. “I saw how much you dumped in my apartment last night. That’s not going to be nearly enough to buy the equipment we need.”

“Well, there’s something I didn’t dump in your apartment.” Ezra leaned in and whispered. “I have seven vibro-crystals in my inventory. With that, yesterday’s haul, and today’s, it should be enough.”

Owen looked up from his lunch. “Then the day after, we’ll take the test to become sky-seekers.”

“Yeah, I guess we do. It’s all happening so fast,” Ezra said.

“Sooner, the better. I heard applications are closing soon.” Owen gazed up at the light above. “Time won’t stop and wait no matter how determined we are.”

By the end of his shift, Ezra fulfilled his quota and filled his inventory. Before leaving work, he swiped two backpacks they had used when going to the lighthouse. He met Milo at his apartment as twilight was turning to night. The lighthouses illuminated Deepburrow like watchful eyes. Despite that, Ezra hoped their plans remained hidden from their ever-present gaze.

The steel streets faded to rust as they entered the Dire District. Buildings huddled together as if to capture warmth from each other and lead into tight alleyways. As the lighthouse’s rays passed over, shadows stretched as if to quickly hide unsavory activities. The houses creaked under their own weight. Besides the sounds of aching structures and the occasional animal growling in the night, everything remained eerily silent.

“How much further,” Ezra asked. He almost welcomed the next pass of the lighthouse.

“Only another block. There’ll be a sign on the outside. A circle with a crosshair over it.”

“Ok.” Ezra pulled his shoulder straps tighter and continued to follow. The night air seemed colder than usual.

After a few more minutes of walking, a lopsided piece of metal hung over their heads. Painted on the crudely cut plate was the white marking Milo had described. Milo tentatively opened the door, and a rush of warm air greeted them.

A man with bony fingers and a monocle over one eye looked up behind a peeling desk. He smiled a toothy grimy smile and tapped his fingernails against the wood. A fireplace burned to the shopkeeper’s right, and a dark black dog rested in front of it.

“Welcome,” he said. Air wheezed through his throat and struggled to make it back out. “What can I do for you?”

Milo stepped forward and removed the pack from his shoulders. “I heard you’re not only in the business of selling weapons but also making them.”

“You would be correct.” He twirled a bullet through his fingers.

Milo unlatched the top of his backpack. “We have materials we would like to sell.”

The shopkeeper leaned over the desk and picked a few pieces of ore from the pile. He brought it closer to his monocle and then pulled it away. Pulling at his chin, he leaned back into his chair. “The other bag the same thing?” Ezra nodded. “I’ll buy the whole lot for 15,000 silver.

Milo motioned to Ezra. Ezra stepped forward and unlatched his bag. On top of the ore rested seven vibro-crystals. The blue light sparked in the shopkeeper’s eyes. “40,000 for the whole lot.”

“But we. . .” Milo put up a finger to silence Ezra.

“How about it? Do we have a deal?”

The shopkeeper stroked his chin again, considering the deal. Milo looked confident the shopkeeper had already made his decision. Both of them could see it in the man’s face as soon as he laid his eyes on the crystals. “40,000 it is. You have a deal.”

The door behind them creaked open, and Ezra froze upon seeing who entered. A plump man with a bald head slithered more than walked through the door. The bald snake’s eyes widened at the bags next to Ezra’s and Milo’s feet. Looking down, Ezra realized the massive logo sewn into the side of the bag in big white letters. White Rock.

Ezra had no time to ask him what he was doing before Hubert glared at them and hissed, “Thieves.” He lumbered forward and snatched one of the bags. The vibro-crystals cast a menacing glow on his face. “You two must be under Darian. The one in charge of the vibro-crystal dig. Of course, the likes of you would be stealing from the site.”

Out of all the things that could happen, this was the last he expected. Do I fight it out with him? Can I talk my way out of this? Can Milo talk us out of this? Will I even be able to apply after this? We won’t have any equipment. A flurry of thoughts ran through his head. Everything was beginning to spin. The bald snake was shouting, and Milo looked ready to fight. The dog was beginning to stir. The shopkeeper backed off, and the building creaked.

“What’s going on here?” A gravelly voice came from the back. The curtain behind the shopkeeper hung open as a tall and well-kept man pushed it aside. He wore a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a cavalier expression on his face.

“Stay out of it. This is a dispute between employer and employee,” Hubert snapped.

The man walked past the desk until his back faced Ezra. He nonchalantly glanced down at the bags and back up at Hubert. He stood nearly a head taller than the bald snake. “A dispute in White Rock. I thought the company was a well-oiled machine. Don’t tell me the gears are grinding to a halt.”

“And what would you care!”

“That is a good question. We could ask each other questions all night if we wanted to, but I’m not interested in that.” A black card appeared from his coat sleeve, and Hubert’s face turned ghastly white. Ezra tilted his head to try and get a better look at the card to no success. The man continued in a smooth voice. “You’re going to let these boys sell their stock and never speak of this place or interaction. Isn’t that right, Mr. Bauer?”

How did he know the boss's last name? Ezra just hoped the man wouldn’t turn on them next.

“Yes. Yes. That’s exactly what I’ll do.” Hubert's head was almost vibrating from nodding so much. He was out of the shop within seconds.

The mysterious man turned to face them. A cordial grin tried to comfort them, but there was too much unknown for Ezra to let his guard down. “Your contribution is appreciated, and you will be compensated accordingly.”

“Thank you, sir,” Milo said, stretching out his hand. The man took it in a strong grip. “May I ask your name?”

“Douglas.” Milo’s hand slid off slowly as the man released his grip. Silence settled in the shop before Douglas spoke again. “Troublesome customers are always a problem in these establishments. It is unavoidable no matter our precautions.” He shot the shopkeeper a sharp look. “40,000 silver was the agreed-upon price. Correct?”

The shopkeeper was shaken out of his daze and went to the back. “Yes, I’ll get it right away.” He returned, and the transaction was completed.

Ezra and Milo kept the bags after they were emptied. No other word was spoken, and they were ushered out with a, “Have a good evening gentlemen,” from Douglas.

Once they were nearly out of the Dire District, Milo finally spoke. “Do you think that was the Douglas I heard about?”

“Maybe,” Ezra muttered. What was on that black card, and why did it scare Hubert so much? The question continued to haunt him all the way back to Milo’s apartment and into his dreams.