“Oh, just look at everythin’! Ain’t it amazin’?!”

“Can’t really deny that,” Pierce replied, passing Liask a glance before looking out over the street around them. Bright mid-morning sun shone down on the crowds and the stalls, as well as the variety of creations throughout. A couple of street performers happily plucked away at their instruments and beat their drums, entertaining a joyous crowd as they looked over art and practical goods alike. To Pierce’s left, he spotted a line of clothing stalls, all featuring mundane yet high-quality shoes, shawls, cloaks, and other desert gear; while to his right appeared a number of more festive stalls, featuring creations ranging from blown glassware, to small carved statues, to large slabs of stone with intricate designs blasted across their surface. Pierce’s gaze lingered on the stone slabs for a moment; it didn’t appear that the designs inlaid upon them were carved the normal way, as they appeared to have a smooth, completely even texture despite the slabs’ otherwise rough surfaces.

“Those are sandrock pieces.”

“Hmm?” Pierce looked back to Liask. “…Sandrock?”

“Yeah.” Liask nodded as she guided him up to the stall, where she pointed at one of the nearest slabs. The piece was sizable, but not too large, at half a meter a side; on its rough, uneven surface, however, were winding and curling streaks where the slab’s rough texture had been considerably smoothened — so much so that, despite a lack of pigmentation, the designs were obvious. “…It’s a kind of art where you start with a flat, but rough slab of stone,” Liask began to explain. “You cover up parts of the stone that you want to leave rough, and then leave the stone outside for a long time. The exposed part of the slab gets sanded down because of all the sand on the wind, until eventually you get those cool designs!”

“This is natural sanding?!” Pierce exclaimed incredulously. “What the hell? How bad does the weather get, around here?!”

“Ha ha… well, what I just told you was the old way of makin’ sandrock,” Liask replied. “I think it usually takes a few decades to work, that way. Sometimes even generations. Nowadays, though, people just sand the rock themselves, or use water erosion, instead. It’s faster.”

“Okay, that makes more sense. Still, though… huh.” Pierce paused, his hand on his chin as he looked over the sandrock pieces. Most of them featured abstract swirls and geometric designs, though a scarce few seemed to use multiple different levels of roughness to create a landscape scene, or a portrait. “…I gotta admit, that’s pretty cool.”

“I’ve always thought so, too,” Liask said. “I’ve always wanted to try makin’ some, myself, but… school and trainin’ keeps gettin’ in the way.”

“Well, doing it the old way seems pretty simple,” Pierce remarked. “Just come up with a design, cover up your rock, and hang it outside the Compound walls. Then come back when you’re old, and admire. Simple.”

“Yeah, I just have to wait ‘til I’m really old to appreciate what I made.”

“Sure, the lack of immediate returns makes it kind of… unconventional, as art goes. I know I sure wouldn’t have the patience for it. But there’s something kind of neat, conceptually, about generational art, I think.”

Liask passed him an amused smirk. “You think?”

“Hey, I’m no art major,” Piece replied in kind. He then turned toward the street and began walking with the crowd again, with Liask keeping pace beside him. “But, I have to be honest… I didn’t expect to see so much art around here.”

“What, ‘cause the Compound itself looks so boring?”

“Well… yeah. It’s all sandy and beige around here. There’s a lot of colorful signs and tarps and stuff that people put up for the holiday, but most of the art itself isn’t super colorful. The art seems to be more about fancy designs and linework than color.”

“Yeah, I suppose… ain’t really much choice, there, though. Treséd’s a wasteland. It’s hard to get paints and colored cloth, around here. The colorful tarps you see only come out for special days, so the color there doesn’t fade… but everythin’ else needs to resist the sun and the heat without constant maintenance. Which, I guess means little color.”

“Fair enough. And, I mean, I guess you don’t really need color, right?” Pierce pointed out as he nodded to their right, toward a stall that featured a large number of small figurines carved into stone. Each figure was barely larger than Pierce’s hand, and they all bore a sandy-gray color, but the intricacies of their designs were astounding. Animals of all forms, specific buildings, even a few people — a couple of the figures were dead-on likenesses of Davídrius or Selind, in fact. Aside from the two of them, Pierce didn’t recognize most of the figures, but it was easy to see even to him that the individual who sculpted the figures had spent a great deal of effort and care to craft each one. “…Just look at those,” Pierce remarked. “I never would’ve guessed that you could create that kind of detail with your bare hands.”

“Well… some of the creators around here are Chaotics. That makes some of this easier.”

“Sure, but it’s still hella impressive, I’d say.”

“True!” Liask replied, a smile across her face as she swept her gaze back and forth across the street.

Pierce watched her for a moment, finding himself smiling at the sight of her own enjoyment. …This is surprisingly fun, I have to admit, he mused to himself. I really thought that this Creators’ Day thing would be a bore, but, well… guess I was wrong. And it’s nice to see Liask enjoying everything, too.

“Hey, over there!”

“Huh…?” Pierce glanced in the direction that Liask was pointing. At the end of the street was another street running perpendicular, and all along that one were a number of stalls and tents boasting food and snacks. Just as he realized the various aromas riding the wind, he laid eyes on a particular duo manning a nearby stall — one of them a young man with dark skin, standing barely shorter than Pierce with a close buzz cut, thin eyebrows, and a strong jawline; while the other was a short, fair-skinned young woman with long, dark, and oily unkempt hair that partially obscured the right side of her face. “…Obra and Minilas, huh?” Pierce observed. “Handing out sandwiches, huh?”

“I guess Minilas decided to go through it with, after all,” Liask remarked, and then raised her voice as she waved toward her friends. “Hey, Minilas! Obra!”

“What—? Oh… it’s you,” Obra muttered as he spotted Pierce approaching alongside Liask.

“When you act like that, it’s no wonder no one stops by,” Minilas commented, her tone deadpan, as always — despite the wry smirk that played on her face. She then turned to look at Liask and Pierce. “Havin’ fun, lovebirds?”

“We’ve just been walkin’ around, enjoyin’ the sights!” Liask replied.

“There’s a lot of cool stuff, around here,” Pierce said. “…Most of the stuff just seems to be on display, but I saw a couple other things changing hands. Are things for sale around here, or what?”

“That depends,” Liask answered. “Some people just bring out their creations to display. Others give ‘em away freely, while still others look to sell or barter.”

“The art’s usually just for display,” Obra added. “While stuff like food gets handed out for free.”

“Not like it costs me anything to make this stuff, anyways,” Minilas remarked as she fabricated a sandwich out of thin air. She then handed the sandwich to Obra, who grabbed it out of her hands and quickly wrapped it in paper — at which point he set it down with a small pile of other sandwiches.

Pierce eyed the pile. “…Business slow?” he questioned.

“Ha ha. Laugh it up,” Obra retorted.

“We get a couple people every ten minutes, or so,” Minilas replied. “But it’s no surprise, really. It’s still mid-mornin’. Not even lunchtime.”

“That makes sense,” Liask replied. “So you think you’ll be a lot busier in an hour or so, huh?”

“Hmph, if only,” Obra snorted, and then directed an annoyed look down the street. “Some outsider show-off is takin’ all the attention.”

Pierce glanced in the direction Obra was looking, where he spotted none other than Mark standing behind a stall of his own creation. A pile of cookies and a bowl of chips sat atop the stall as Mark quickly made sandwiches on the spot, barely able to work faster than people stopping by to accept his food.

“…He’s pretty good,” Minilas commented, her attention focused on Mark as well. “Didn’t think he’d steal the show so much.”

“It’s just the novelty,” Obra insisted. “Those… ‘chips’ and ‘cookies’. People are only goin’ to him ‘cause they’ve never seen that food before, that’s all!”

“Sounds like someone’s jealous,” Pierce remarked with a smirk.

“I… I’m not!”

“Wish I could make those cookies, though,” Minilas said, and then sighed wistfully. “But I can’t make baked or fried stuff.”

“That’s still more than enough!” Obra declared. “There’s plenty of people makin’ food around here that doesn’t need cookin’! People’ll get over that outsider food soon, Minilas, you just watch! Then they’ll be all over us!”

“’Us’? I’m the one makin’ the sandwiches.”

“W-well— yeah, but I put together the stall! I’m helpin’!”

“…All over us, though, huh?”

“It’ll happen! It’ll definitely happen. …Maybe.”

“That’s an odd definition of ‘definitely’ you have, there,” Pierce remarked.

“Shut up, you,” Obra retorted. “You ain’t even makin’ anythin’ at all, are you?”

“Neither am I,” Liask pointed out.

“Oh, just leave Obra be,” Minilas replied, wearing her signature wry smirk. “You know how excited he gets about these things.”

“What—? C’mon!” Obra whipped around to give Minilas an incredulous look. “I’m just tryin’ to help!”

“’Help’, huh?” Pierce echoed, his arms crossed as he passed Obra a playful smirk. “Is that really all?”

“W-what… w-what are you—?”

“Alright, playboy, leave ‘im alone,” Minilas interjected. “If you tease Obra too much, the poor boy’ll shut down.”

“…Hmph!” Obra snorted and turned away from Pierce and Minilas in a huff. “…I’m just sayin’, we’ll beat that outsider in the end! …And I’m not a ‘boy’, I’m a man!”

“I’m sure you are, Obra,” Minilas responded, her tone deadpan as she reached up to condescendingly pat Obra on the shoulder. “I’m sure you are.”

“Hmph…”

“…Well, if you have dead time right now, then why not walk around a little?” Pierce suggested.

“Never know when the lunch rush’ll start,” Minilas replied. “Could be in half an hour, could be in an hour. Or maybe not at all.”

“We can’t leave until after lunch,” Obra declared. “Otherwise, what’s even the point in runnin’ a sandwich stall?”

“If you say so,” Liask said with a shrug. “Pierce and I will come back later and let you know what’s worth checkin’ out.”

“Hmph. You do that.”

“Have fun, lovebirds,” Minilas said.

“Oh, we will,” Pierce replied with a wink, and then nodded toward Liask. “Alright, then. Let’s see what else there is to see!”

“I’m right there with ya!” Liask readily responded as the two walked off, re-joining the crowds of Creators’ Day.

---

*

“…Alright! So, after that fight, you continue walking—“

“Wait, hold on. We just beat up a bunch of guys, right? Can’t we take their stuff?”

“Well… technically, yes, but it’s all useless, so there really isn’t any point. So—“

“Useless? But that guy had a big sword, didn’t he? Why can’t I take it and use it?”

“Uh…” Austin stared blankly across the table, at a young Nimalian man. “…The sword was… broken! When you, uh… killed the guy! Uh, yeah… sorry.”

“…Oh,” the man responded flatly.

Off to the side of the table, Spike and Conrad exchanged a quick glance before turning to look at the group with them. Austin stood on the far side of a relatively small table, with Spike and Conrad to one side, and three WCU students sitting across from Austin. In between them laid a whiteboard with a grid drawn upon it, as well as a handful of sheets of paper that were held down by small rocks to keep them from blowing away in the wind. Said wind softly blew in from the south, rolling across the WCU campus; Austin had setup his table a short distance away from the campus courtyard — where the crowds were — and in the shade of one of the buildings.

“You know…” Conrad spoke up, drawing Austin’s attention. “If they want better weapons, then I probably have some, right? Since my guy is some grizzled veteran-type dude?”

“You only have your sword, shield, and bow,” Austin countered. “Why would you carry more than you need?”

“If the weapons can break, then it’d make sense to carry a bunch, right?” questioned one of the students.

“W-well… that was, um, just because the enemy died. …Look, the point is, there’s nothing worth looting, okay?”

“Then why did we fight those guys?” asked the third student.

“It’s just— it’s just part of the game,” Austin insisted. “This was just— this was just a random encounter. It’s not important.”

“Then why did we fight them?” the student pressed.

“I mean, aside from the fact that they were no-good bandits? Look, if you wanna talk about the game design importance of multiple fights in a day, then we can—“

“Austin…” Spike muttered. “Just… give ‘em somethin’.”

“…Uh…” Austin gave Spike a bewildered stare before looking down at this notes, his brow scrunched up. “…Right… …I guess. Uh, let’s see, then…” His hand hovered for a moment over a pile of dice; a second later, Austin grabbed two ten-sided dice and rolled them across the table. “…Alright, then… so you loot the bandits, and their equipment is kinda beat-up and useless, but you are able to find, uh… 90 copper pieces, and 20 silver pieces between them.”

“How much is that?” asked the first student. “Can I buy a sword with that?”

“Maybe. Depends on the sword. Anyways, we can get to that later,” Austin responded impatiently. “As I was saying, after the fight with those bandits, you continue walking through the woods, which eventually give way to this open tundra. It’s just flat as far as the eye can see—“

“What’s a tundra?” questioned the second student.

“C’mon, don’t you pay attention in class?” retorted the third. “It’s a place that’s really dry but really cold, and nothin’ grows there.”

“Oh, like a desert?”

“Kind of,” Austin replied. “Just… really cold.”

“If nothin’ can grow in a tundra, then why’s it right next to a forest?”

“For the same reason y’all got a massive lake right next to a desert here in Tresnon. Look, the tundra has to be next to something, okay? Just roll with it!”

“Why are we even here?” questioned the third student. “What’s to find in a tundra?”

“It’s… it’s just…” Austin’s brow furrowed with consternation as he stared down at this notes. “…look, the tundra is just on the way to the mountains, okay? And the mountains are where you’re going.”

“Couldn’t we have gone around the tundra? It’s gonna be really hard to find food, here.”

“Probably no cool swords, either…” muttered the first student.

“There’s a town at your destination,” Austin insisted. “Just let me talk, and—“

“What about these ‘skills’, we can use those, right?” asked the third student. “Can I check to see if there’s a faster path?”

“Uh… I mean, you’re already on it…”

“The path that everyone else uses, sure. But is there a faster one?”

“N…no? What? That doesn’t make any sense! You’re going in a straight line!”

“Are we?” asked the second student. “There’s no map, so how do we know?”

“It’s— you know because I’m the DM, and I told you,” Austin insisted. “Look, just, you’re crossing the tundra, and you’re going in a straight line, and this is the fastest path to your destination in the mountains. Is that clear enough?”

The three WCU students exchanged glances before the first sat back with a dejected sigh. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“…Okay,” Austin replied, eying the students uneasily before looking back to his notes. “…Anyways, as I was saying, you continue walking, and…”

Off to the side, Conrad and Spike continued watching. Conrad then turned to Spike, his voice low enough for only Spike to hear as he asked, “is this how Austin usually runs games?”

“He’s stiffer than usual,” Spike responded in kind. “Probably ‘cause of bein’ rusty, and performance anxiety. But otherwise, uh… yeah.”

“If this keeps up, those guys over there are gonna bail.”

“…Let’s just leave it to Austin. He said he had some trump card or somethin’, earlier, so let’s see if that helps.”

“Depends on how fast he gets to it…” Conrad muttered as he and Spike turned back to the table, just as Austin was pulling out a handful of giant wolf miniatures.

“…We’re fightin’ wolves? Really?” the first student questioned incredulously.

“Can’t we just shoot ‘em from way back?” asked the second student. “We all have bows, right?”

“W-well, you do, but…” Austin stuttered, pausing in the middle of placing one of the minis as he clearly attempted to think of a response. “…The wolves… snuck up on you! You didn’t notice them approaching until they’re 60 feet away!”

“I thought we were in a tundra,” the third student pointed out. “A flat tundra.”

“…Look, just… for game balance reasons, the fight starts like this, okay?”

“’Game balance’?” echoed the first student incredulously.

“Is that the same reason we’re having a pointless fight with wolves in the middle of a tundra?” the third student asked.

“It’s not pointless, just…” Austin sighed in frustration. “Just, let’s do this fight, alright? And then after that—“

“After that it’s just gonna be more pointless stuff, ain’t it?” the first student retorted, and then began to stand. “This is boring. C’mon, guys, let’s go check out the rest of the stuff, here.”

“What? No, wait…!” Austin began, a panicked expression crossing his face as the three students began to leave. “Uh, uh— actually, the wolves were just a red herring!”

“…What?” the second student questioned incredulously.

“Y-yeah!” Austin affirmed. “Because, as you begin to square off with the wolves, you then hear something ominous in the distance — the sound of wings beating, followed by a deafening, mighty roar!” He then spread his arms out wide, as if beholding an incredible sight as he declared, “and then, right before your eyes, one of the wolves is scooped up in the claws of a fierce white dragon!!”

“A dragon?!” the third student echoed.

“Yes! A dragon!!” Austin exclaimed, pausing for a second with his arms outstretched. When nothing happened, he coughed loudly, and then repeated, “I said, a dragon appears!!”

“Oh! Right!” came a muffled, distant voice. Then, a second later — just as the three students were looking at each other in confusion — an incredible, bestial roar resounded through the WCU campus. The three students jumped in surprise as, with a powerful wingbeat, a massive white-scaled dragon appeared over the roof of the nearby building, its incredible wings flapping once to ease its decent to the ground — where it landed with a powerful thud, sending reverberations through the dirt.

“Wh-wh-what?!” one of the students exclaimed, “where in the dirt did that come from?!”

“…And here comes the trump card,” Conrad remarked from off to the side.

“Hell of a trump card…!” Spike responded warily. “…Wait, is that Danielle? That’s Danielle, right?”

The white dragon, however, ignored Spike and Conrad’s remarks. It turned its jagged, scaly head to look down at the three WCU students, at which point it released an irritated exhale… and began to speak. “So… this is a surprise. Three adventurers—“

“Four,” Austin corrected in a loud whisper. “Conrad’s here, too!”

“Oh, right. Ahem!”

“That’s definitely Danielle, alright,” Conrad whispered to Spike.

“So!” Danielle continued, in the deep, thundering voice of a forty-foot white dragon, “four adventurers, here, on my turf! What brings you out here, hmm??”

“Uh…” The three students looked at each other, seemingly at a loss for words, at which point the first student stepped forward and looked up at Danielle’s giant draconic maw. “We were just passin’ through! On the way to… some city in the mountains!”

“Oh, yes… that little settlement at the foot of the mountains. Hmph. Are you here to pay for them?”

“What… what do you mean?” questioned the second student.

“Me and that town have had a deal, for generations. They give me good meat every month, and I let them live.”

“Sounds like a raw deal, to me,” quipped the first student.

“Hmmm?” Danielle exhaled a cloud of icy white air around the students. “Do you want to be dinner, too?”

“N-no…?”

“What’s this about payin’ for the town, though?” asked the third student. “Why should we have to pay for them?”

“You fleshy things are all the same, aren’t you? That town decided to go and burn itself down last month, so I need someone to pick up their end of the deal.”

“It burned down? Why?”

“Did you do it?!” the first student challenged.

“I don’t burn things. Not unless you count frostburn. Or freezer burn. Or… ahem! The point is, it wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it?”

“If I knew, then I would be demanding that they pay me, not you.”

“What if we figured out who burned down the town, then?” the second student suggested. “Would that be ‘payment’ enough?”

“…Hmph. If you think you can, then so be it.” Danielle then flapped her powerful wings, sending off a gust of wind that nearly knocked over the table as she lifted into the air. “Have your answer — or your meat — ready in three days, or I’ll take you, instead!” She then twisted around in the air, performing a surprisingly dexterous acrobatic maneuver before flying off into the distance and disappearing over the roofs of the other Compound buildings.

“Wow! That was a dragon, huh?!” the second student exclaimed. “That was cool!”

“Made a lot of demands, though, didn’t it,” the first student muttered.

“Well, it’s a big powerful monster. That’s how these stories always go, right?” the third student replied as he and the other two sat back down at the table. “We probably can’t fight it, right? So we just need to figure out how this town burned down.”

“You could figure out who burned down the town, sure. You could even try to fight the dragon, if you wanted to,” Austin said, while wearing a taunting look on his face. “Or, you can just try to get some meat for it. You have three options, really. It’s up to you which one you go for. You just have three days to do it.”

“I say we kill the dragon,” the first student declared.

“Why not just get some meat? It sounds like it’s just hungry,” said the second student.

“It first appeared by just grabbin’ a wolf, didn’t it?” pointed out the third. “It doesn’t need us to hunt for it. I think we should check out the town, first. We were gonna go there, anyways.”

“Well, sure…” the first student mused. “…I still wanna kill the dragon, though.”

“So, you all decide to head to the town, then, is that it?” Austin asked.

“Might as well,” the third student said.

“Alright, then! So, you resume crossing the tundra, thoughts lingering on the draconic ultimatum that you just received…”

Off to the side, Conrad leaned in toward Spike again. “…Well that sure was something,” he commented quietly.

“Guess we know now what Danielle’s big idea was, huh,” Spike mused.

“I already knew, actually. But I didn’t think it’d be so… bombastic.” Conrad turned to look into the distance, where Danielle’s draconic form had disappeared. “…Was she supposed to fly away like that, though? Won’t that be a problem?”

“Maybe. I mean, it’s probably fine,” Spike said. “She was white, right? Not silver or gray, like those infection dragons. So it should be fine…”

Conrad and Spike exchanged an uneasy glance, at which point Spike stood up from the table.

“Ya know what, I’m just gonna go let people know what’s goin’ on…” Spike muttered.

“Yeah… probably a good idea,” Conrad responded as he watched Spike leave. He then turned back to the table, his attention refocusing on Austin as he excitedly narrated the group’s next segment of their short adventure.