Chapter 22 – Resentment

“And you’re saying that all these came through overnight?” Sal asked skeptically as his gaze darted through each of the commission requests displayed on the digital notice board.

He turned to Upgrade, who merely shrugged, like it was normal. Sal sighed as he brought his attention back to the display, no longer surprised to see an additional note appearing in the seconds he had turned away. There had to be close to a hundred different requests populating the board, all with varying requirements. He wanted to reach out and interact with one of them, but Upgrade chided him with a laugh.

“Ah-ah. We both know you’ll not leave here for a month if you start opening them now. Don’t you have a meeting to prepare for?”

Sal’s hand dropped to his side as he frowned. “I know I should be excited, but I’m nervous. Do they expect me to handle all these? Some of them have multiple tabs from the same requester.”

He tilted his head slightly as he stared at the board in defeat. The commissions had finally arrived from everyone who knew he was Myth, and it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

Upgrade nudged Sal’s side with her elbow to get his attention before purposefully stepping in front of him to block his view.

“Go to your meeting with Chatfield, and I’ll have a look through these while you’re away. We can find a few realistic choices for you to make on the side, but your focus should absolutely be on your new tracker project. Quest has given full sign-off on this Chatfield proposal, and the United Guilds Association will be watching your progress with interest. This is an incredible opportunity to show them your skills.”

Her smile was genuine, and Sal wished he could share her enthusiasm. The last couple of weeks had involved a lot of agonizing over Chatfield’s plan to make suits of evolutionary armor, and the ramifications it would have for the workshop of Crafters in the academy.

Before Sal could open his mouth to reply, Upgrade raised her finger to stop him. “Like I told you, I’m supportive of this plan. Saving lives is more important than creative pursuits, and it’s the reason we’re all here. So, whatever it is you’re worrying about, stop it. You need to be focused.”

Both of Upgrade’s hands clapped against Sal’s shoulders, causing him to wince slightly. She raised an eyebrow, and Sal laughed as he wormed his way out of her grasp.

“I’ve been keeping up that training regimen and my body is still feeling fragile. But thank you, I think I needed to hear that…again. I can’t help feeling like I’m resigning all the Crafters to working in a production line just so I can get cool materials for my tracker. I know it’s silly, but I can’t help it.”

Upgrade shrugged. “Easy for me to tell you what to do and not to do, but ultimately, it’ll be your own conscience you need to deal with. Just know that everyone out there has a higher chance of staying at the academy with this plan. I’ve had to say goodbye to countless talented students because they couldn’t cut it in their other classes. This is an opportunity for them to become invaluable to the academy. Do you think the United Guilds Association will be pushing to cut them loose? No, they’ll throw more resources at the academy to ensure the production of the armor sets. Quest will be happy to have more students coming through the ranks, and everyone wins.”

Upgrade laughed as she gave Sal a pointed look. “Seriously, it’s a no-brainer. If they want to work on creative stuff, they just need to do it after they’ve hit their quotas. Having direction and giving them something to work toward is a good thing! I’ll find a way to make their Crafting process much more detailed so they’ll pick up other practical skills. But if the blueprints are like the ones you showed me, they’re going to be learning a lot of high-level processes.”

Sal nodded slowly as a smile crept onto his face. “You’re really not letting me feel sorry for myself, are you?”

Upgrade shook her head and pointed over his shoulder to the exit of the room.

Sal laughed as he turned to leave, giving one last glance at the board. Upgrade sidestepped to block his view of the commission requests, her smile growing wider. Sal picked up his tablet from the table and pocketed it without looking at the screen. He knew that it was still going to be blowing up with notifications from the Credit Store.

What had started as an incredible rush of excitement when the orders came in for his blueprints turned into a knot of stress in the pit of his stomach. He had provided the perfect designs, but not the production process, which had resulted in a bombardment of requests to clarify the optimal method. Sal had resigned himself to the fact that the Credit Store might not be his pathway to riches. Still, there had been quite a few sales so far, and if he had the time to break down the production method, he’d probably earn a lot more… But it was just too much for him to deal with right now.

“Pass along my best wishes to the captain,” Upgrade called after Sal as he reached the door.

“Before or after I empty his material reserves?” Sal shot back as he exited, not hearing whatever she had to say.

Sal glanced around the workshop and saw the immediate animosity reflected right back at him. It had been a gradual thing over the last couple of weeks, where Crafters got increasingly irate at how much preferential treatment Upgrade gave him—from having a workbench beside Upgrade, to Room 17, which was reserved for him to carry out his crafting as Myth. It hadn’t earned him many friends from his Crafting peers.

Making matters worse was how the senior Crafters spoke to him casually, while they treated the second-years almost like nuisances. Sal had thought there would be at least a few people who had taken the effort to build relationships with the Crafters in the workshop, but it looked like his own experience was the anomaly. Martin and Gosia had told him that some of the third-years were friendly, but that the second-years were still fresh from the grueling ordeal of making it past first-year.

Apparently, it was normal for them to be absorbed by self-interest until they matured into their roles and hit the wall of their own progress.

Sal looked from face to face and hoped that they hit their walls soon. It was a horrible thing to consider, but if it made them friendlier, he’d count down the days. When they first started swarming the workshop, Sal had made an attempt to break down their hostility by offering to help with their projects. He was happy to offer a few free appraisals to win them over, but it earned him a reputation of being the patronizing first-year.

A few snide remarks about his Epic-grade outfit didn’t help the rumor mill, and in just a few days, Sal had become a pariah among the Crafters. Even Joshua Mitchell had stopped talking to him when he walked into the workshop. Only Anderson Royce treated him the same out of the first-year Crafting class. Well, of the people he had met and spent time with. Blathnaid, Jack, and Anthony were their usual friendly selves, but didn’t spend as much time in the workshop as others.

Sal sighed and moved toward Room 17, before he was apprehended by one of the many second-years in attendance. The purple shoulders and chest design against the otherwise black uniform was the key identifier. His blond hair was cut tight at the sides, with the top tied back in a knot. Sal gave him a steady look, not sure what was happening, but at least giving him an opportunity to speak.

The second-year turned to look at the other students before moving so his back was to them. When he looked back at Sal, he sighed as though he didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news.

“Look, man, I don’t know what your deal is…but we’ve got projects that have pretty harsh deadlines. We can’t ask Upgrade for guidance when she’s locked away in a room with you.” He gestured to the blueprint room. “Whenever you step foot in there, we’re all kicked out for…reasons, that apparently we’re not allowed to know about.”

He jutted his thumb to the left of Sal’s current destination. “And then you’ve monopolized one of the few Crafting rooms with a multi-tool. When you have all the tools you could possibly need at your bench! I’m not being an asshole here, but could you maybe use your own bench and blueprint during classes? You’ve been here less than two months, so there’s no need for you to take so many resources.”

Another student walked over to the blond, but with a turn of his head and a raised hand, the blond indicated for the other student to stay where he was. Turning back to Sal, he forced a smile onto his face. “I don’t like talking behind backs, so I wanted to say it as we all see it.”

Sal gave the student a nod. “I appreciate you coming to me directly. I can understand your frustrations, and I’m sorry I didn’t consider the position you’re all in.” The blond student started to smile, but Sal raised a hand and gestured to the room he had just exited. “Upgrade makes her own choices, and nothing I say is going to change her behavior. You’re more than welcome to tell her that I’ve been getting preferential treatment and that she should do her job better with the second-years.” With another gesture to his destination, Sal maintained his fixed smile.

“Captain Chatfield wants to have a meeting with me about the armor sets I designed in the blueprint room. If you’d like to tell him that you need the room instead, I’m sure he’ll understand. I was given that room to carry out appraisals for the Reavers Guild, and they don’t want their loot being disclosed to the general public, which is why it needs to be done in private. You can put through a request to Villa, if you’d like to change her mind? Or maybe you could pay the room rental fees for me on the Credit floor?”

Sal tried to keep the edge from his voice as he spoke. All his frustrations poured out and even though the student likely thought he was being diplomatic, his thought process was idiotic. Sal was more than happy to correct those misunderstandings.

“I’m here to learn, like you. If they give me the opportunities to lift myself higher, then I’m going to take them. Just like any of you would. Now…if you don’t mind, I’m late for my meeting.”

Sal sidestepped the blond student, who just gaped at him in disbelief. With a shake of his head, Sal made his way to Room 17 while ignoring the glares from the surrounding students. When he tapped his keycard to the door panel on the frame, he glanced back to see the blond student still rooted on the spot, staring into space as though lost in thought.

A sigh escaped Sal as he entered the room. He couldn’t understand why he was so concerned about the fates of the workshop students, especially when they were treating him like an outcast who was stealing from them. Obviously, it was going to feel like everything was unfair to them, but not a single one of them sought to ask about his circumstances. All of them had made assumptions, rebuked his attempts to help, and then assigned blame.

With a shake of his head, he tried to push those thoughts to one side as he looked around the room. The sight of three ornate chests resting on the table managed to obliterate any remaining thoughts of the students.

Behind them, Chatfield stood with a wry smile. “You took your time.”

Sal nodded and started to apologize, but Chatfield waved his hand like it was nothing.

“Don’t worry about that. We’ve got other things to talk about. My team sourced the materials you requested. However, they thought you might have made a few errors in judgment.” Chatfield tapped one of the chests with his right hand.

“This is everything you requested, with a little extra to ensure you have margin for error. My team doesn’t make mistakes, so I had this prepared separately.” He gestured to the second chest. “It’s the materials they would have used for your project instead. I gave them the information you shared with me, and from their analysis, they think the materials in here will serve you better. Perhaps your eyes will say otherwise, but we’ll find out when we get to that.”

Sal looked at the third chest, and then up at Chatfield, who grinned widely. “What’s in the third chest?”