Life in Bloth was harsh, competitive, 'fair' to an extreme, with one set of laws for everyone, and vigorously regulated. Steam whistles called out the hours, halves, and quarters, with the size of the whistle and the length of the blast denoting the difference. The old system of clocks could still be seen on some towers, including the ruined Gnomish Bank. It had been decided that this was a better method, after all, it took away the chance that workers might look up from their positions on the assembly lines to look at a clock, causing accidents and costing factory owners money. Whistles were better.

Gates between the various sections of the city opened and closed on time, as did the regulated mercantile businesses. Curfews in Bloth were rigorously enforced, down to the last second. This made life orderly in Bloth, and everyone knew their place, with a place for everyone, at least in certain quarters of the city. Curfews were not for those at the top, where Ur-Khemysts kept strange hours, and the demands of the noble social scene were strenuous.

Transgressions were met with fines if one had money, and beatings if one did not. Bloth was a 'fair' city in that it was equally unfair to everyone, and all residents of citizen rank or lower played by the same rules. Some of the citizens had complained that the rules were stacked in favor of some and to the detriment of many, but their complaints were ignored. (Or beatings administered to the loudest. Even if true, it was seen as a small price to pay for order and prosperity, and an incentive to work harder and earn a higher place in the city's hierarchy.

The complainers often found themselves helpfully assigned to new jobs as potion testers, animal handlers for mutant beasts, or test subjects in the Experimental Quarter. Complaints were few, and even grumbling was discouraged. Small protests had happened from time to time, but the agitators were known to 'volunteer' for experiments in certain labs that needed sentient lab animals. And yet, even this could be a way to advance in Bloth. The Evolved Quarter had many residents who had benefitted from experimental treatments and came out ahead of the game. Some with extra heads.

It was said by many that Bloth was a place where anyone could start at the bottom and ascend to a place of power. It took hard work, sacrifice, and pain, but it was possible. Not probable, and it was more likely that anyone in the lower classes would stay there, but the myth continued. Bloth's citizens were proud to say that anyone, even a member of the lowly slave races, could better themselves and ascend to the lofty position of Chemist. From there, they could work harder and pass the rigorous tests to become an Ur-Khemyst and ascend the ranks of several societies that vied for power and wealth in the city's core.

The lowest of classes, the slave races, rarely thought about such things, being more worried about being on time for their shifts and impressing the overseers with their enthusiastic labor. Being late for a work shift carried punishments, especially for the people living in the Slave Quarter. Most factories ran two shifts each day, starting at 6 and 18. Curfew in the Slave Quarter was from 1 to 5. As the gates opened, those with work chits lined up in orderly fashion, showed their papers, and quickly made their way to their assigned employment, ready to relieve their work partner at their shared post. Being late upsets your partner, gets your pay docked, and could eventually cost a person their job.

This explained why many of the people trying to leave this morning were upset.

Normally, the bored morklor guard would say, "Show your chit...good....next. Show your chit...good....next." repeating this for several hundred workers lined up in ten neat lines. Today was different.

"Show your chit and pay your gate fee."

The ratkin in the front of the line started to walk forward, then stopped, upset and hopping from foot to foot. "But, gate fees are paid by master Grimly at Grimly's Fine Acids and Beakers."

The guard grinned. "Not anymore. By decree of the Financial Rebalancing Committee, gate fees are now the responsibility of the worker, not the employer. You'll need to talk to master Grimly about raising your wages or reimbursing you for the costs. Not up to me. Pay your fee of 1 copper or move aside."

"But....I have no copper on me! Payday is next week!"

"Then get the hell out of line, deadbeat, you're slowing shit up." After knocking the upset ratkin to the ground, he shouted loudly at all the others. "That goes for the rest of you miserable slaves. Pay your gate fee or get out of line."

Few ratkin carried money on them. In addition to making them a target, their small earnings were turned over to the elders who ran the colony in the corner of the Slave Quarter, seeing to the needs of everyone. Fearful of losing their jobs, they raced home, begging for a copper coin to pay the unexpected fees, knowing full well they wouldn't be reimbursed for all of it. Deals would be struck that would leave the workers paying more and the factory owners less. The Elders were forced to dig into their emergency funds to cover the costs, and each minute that ticked by might mean a lost job.

At the gate, several dozen grinning morklors got in line, presenting temporary chits that showed they would be looking for jobs today. Each also had the money for their gate fee. The guards collecting the small fees didn't blink an eye. Things changed in Bloth rapidly. Deals were struck, and everything was a transaction. This transaction would give some factories the ability to get rid of underperforming workers who were late, keeping those who worked harder. Most ratkin would keep their jobs. Space was tight in the factories, and two ratkin could be fit in the space taken up by one burly morklor. But some slaves would have their work chits taken from them, and new workers would fill their spots. Business was booming, and production was up. Small vials were out, and large jugs were considered more efficient. There was a need for strong, burly workers, and less for quick-fingered ratkin.

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And the gate guards had been asking for raises. The cost of boots was going up. Some of the gate fees would be kept by each guard, and everyone would adjust to the new system, which might last for a year or a week. The ratkin colony would lose income, but gain more people to work in the sewers. The pay for sewer maintenance was minimal, but the colony could gather all the fertilizer that they could pack out of it. With less income, they would expand the mushroom farms in the old sewers to compensate. Some mushrooms would be sold, but most would be eaten by the colony. It was dangerous work, having to often fight gangs of unevolved cave mantis, mutant rats, and criminals outlawed from the streets of Bloth. With no way to pay the exit fees, the sewers were the last hope for those trapped in the city, but working chits. A few ratkin thrived in the dark tunnels where the old fighting arts of claws and spikey sticks were still practiced, remembered lessons passed down through the generations. Most preferred the more open spaces above, where they didn't have to fight for their lives on a daily basis.

The elders of the colony would scheme for some method to discredit the morklors, or gain an advantage over the other slave races. Regaining their lost income was, of course, essential, but also the reputation of the colony. Bloth favored the strong and ate the weak. They would fight and scheme to push someone else down and regain their position in the Slave Quarter.

Change was a constant elsewhere, on the outskirts of the city, and in all of the other quarters. Next to the Slave Quarter, the Immigrants' Quarter had new regulations. This happened regularly. Bloth didn't want more unskilled workers; they had plenty to do the current job load. The new rules gave preference, as always, to alchemists, mages with elemental affinities, and scribes to keep up with the massive bureaucracy that was needed in the city. Dwarves were given premium status, since it was rare that any dwarf didn't have skills dealing with machinery, mining, and metalworking. A small group of machinists who showed up at the gates was taken out of line, and their entrance fees were paid by a potential employer. Their preferred meals included snacks and strong alcohol, which inclined them to sign a work contract without reading it carefully.

Meanwhile, other entrants were turned away from the city, hopes dashed, but would return the next day to try again. They would join the large camps to the south of the city, where refugees and those hoping to become citizens lived. When the camps became too big, the rulers of Bloth would look the other way as slave traders rode through the camps, collaring anyone they could catch and leading them away for sale elsewhere.

In the Experimental Quarter, the breeding labs were competing for new contracts. Some strove to create dangerous killing machines, part living creature and part mechanical. Warlords and despots the world over sought out the breeds of Bloth for their assassins and bodyguards. Dungeon lords didn't care so much about peak performance, preferring interesting hordes of creatures to fill the empty lairs that adventurers were constantly depopulating. Dungeons could become stale, and new creatures would bring an increase in visitors. Huge cages on wheels would form caravans that wound their way through the Deep Roads to deliver the monsters needed for the dungeons. The rusted cages and gnawed bones on the side of the roads showed they didn't always arrive where they were needed, escaping into the wild.

Acidic Oozes, Cyborg Ogres, and anything to do with gophers were in high demand at the moment. And, surprisingly to everyone, so were pure mechanical automatons. Word had come to Bloth that none other than the City of Gadobhra was using them as assault troops, having ironed out the problems in the charging systems. Old schematics were dusted off, and research began to find out what someone in Gadobhra had discovered. Spies would be dispatched, of course, but there was little hope that anything would be discovered. Gadobhra's reputation ensured that.

The Evolved Quarter had taken the news of the death of Ur-Khemyst 64 very hard. He was a rising star among the evolved races, attaining the title of Ur-Khemyst and an inspiration to all. The rumors were almost too fantastical to be believed. Three fully equipped battle-ready Ur-Khemysts had been challenged to combat by a group of dwarves and a renegade ratkin necromancer, resulting in the deaths of all three Khemysts. Several witnesses had hurried to Bloth to sell their information, reinforcing the news, and the company of dwarven mechanics had grudgingly confirmed the news but claimed they hadn't witnessed it themselves and had been busy packing for a journey. The loss of 64 reduced the bargaining power of the Evolved species, leaving only Ur-Khemyst 129, an evolved mantis, as the only evolved Khemyst. The old mantis was known for surviving the last two hundred years by keeping his head down and not entering into political fights.

And if the death of 64 had shaken the Evolved Quarter, it was far worse in the Noble Houses of the Royal Quarter. The deaths of two Ur-Khemysts at the hands of dwarf mercenaries and a ratkin outlaw had dropped those two houses in the rankings and led to a power grab among the others as the ranking lists resorted themselves. Deaths did occur, but not in such a terribly mundane way, and there were many questions about whether 43 and 27 had truly deserved their ranks. Insults and accusations were leveled, leading to open warfare between five houses. The assassins were released to hunt perfumed nobles in their townhouses, and armed groups of mutated warriors fought in the streets.

The ruling council in the heart of the city let the carnage continue for an entire month before shutting it down. It had amused them and allowed for major testing of some creations under battlefield conditions. The noble houses would rebuild, reshuffle, and continue to train their progeny to take their places among the ruling Khemysts. The students had been safe in their schools, untouched by the small war. Now they would fill gaps in the nobility, except for a few exceptional students who were given numbers. The entire affair only served to reinforce that Bloth was a fair and just city, where death could come for anyone, noble or slave.

And, of course, taxes went up on everyone, as expected.