Chương 2: A Deal Struck

I heard old man Ebbin's question, but I had already committed to eating the first bite of the stew. I put it in my mouth… and promptly spat it back out onto the table.

"The hell is that?" I asked, even the remnants of the lingering stew serving as an offense to my tongue and palate. The old man scratched his chin. The skin around his knuckles was cracked and dark with soil, and his nails looked as if the dirt had become a permanent part of him.

"It's just a simple beet stew with some boiled rabbit. Have you always been this… particular?" I wiped my tongue on my sleeve. The stew was properly soft, the meat tender, but it held little, if any, spice of any kind. Not even salt. The gaminess of the rabbit overpowered even the earthy flavor of the beet, which tasted like little more than mud. The texture was thick and grainy, clinging to my tongue. Steam rose from the bowl, carrying a smell that was less dinner and more that of a damp cellar.

How could the man eat that vile concoction?

"Wa… ter…" I said, my throat dry. The old man groaned as he stood, his back clearly causing him aches. His chair scraped across the wooden floor, and the sound filled the small room. He took a pitcher from a shelf near the hearth, poured it into a wooden cup, and handed it over to me. I drank. Clearly, it had come from the river, yet it had sat stagnant, picking up the slight taste of wood. It was also warm, a stark contrast to the creek water I'd had earlier. Still, it served its purpose.

I swallowed it down in greedy gulps, letting it wash the taste of under-seasoned rabbit and beet-dirt from my mouth. I pushed the bowl aside for now.

"I have some questions, if you don't mind." The man slowly sat back in his chair, proffering a hand forward as if to say, go ahead.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"I've already told you; we're in Bramblewick."

"And where is Bramblewick? You have a bit of an accent. Is this somewhere in the country?"

"Aye, it's in the country. Kingdom, more like it. You're in the Kingdom of Karnoss. One of seven." He held up six fingers.

"This kingdom is named after the God of Vitality, Karnoss the Evershield."

"Kingdom?" I replied.

"God?" It was an overwhelming amount of information, but just before I thought it couldn't get any worse, the old man started rambling.

"Then there is Varganth, Seleris, Orwynn, Mentharis—" I held up a hand.

"That's enough," I said.

"I mean… Karnoss is enough for now." Ebbin nodded.

"Aye." He took a bite of stew from his own bowl. He chewed it, swallowed, and smiled. The spoon clacked lightly against the rim as he set it down.

"Nothin' wrong with the stew, lad."

"Only the lack of flavor," I replied under my breath. Outside, Madam Moolisa mooed somewhere near the window, low and mournful. A fly buzzed against the glass, tapping again and again as if it too had questions about its place in this world.

"Alright, another question then… you asked about my class and whether I was an aspirant. What do you mean?" The man's eyes lit up.

"Ah, the System," he said.

"The System?" He nodded.

"Our connection to the gods. We do not worship the system itself, but it bridges the gap between mortals and gods, allowing us a portion of their power for the tasks we perform in their honor. Those tasks have become known as classes."

"And these classes… how do you get one?" The old man took another bite as he explained, while chewing.

"The System chooses a class for you when it is deemed appropriate." I pondered for a moment.

"And does that mean that an aspirant is just someone who hasn't been appointed a class yet?" The old man nodded.

"So if the system chooses, what would one have to do for it to choose?" Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

"Now hold yer horses there, lad. We still don't know if you already have a class. You see, there are three grades of classes, well four, but… let's just stick to three, eh? Common, Uncommon, and Rare. Simple enough. Common classes can only learn common skills and earn one stat point per level, in addition to randomly assorted ones based on the class itself. Uncommon gain two, and earn more per level. And as it goes, Rare gets you three, and even more assigned.

Obviously, having a rare class puts you at a massive advantage against Uncommon, and Uncommon against Common. One can grow one step up from their initial class—well, I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm sorry, I haven't had to explain this since my own children came of age." He spoke with the easy patience of someone reciting knowledge worn smooth by years. The firelight caught in the wrinkles around his eyes and made them look deeper than they had before.

"Of age?" I asked.

"Is there an age requirement?"

"Well… no, not exactly. One has until they are twenty years old to be assigned a class or…" I sensed a shift in the air's tone. Even the cottage seemed to quiet down around it. The fire crackled lower, and the room's shadows pressed a little closer.

"... Or?" I dared ask.

"Do you really want to talk about such horrible things before we find out if you've a class or not?"

"How do I find out?" Ebbin smiled and flicked his nose.

"You simply ask the system." I cleared my throat. Feeling silly, I said, "Oh System… Can you show me my class?"

"You don't ask out loud; you think it. It's sort of like… a prayer." I was never the religious type, but, doing as the old man said, I reached out to the system in my mind. Then, suddenly, a bright screen appeared in front of me. I jumped up and nearly tripped over my chair. The chair legs scraped hard against the floorboards, and my knee caught the underside of the table. The bowl rattled. A thin line of stew sloshed over the rim and crept across the wood like red-brown mud.

"There ya' go," the old man said.

"Can you see this?" I asked. Ebbin shook his head from side to side.

"Only if you choose to share it can others see it. But you can just look for yourself and tell me." I stared at the screen. It hung in the air like a pane of blue-white glass, too bright for the dim cottage, yet somehow not casting light the way it should have. The edges shimmered faintly. Words stood sharp and clean across it, clearer than ink, and clearer than any phone screen I had ever seen.

System Welcome to the System: Name: Rook Surname: Error Place of Birth: Error Time of Birth: Error Class: Aspirant Stats: Stats are hidden from aspirants With that, the screen disappeared.

"What the hell was that?" I asked.

"I told you… the system."

"Yeah, but it was just like… there! Where does it come from?" The old man shrugged.

"We don't know. Some think it's something within us, and others think it is a gift from the gods. But if you ask others, they'll argue it's more like a curse than a blessing. So… do you have a class?"

"Aspirant," I replied.

"Just like you thought." Ebbin smiled from ear to ear, as if an unwanted fate had been avoided.

"That is… good to hear. Listen, since you're an aspirant, and you don't remember much of the world… Perhaps we could make a deal." He leaned back slightly, and the old chair complained beneath him. Through the small window behind him, I could see the edge of his field, the crooked fence posts, the shifting grass, and Madam Moolisa's broad shape moving slowly past.

"My body isn't what it once was," he explained.

"I'm old and getting older. I've a common class… Farmer. None of my four sons had acquired the same class as me; quite rare for that to happen. Two were uncommon, and two were common. My wife, may her soul rest in Karnoss' eternal fields, died two years ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I replied genuinely.

"But I don't know what that has to do with me."

"As I've said, I'm old. I can't do the things I used to do. I need to get out to market to sell my wares, yet I also need to tend the fields and the animals and cook and clean… even now, talking to you, I've likely set myself back at least two days. My time is coming… I can feel it in my bones, yet it is not here yet. And you, being an aspirant, can work for me. Help me with chores. I'm fair. I'll give you a small allowance and allow you to sleep in the house.

You don't remember much, but let me tell you that it is a good deal. You stay here until you either earn your class or I finally succumb to age. After the farm will go to one of my sons to sell off and split the coin between them. Sorry, that is a done deal and I cannot offer you more than what's on the table." The words settled between us with the smell of smoke and beet stew. Outside, the farm carried on without concern. Chickens scratched in the yard. The cowbell clunked softly.

Wind moved over the fields and brushed against the cottage walls. He held out an earnest, shaking hand.

"Do we have a deal?" I stared at him and saw hope in his eyes where there was none before. I reached out and shook, not entirely sure what had come over me.

"Deal… for now," I said.

"I don't know how long I will stay, but as long as I am, I will help you. But one more thing, in exchange… Can you teach me more about this world?" Ebbin smiled and nodded.