Chương 3: A Timeskip Already?

Two Years Later"Hey, Grandmama Honeywell… I've got your order of tubers."

"Thank you, Rook," the old dwarven woman said, pulling me down to her level so she could kiss me on the cheek.

"Have you found your calling yet?" I smiled sadly.

"Not yet… still just an aspirant."

"Don't you worry, young one. You'll find your calling soon. I can sense it in the eldara." Dwarves… they called classes "callings" and always referred to the earth as if it were a sentient being. It was just one of many various races I'd come to know over the past two years. Two whole years… I'd been there for two whole years. Grandmama Honeywell's cottage sat low into the hillside, its rounded stone walls half-covered in moss and trailing yellow flowers.

The roof was thick with packed soil and little green sprouts. The air around it smelled of damp earth, baked roots, and the faint mineral tang that always seemed to cling to dwarven homes. I collected the small bag of coins from Grandmama Honeywell, and I heard a small chime at the edge of my senses. Off in the corner of my eye, I could see the system registering my newfound "wealth." Fourteen copper coins were added, bringing my total to thirty-two. No silver to speak of. And especially no gold.

Honeywell had been my last delivery of the day, and the sun was just beginning to set in the east… another change in the way this world worked. Eldara, the people had called this earth. As for languages… Most spoke Common, but I heard it in English. I couldn't help but wonder if that was the system's doing. People with the adventurer class could learn the various languages as skills, which helped them level up overall.

Pretty handy, the rest of us gained nothing at all, but I still tried to learn words where I could. As for aspirants… we could not level at all, as we had no skills and no purpose other than to try to find what the system deemed us worthy of. And in those two years, I'd not made any headway at all. I walked down the main thoroughfare as the evening settled over Bramblewick.

The road was hard-packed dirt, rutted by cart wheels and scattered with straw, old leaves, and the occasional bit of horse manure that no one had bothered to move yet. Shop shutters were beginning to close. Lanterns were being lit one by one, their soft yellow light fighting back the dusk. That was when I saw a familiar sight. Beggars, holding out hands and looking for loose coin. They were classless. Classless, I'd come to find, were little more than dirt in Eldara.

Some kingdoms allowed the classless to be made slaves. Others ostracized them. In some parts of the world… they were killed. Said to be rejected by the system, and thus by the gods themselves. Not worthy to even breathe the same air. I had learned that there were two ways a person became classless. The first was rejecting a class outright.

If someone went a year without earning a single point of EXP in their class, then the system considered it rejected, and the person lost it, along with the ability to use the system and skills. The second way was if the system never chose a class at all. Someone had until they were twenty years old, and past that… they became classless. A fate often resulting in death. When someone abandons their path, there was still a choice made…

but to have such a fate thrust upon you, it was unbearable for some, and so they chose to end it all. And I had no idea where I fit into it all. Already, the system showed errors for me. What if, being from another world entirely, the system rejected me outright? Would I just be one of the classless? An outcast? Worse? I tried not to think about it as I walked, but a woman holding a child caught my eye.

She sat near the side of the road, half in the shadow of a closed stall, her cloak pulled tight around her shoulders despite the summer warmth. I could see old scars on her face and hands. She had been abused. That was another reason people chose to become classless—an untenable situation. I leaned down and put a single copper into her hand. At the very least, she could feed her child. It was all I could do for her. Now it was time to pick up supplies.

I made my way toward the Copperbell's shop and pushed the swinging door inward, walking inside. A little bell above the door chimed as I entered, bright and delicate against the creak of old hinges. Lina was just starting to light some lanterns, hanging them on hooks by the door and behind the counter. Their glow filled the shop in warm patches, catching on glass jars, stacked tins, folded cloth, and polished little measuring weights. Her light-brown hair caught the light in a peculiar way, making it look ashen.

"You're late," she said, her green eyes drilling into me.

"Got caught up talking to Grandmama Honeywell." Lina laughed softly.

"That'll do it. The old dwarven women will talk your ear off if you let her. And don't get her started about Eldara." She went silent and then snapped her fingers together.

"Let me guess, she's pestering you about 'your calling' again, right?" I nodded.

"That easy to tell, eh?"

"She has a point… maybe you should head out and try to do something else. You've given farming and mercantile two years now… you're no green thumb, and let's be honest, you're a terrible merchant." I grumbled.

"Well, not all of us have had the benefit of having a class since we were twelve years old." I conveniently left out that I hadn't even been in this world when I was twelve… not that she or anyone else would believe me. Lina waved her hand.

"Excuses. But seriously, you don't want to be like them. The classless. Dirty, low-life scum—""Stop it," I said.

"Oh, that's right… you've a soft spot for them. It's sort of cute… in an annoying way." You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"I just don't think they are all bad people, is all."

"And you probably don't because you don't have a class yet. Tick Tock—the system waits for no man. Go out and discover what else you can do before it's too late. I'd hate for you to become one of the… just listen to what I'm saying, alright?"

"Yeah, alright," I said.

"Do you have what Ebbin ordered?"

"Yeah, in the back," she replied.

"And you may as well call that man your father. Or your uncle, at least. Took you in. Fed you. Clothed you. Do you really not remember where you came from?"

"Not a clue," I lied. She shrugged.

"Well, maybe it's for the better." She stepped into the back room. I took the opportunity to browse their spice section. My mouth watered. Spices. Glorious flavor. They sat in little jars and paper packets along the shelf like treasure. Salt rocks, cloudy white and sharp-edged. Peppercorns dark as beads. Heat from dried peppers, twisted and red, hanging in bundles near the wall. Mushrooms for umami, shriveled and dark in a clay bowl. Reduced ground citrus in a sealed jar, bright yellow powder clinging to the glass.

Anything one could ask for… well, anything one could ask for within reason. A part of me wanted to reach out and take some. Just a rock of salt would do. Spices were expensive. Very expensive. Seen as delicacies in and of themselves. She wouldn't notice if I just…

"What are you doing?" Lina asked, slamming Ebbin's supplies on the wooden counter. The thud made a few jars rattle on the shelf.

"Nothing," I replied, pulling my hand back. Lina eyed me dangerously.

"It seems to me that you were thinking about stealing that salt rock. Pupils dilated. Sweating when you weren't before. Evasive. Short." She was walking toward me as she said all of this, each step slow and deliberate on the plank floor.

"You know, I've a fourteen in WIS, and I am quite perceptive. So I'll ask again… were you about to steal that?"

"I… no—but I wanted to." I held my head low.

"I just… wanted to know what it would taste like." Once again, I left out that I knew exactly what it tasted like… like heaven itself. Lina laughed.

"Ha, caught ya'." She slapped me on the back.

"Come on now, don't worry about it. We've all been tempted to do something bad before, eh? Now go on, get your stuff and head out." Shrugging, I grabbed my stuff and pushed the door open.

"Oh, and Rook," Lina called. I turned to face her.

"If I ever catch you stealing something, I'll cut your fucking balls off. K?" I swallowed hard.

"K." I walked briskly back home… or what I had now considered my home. Night had settled over Bramblewick by then. The sky above the village was deep and clear, the moon high above, with more stars than I could count in a lifetime. Luckily, the roads were lit by lanterns tended by lamplighters. The small flames swayed behind glass, casting pools of gold over the dirt road and leaving everything between them soft and shadowed. Ours was a man named Tobin, and that was his class.

While I found the idea quite boring, he apparently had taken great satisfaction when he had received his class, despite it being common. He took it as seriously as anyone I'd ever seen take to a job. And really, it made sense. Light was life… and thus the one who granted and cared for it was an honored position. Ebbin was sitting outside in his wooden rocking chair, the pinnacle of what I imagined an old man to be. The chair creaked softly beneath him, keeping time with the insects singing in the fields.

Fireflies blinked near the fence posts. Beyond the yard, the dark shapes of the fields stretched toward the hills. Ebbin whisked me inside, and I set the supplies down near the entrance, kicking off my boots.

"Come now, I've made your favorite, Hearth-Silver Trout." Hearth-Silver Trout… I'd seen the recipe before. Said it was one of his wife's old favorites. However, the man simply did not understand that when a recipe called for various spices, that was not optional. It was to either enhance or subdue a flavor profile. I enjoyed Hearth-Silver Trout the most simply because it was a simple recipe that needed little spice to begin with, and thus was most palatable when… incomplete.

Ebbin set the trout down in front of me, head still attached. The man also had no sense of presentation. The nose eats first. Then the eyes. There was an art to it that he did not understand, and yet he refused to even let me have a go at it. Said that his wife would never allow a guest to cook, and he shan't either. It didn't matter to him that I had been living there for years… I was still his guest. Just one who did chores and went on errands.

Steam rose from the trout's silvered skin, carrying the smell of river fish, hearth smoke, and melted butter. The scales had crisped in places, and the flesh near the belly flaked apart where it had split from the heat. It was nearly good. That was the tragic part. Nearly. We ate in relative silence. These days, there was far less to talk about. Ebbin was a good man, but not very world-traveled. His class was farmer, and so farmer he remained, never leaving his cozy home of Bramblewick. Would I stay here as well?

Not here, I mean, but in Bramblewick. Perhaps Lina would agree to marry me? Sure, I was thirty in my old world, but she was still in her mid-twenties. I'd feel bad about lying to her, but… I put the thought out of my mind. While I didn't mind most of Lina's tendencies, I hardly thought we'd make a good match, and likely she wouldn't care much for me, still being an aspirant and all. But she had suggested that I leave. Branch out. Try to find what I was meant to do. Perhaps it wasn't too bad an idea.

Staring over at Ebbin, the man who had taken me in, killed such thoughts dead in their tracks. He was old and getting older. I think we both knew that his time was limited. Yet, in a way, so was mine. I figured I was about sixteen, but that was more of an educated guess. I didn't actually know how old I was. I dreaded waking up and seeing classless listed instead of aspirant. But I dreaded leaving Ebbin more. And on que, Ebbin started to cough. A harsh, bitter cough. One full of the regrets of a hard life.

Well, that… and blood. It rattled through his chest and bent him forward over the table, his hand bracing against the wood as the candle flame trembled between us. I rushed to the supplies and took out an odorless green leaf with a silvery edge. I handed it to him.

"Here," I said.

"Take it." Ebbin pushed it away.

"No… I'll—" He coughed again.

"Be alright." And so we remained by the hearth and the fire for a time. Ebbin had fallen asleep in his chair in what would be considered the living quarters. The fire burned low, turning the room amber and shadowed. Outside, the night insects sang in waves, and the occasional low sound of Madam Moolisa carried from the barn. Carefully, I stepped upstairs and went to my room. I opened the door. I had nothing more than a simple bed and a simple stand. The walls were bare. The floorboards were uneven.

Moonlight slipped through the small window and painted the room in pale lines. Yet I made do. It was in these times at night, when I was alone, that I truly missed things like the internet. The ability to reach out and communicate with anyone, anywhere. I chuckled to myself at how these people would react to such technology. I laid my head down. Life was hard in this world, but it was not without its charm. It wasn't long before I fell asleep…

and it wasn't long after that I woke to the sound of scuffling out in the dark.