Zachary Scott
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Chapter 11 - Which Class to Choose?
🕑 Added 2024-06-13 14:39:17 +0000 UTCMattias and some of his other friends had been playing Vice in the common room, so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to sneak in a game or two. Besides, my stomach had been so empty it felt like it was about to collapse in on itself like a dying star.
Playing the game had allowed me to sit and fill my stomach with a plate of steaming hot food—a single oversized meatball covered in a dark red sauce. My giant meatball had come with a cup of some kind of spiced drink that was a little gross, but not terrible.
Lyria was in a slightly improved mood on our brief walk to the adventurer’s guild. I thought maybe she was starting to come around.
She paused outside the guild. “You realize you left those weird little children’s clothes all over the floor in my room, don’t you? They smelled absolutely terrible. And why did you even—”
I pulled open the door to the guild and my jaw dropped.
“Hold that thought,” I said, holding up a hand as I took in the sight. Deep inside me, a boy who grew up playing RPGs squealed. “Because this is amazing.”
“What?” Lyria gestured around the room. “Riverwell is hardly a major town. This is just an outpost-style guild.”
Outpost-style or not, the people inside were so obviously dressed and equipped for combat that I was fascinated. I really wished I had my helmet on to inspect them, but Lyria’s warning about it getting me killed or mugged was still in the back of my mind.
Even without the helmet, I noticed more badges, like the one Jarn had worn. Lyria had a wooden badge pinned to her shoulder, too. Most adventurers in the guild wore wooden badges, but there were one or two wearing iron. Some were more embellished with little borders or wings, too.
Everyone seemed to cluster together in parties of three to five, with only one or two apparent lone wolves. There were huge, muscular people with martial weapons, lean and athletic people with ranged weapons or smaller daggers and knives strapped to their bodies, and even several with staffs, wands, and a few weapons I didn’t recognize.
The atmosphere was serious, but productive and focused. I saw people pulling posters from the wall and taking them to their tables, reading and scanning the contents, or marking maps with ink quills. One woman was handing a bag of something that looked wet with blood to a girl behind the counter, who went into a back room and returned with several clinking bags of what I assumed were coins.
“You’re sure you want to sign up?” Lyria asked.
“This will get me a class corestone, right?”
She nodded.
“Then I’m sure.” I walked to the counter where the woman with the bloody bag had just collected her payment. The girl behind the counter had a poof of wild curls and oversized front teeth, but she smiled cheerily as I approached. She wore a dark green skirt with a decorative golden square of fabric folded down at the waist.
“Hi, there. I’m Missy, the Certified Adventurer’s Consultant for the Fifth Ring Frontier. I notice you’re not wearing a badge. Did you come to get one?”
“How much do they cost?” I asked.
She laughed, eyes turning to amused slits. “Just a few seconds of your time, silly.” She dug under the counter and pulled out a giant magnifying glass. It looked old and weathered, but she held it up and aimed it my way. I watched the enlarged view of her eye through the glass as she blinked a few times, then nodded.
“Wood rank! Easy enough.” She dug around in a bin and pulled out a badge like Lyria's. A pin on the back let me easily slip it into the fabric of my robe.
“Thanks. What happens if I lose this, by the way?”
“Then you come back and ask for another!” She was smiling brightly. “If you earn embellishments, you’ll want to keep track of it, though. There’s a small fee to replace those.”
“Maybe this is a strange question,” I said, leaning closer. “Is it kind of a bad idea to wear this? Aren’t I advertising that I’m weak?”
“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Missy said. “You’re advertising your work for the guild. Bottom rank or not, it means anybody who troubles you is troubling the guild, and there’s worth in that if you ask me.”
“I see,” I said thoughtfully. I wasn’t completely convinced, but I figured it’d be easy enough to tug the badge off when I wasn’t in town.
“I also wanted to ask about signing up.” I hooked my thumb toward Lyria. “My grumpy babysitter mentioned something about a contract.”
Missy looked between us, still smiling. “Your grumpy babysitter knows her stuff. Let me just…” she dug under her desk again and flopped down a thick stack of papers.
I raised an eyebrow. “That looks pretty complex. Does it really need to be that big?”
“It’s just a bunch of technicalities,” Missy said, waving my question off. “There’s nothing to be concerned about. Basically, you complete two guild commissions per year, and we’re all meatballs and gravy. So long as you never come up short, this contract doesn’t mean a thing!”
What is it with this town and meatballs?
“I see,” I said. “And what happens if I eventually decide to retire?”
“After five years, you’re free to retire so long as you provide written notice to the First Ring Core Guild Offices. Lord Veritus himself can excuse any eligible adventurer from further service.”
“And if I sign up, I’ll get a class corestone? Do I get to choose it?”
“Of course. You can look at them right here before you sign if you like.” Missy pulled out a wooden box from beneath the counter. I heard heavy objects like glass paperweights rolling around and clinking together inside. She set it on the counter, letting me lean over and look.
The box contained a collection of palm-sized, heavy orbs. They varied in color and had a symbol engraved on them. I lifted one, running my fingertip over an engraved sword. It was dark red in color. Another was a deep blue with a shield symbol. There was a green one with some kind of geometric pattern, and a yellow one with an anatomically correct heart.
Lyria took a red Sword stone from the box and jerked her head for me to follow her down the counter toward a small, golden stand with three prongs.
“Take your time!” Missy said, watching us go. “Holler if you need something.” She wandered to the other edge of the counter, where a bleeding and sweating man was holding a traumatized woman by the arm. Missy looked them up and down, asked the woman her name, and smiled. She retrieved a bag of coins and handed it to the man, who let the woman go as soon as he had his money.
“How am I supposed to know what these do?” I asked.
“Like this,” Lyria said. She set the stone on the three prongs, and a flickering text display appeared. “We call it a readout.”
“Woah,” I said, waving my hand through the words floating in the air. It was like a lower-quality version of what my helmet showed me. The text was flickering and dim, almost like a poor hologram. “Do these things work on other kinds of items?”
“You can see this kind of readout in your personal space on anything you like. Devices like this are expensive, but you can usually find something similar in most shops. It’s the same concept as the items I told you about for checking people’s level. But this lets you get a real good look at what you’re buying before you hand over the money.”
I checked the text above the corestone.
[Sword Corestone (Common)] A philosophy focused on inflicting damage.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not very descriptive. Would I be able to read more if I was in my personal space?”
“No,” Lyria said. “It has to tether to your mana before you’ll see what form it takes. It’s different for everybody.”
“Think of them like seeds,” a deep woman’s voice said, startling both of us.
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Comments
Ben Bass
TYFTC! Ain’t nothing wrong with meatballs, they can be any type of meat, go with many different sauces/gravies and can keep you warm and full. I see our MC is now just wearing the robe and does NOT have the tomte rags on, which really sounds like newbie armor if you ask me. The readout from the holder really shows how powerful his gold level helm is, which then tells me his alchemy workshop is a bit more useful/versatile/powerful than he realizes.
Tim Judge
Meatballs eh...is someone a pastafarian?
