“Sorry.” His smile made a mockery of his apology.

“Damnit, Dorian, don’t do that again. You are going to give me a heart attack”

I glanced at his half-eaten plate while I drew in a few long breaths. Even if I wasn’t in danger, my heart still hadn’t gotten the memo.

“How long have you been here?” I hadn't heard a hint of him entering.

How focused had I been on this light?

He waved to plate and walked over and pulled a chair to sit down. “Long enough to see you finish the last light. Not kidding. It is pretty impressive for you to channel that well at your level. I’d figured you’d maybe get one light at most. Though, you really were struggling with that last one.”

“Really? You were going to leave me in the dark.”

“I didn’t think it would take so long to get food, but I had to convince the [Stewardess] to let me take an extra plate. Then—“

“You had to grab an ale?”

I rolled my eyes as his sheepish expression. Still, he didn’t let that faze him. “While that may have happened, it was for a good reason. What I was going to say was that I need to talk with a few people from my clan. It took longer than expected.” He pointed to the food again. “Sorry the food isn’t warmer. It will still be a good, but don’t use this as your standard.”

Even having cooled off, the smell wafting up from my plate made my mouth water. I glanced at Dorian’s half-eaten plate. I wouldn’t have waited either. I grabbed my fork to dig into the combination of sautéed vegetables and what looked like a mushroom gravy over a mashed root vegetable mash. My eyes narrowed. I glanced back at Dorian’s plate.

“Where is mine?” I pointed at the bare bone, twice the size of a chicken drumstick—more on the lines of a ham bone, sitting at the edge of his plate.

He snorted. “You looking to have a repeat of this afternoon?”

“How is a bit of protein going to cause that?”

“Where do you think this meat came from? It is fresh, Tier III meat, high tier III at that. You aren’t ready to process it no matter how good you are with channeling at your level.”

So much I didn’t know. Instead of arguing, I filled my mouth with the mash. Complex, rich, flavors exploded on my tongue.

“Good isn’t.” I nodded, though good was an understatement. Heavenly was more appropriate. “Though, you should be warned. It can ruin you. With the levels our [Chef] has, she is better than what you find at most inns. Makes me almost resent returning to safety after an expedition.”

I pointed at a purple vegetable with a shape of a carrot. “What do you call this?”

He chuckled, and then gave me a weird look when he realized I was serious. “A carrot?”

Right. I cut a small round with my fork and popped in my mouth. The bite redefined my expectations for a carrot.

“Was the meat as good as this?”

“Do you really want to know?” I contented myself with cutting another round and mixing it with the mash. He laughed. “Don’t worry. You will get to try it soon.”

"How long?" I mumbled with a full mouth.

"Hard to know. Like I said, you picked up Energy circulation way faster than I thought you would've."

"And by Energy, you mean energy?"

He furrowed his brow, but then something clicked. "Is Common not your mother tongue?"

I nodded slowly.

He snapped his fingers. "Yep. That tracks. Listen carefully and repeat after me: I am working on my Energy circulation."

I gave him a puzzled look, but he just waved for me to continue. "I am working on my ener—"

"Energy. Try again."

"I am working on my Energy... Oh, what the hell!"

He laughed. "Yep, that's the internal translation messing with you. Seen it pop up a few times with the Ættir. You'll get used to it as you better understand the Common tongue." He studied me with new interest before taking a sip of his ale. "Just when I think I have started to figure you out... But as I was saying, I think my expectations were off. This is stuff kids do, and it usually takes them a lot longer to learn."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"And what do people my age do?"

"Not this! At least in my clan, almost everyone your age has broken into Tier II. Some are even well on their way to Tier III."

He leaned forward in expectation, but I ignored his opening. What was I supposed to say? I got warped into a new world via a portal?

As I took another bite, he continued, “if you keep that up, you should be convert small amounts of high-density Aether without the risk of toxicity.” I nodded, savoring the flavors released with each chew. “But seriously, what was the deal with that last light? Did you fatigue yourself? I thought working your channels would be beneficial, but I don’t want you to overdo it. ”

“It wasn’t that. I was just trying to light it without touching it.”

He cocked his head. “Really?” I nodded. “Wow, how bad—“

He cut off, failing to hide his sheepish expression. “Dorian, what were you going to say?”

He held up in his hand in surrender. “I am sorry. I meant nothing by it.”

My eyes narrowed. “By what?”

“Really. I am sorry. It was rude of me to ask.”

Again with the lack of context. “Just say it. You won’t insult or offend me,” and then to try to encourage him, I added, “I’m…used to it.”

“I bet.” He winced again at the unintended insult.“Sorry! I’ve just never met someone with such a low Projection.”

“Really?”

He grimaced. “Well, it can’t be great. I can light a stone from halfway across the room, and I barely cracked Rank II. Even at your level, you should have more range. But don’t worry. Projection isn’t everything. If your other Potentials are adequate, you will have lots of good options. Not everyone can be [Healer] or [Mage], right?” I frowned. “You don’t want to be one of those, right?” My frowned deepened. “I know you’re a Mind class, but you’re not trying for one of those classes, right?”

“Not exaaactly.”

“What are—“ He looked away, biting of his question. A mild tinge of red color his bronze skin.

How taboo was asking this information?

“Dorian, just ask me. I really won’t be offended. If we are going to work together, you should know more about me. At my current…tier, I know that I am a liability. ”

“That’s not fair.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Really?”

“You sure?” I nodded. “You aren’t just saying that because of the situation? Most people don’t share their classes, their levels, and especially their Potentials except with those they trust.”

Classes and skills and…Potentials? This was shaping up to be eerily similar to games I played in high school and college. Too similar. What were the odds? Probably not much different than being magically flung into a new world. It would provide a handy explanation for the superhuman abilities I had seen so far. With that framework in mind, classes and skills would be self-explanatory. Whether skills begot a class or a class begot skills or some mix, I would have to figure out. But Potentials? I had to assume they were some type of attributes or, if I went with the game analogy, stats—major ones at that based on what Dorian’s allusions and reticence.

None of this boded well for me. Levels probably equated to power. I was at level 1 and likely had a one terrible Potential. I needed allies. While giving away my capabilities could be dangerous, I had only one skill, and somehow—likely this tattoo, or rather Mark, on my face—let everyone know I was a cognitive class. I needed answers, and for that, I needed a friend. I would have to start trusting someone, and Dorian seemed a reasonable person to gamble on.

“If it wasn’t obvious, I am not from around here.” While he didn’t interrupt, he gave me a no-duh look, which I promptly ignored. “Where I am from, we have different…customs. Regardless, I would hope to consider you a friend, but if it makes you feel more comfortable, we can talk primarily about my class and levels.”

After my comment, I could actually see the tension melt from him. “Yes, let’s skip Potentials. I am not sure I would be able to reciprocate the gesture, but we can at least share our level and class. Potentials don’t really—well, typically—matter at your level.”

“Okay.”

He smiled, his natural eagerness returning. “Do you want to make a game of it?”

“A game? You sounded pretty sure that you knew my level.”

“More like a good guess. It would be good to know for sure.”

I leaned in and rested my chin on my hand. “Oh really? Does this game involve a wager?”

Seeing my interest, his eyes gleamed with excitement. “It wouldn’t be much of a game without one.”

I laughed. “Okay. I am game, but I don’t have anything to bet.”

“Oh, but you will.” He pointed to bone picked clean on his plate. “If I win, I get your first serving of meat when you are ready for it. If you win, you can have mine. Well, as much as you can handle.”

“Well, if I can’t have your whole portion, then I want to be able to pester you with questions without complaints.”

He laughed. “That sounds fine. Then how about this? I win if I can guess the archetype of your class and your level within one.”

“That seems fair.”

When he reached out his hand, and I shook it. As we let go, a predatory smile crossed over his face. “I feel like I am about to say goodbye to my first bit of meat.” He gave me an innocent, yet insincere, shrug. I just shook my head. It really didn’t matter to me. As delectable as meat may be, as long as I could get him to explain more about this world, it would be worth it. “I probably should have asked this before shaking, but is this type of game played often?”

“It sure is.”

“But you just said these things are private. How do you know—“

“This info is shared amongst the clan just not—“

“Humans?”

“Outsiders. Even Oresiani from outside the clan are kept in the dark. As for those in the clan, we don’t talk skills and Potentials. It is a bit personal, but the game is encouraged. Knowing a person’s class lets you guess their skills, which can be make or break in business deals or battles.” He rubbed his hands. “This is exciting. I forgot how much I enjoyed this challenge. It has been too long.”

“How long?”

“About a year, but the frequency died down as compared the first two to three years after my Ascension. Leveling in Tier I is easy, but afterwards it starts to slow. Still, my friends and I were leveling enough to have significant changes. Those younger than us didn’t want to give us too much information about themselves.

“How old were you when you Awakened?”

“Let’s see. A little after fourteen.” He snorted. “Wow, has already been four years?” He shook away the thought. Clapped his hands, and then rubbed them together. “Enough reminiscing, I have a bet to win.”