Classes, jobs and experience. The three pillars of our world they dictate who wins and who losses, your station in life, whether you’re a king or a peasant, figuratively of course. Since the revolt people are no longer segregated based on their birth class treated as lesser beings by those above. Of course some there are some nobles and religious zealots that still believe in the old regime. However, the council runs a tight ship and nips that in the butt here in Zion I wish I say it’s the same in other countries.

Here were free to be what we want to be regardless of our birth classes, nowadays farmers can be great generals leading troops into glorious battles, humble maids can become great sorceresses and heroes can be a chef if they please. Sure there are perks to going with the same job as your class, for one you don’t have to waste time leveling your job separately, people that do that usually progress at astounding compared to people that don’t. However, that doesn’t mean people that don’t fall behind they get access to a more diverse set of skills. Imagine it in the heat of battle imagine a soldier who’s been cornered by a group of spearmen, suddenly throwing a huge fireball utterly decimating his enemies or a farmer with the druid class being able to grow an entire field of crops overnight.

The door in the corner of my room slowly slivers open creaking ever so slightly allowing the glow of a small a hand candle to shine through, illuminating the wooden planks making up my floor creating a beautiful contrast to the soft moonlight shining through my window,  gently lighting my simple room.

I looked over at the now open door to see my mum standing in the opening draped in her warn blue nightgown with a miffed expression etched on her slightly aging face. In a less than impressed tone she asks, “Why you are still awake Joseph?”  I’m my confusion the only thing I could articulate was a simple, “eh?” it’s like she doesn’t realise what day it is tomorrow but her and pa have been going on about it nonstop for the past month almost crying about how their little boy is going to leave them, find a wife, move to the other side of the world and never see them again after tomorrow. Despite what I tell them but I guess it’s understandable, it’s not every day your kid gets his class.

“How can I fall asleep, you do remember what day it is tomorrow right?” I questioned. Trying to act nonchalantly she says “yeah, it’s Friday?” my face drops in an instant, sure I know she joking but for a split second I believed that she actually forgot. Noticing the change in my expression she bursts out laughing. “HA HA HA, I can’t believe you actually thought I’d forget.”  Feeling he blood rushing to my cheeks I manage to sputter out a small chuckle of my own, “ha ha ha, I’m really excited!”

With a gentle motherly smile on her face she says, “I know dear just don’t be disappointed if you don’t get a class you want, well still love you no matter what class you get.”  “I know, but what if I’m a warrior or a mage or even a hero!” my excitement reached a climax as I said the final word. “Even if I am a farmer I could find a druid or an apothecary to train under, this isn’t the old days I don’t have to just be a farmer,” I said confidently. Sighing in resignation she says, “well whatever you do, you’ll be great now go to sleep big day tomorrow.” She gently kisses me on the forehead and leaves the room.

Before I knew it it was already morning, I don’t know when I fell asleep but It mustn’t have been too long ago because I feel really tired but my inner excitement won’t allow me to go back to sleep. In a rush, I grab the closest close to my bed ignoring which ones I chose and rushed down the stairs to the sight of my mother cooking breakfast and the table set for the three of us. ”Morning mum, where’s dad?” Without looking back from the pot of stew she’s placing cut vegetables into she says, “He's feeding the animals, go give him a hand breakfast will be ready for you when you get back.” Leaving through the back door I run to the barn where keep the animals.

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Entering I see my dad placing the slop in the boar pens, raising my heals off the ground I slowly sneak up behind him using the soft hay scattered across the ground to cushioning my steps I slowly approach my target, extending my middle and index fingers on each hand like makeshift knifes I poke him on both sides in the ribs. Jumping I shock he turns around and ruffles my hair and says, “You little scamp it wouldn’t surprise me if you turned out to be an assassin.” After my laughing calmed down I told him, “Mum told me to help you feed the animals.” Stroking his rough chin as though pondering life itself he says, “I’m pretty much done, you can feed the horned horses, be careful of the boys, its mating season and they’re getting a bit rowdy.”

I pick up a heavy bucket of horse food and make my way towards the horses in the field with unsteady steps being extra careful not to drop any of the food. I started by feeding the females and the young because they were the easier ones some of them even come up to me and chew my clothes and rub up against me playfully. Once finished I make my way towards the males albeit a little nervous last year one of the more boisterous ones almost impaled me.

Slinking into the other field where the males are, I’m greeted by a mad dash from all angles, all I can hear are loud thumping noises I can’t tell which is louder my heart or the horde of beasts charging at me, holding the bucket of feed close to my chest tightly as the beasts get closer and closer, cold sweet begins to poor down my back as gruesome images of me being impaled quickly flash in my mind flood my mind, no matter how many times this happens it still scares the hell out of me, good job dad taught me what to do. I quickly place my fingers in my mouth and whistle then I place one hand up in the air and the other out in front of my palm extended in front of me and wait.

Coming to a holt all of the horses skid along the ground for a couple of meter kicking up clumps of dirt as the stop about an arm’s length away from me letting out a small sigh, I get back to work and put their food in the mini troths hanging from fences surrounding the field. A couple of the younger ones found it funny to prick me back side which was annoying good job horned horses are smarter than regular horses and know only to do it lightly.

The rest of the morning was pretty uneventful, we ate breakfast and prepared the cart for the journey to town, on the way there we passed the stream me and Baxter used to play in when we were younger and a whole bunch untouched fields that stretched into eternity, the only thing that broke the river of  fields was the Zawa mountain range that separates Zion from Brox, I asked my parents about it once and apparently the whole mountain was actually the home of a rock dragon I don’t believe them, when I was younger I did but now I know it’s just a tale to keep kids from climbing it. Although there are countless stories of countless Zionians and Broxians alike attempting to cross the mountain either going missing or returning in sorry states.

As we approach the town gate we come across a lengthy line of similar carts housing other family’s queueing up in front of the large Iron Gate, connected to slabs of large yellow stones stacked magnificently into a beautiful but intimidating wall topped with a few guards patrolling along the top and guarding the gate. Upon seeing them my dad puffed out his chest and said proudly, “When I was your age and got my class I was a guard myself,” nostalgia glistening in his eyes he continued, “I remember one time at a group of bandits attacked the city I was stationed in your mother was almost killed, but I thanks the protector perk I heroically defended your mother.” Blushing like a school girl my mum chimes in, “Thankfully I was a nurse at the time and nursed you father back to health.” Sharing a look with my dad and smiling she says, “And the rest was history.”

Confused I ask, “why are you farmers now?” the shared a look again but this time it wasn’t nearly as warm, silence lingered for a good couple of seconds before my dad stated, “after the revolt me and your mother were sick of all the fighting and bloodshed and decided we wanted to start a family.” Chiming in my mum says gently, “and that’s when you come in.”  I appreciated what my parents said, after all, I wouldn’t exist if they didn’t retire to the countryside, but the revolt happened many years before I was born and my parents would have barely been 20 at the time, but I chose not to ruin the moment.

Now at the front of the queue, my heart beats faster and faster just knowing that in a couple of hours ill have a class of my own and I can finally begin my adventure. I just wish this guard would be a little quicker checking our cart.