Sunrise… no, still not right. Morning comes, and my body still aches. But it doesn’t hurt. It feels like I got in a pretty huge workout, and that’s a feeling I’m well accustomed to. I stretch and relax in the comfortable sheets, wondering how long Sir Vasily will let me stay in the sprawling manor before kicking me out. But then again, the place is huge. Gargantuan. What does it matter to him how long I stay?

Wrapped up in the soft sheets, the one thing I miss from back home is music. There are few things I enjoy more than waiting to start the day, warm and relaxed, with some music playing from my phone and sunlight streaming in from the window to the left of my bed. Unless I hire a band, that isn’t going to happen… I yawn, pop the knuckles on both hands, and then get up and head for the bathroom. At some point I’m going to need to figure out a better solution to toothpaste than the soap improvisation I’ve settled for.

Once I’m cleaned up, I make my way downstairs and aim for the kitchen, but a handful of servants stop me before I can get some food. I recognize the one who helped me out when I first arrived. Her eyes are huge like she’s just seen a ghost.

“I… I can’t believe…” She swallows hard, and her eyes never venture up from the floorboards to meet mine. “I can’t believe you really did it.”

“What? You mean kill the rhino?” I know slaying the creature is considered some kind of extraordinary feat around Inktown, but I didn’t expect such a powerful reaction from the help.

The girl fixes me with a confused look. “Rhino?”

“Ah, that’s right. The… uh, the Djun-rug, or whatever you guys call it.”

She nods. “You killed a Djun-Rog. Sir Vasily couldn’t believe it! He’s assembling a party to go retrieve the corpse, and he wants you to lead it!”

For a second, I remember the gnome I accidentally killed, and I’m thankful that the topic of conversation has remained solely on the rhino. But why does the wizard need the rhino’s body? “Sir Vasily doesn’t just want the head? He needs the whole thing?”

The other servants chatter excitedly, reminding me again of the gnome trio. “Djun-Rog skin is extremely valuable. With its resistance to all forms of magic, wearing a shirt made from the creature’s hide will make Sir Vasily unkillable in next year’s tournament!” one of the other servants is quick to add.

“Ah, I suppose that makes sense.” I look beyond the servants to the door leading to the kitchen. My stomach rumbles. “Let me get some food in my stomach, and I’ll happily take everyone to the waterfall. There should be plenty of corpse to go around!”

The servants part to let me pass, and I’m pleasantly greeted by the smells of baking bread, slowly roasting meats, and steaming eggs that certainly don’t resemble any eggs from Earth. For one, they’re too large. Not quite ostrich, but way bigger than chick eggs. And then the color. They’re speckled somewhat reminiscent of robin eggs, but instead of a pretty blue hue, they’re black with crimson spots.

I catch the attention of one of the busy cooks. “Hey, what are the eggs?”

He points to them with a wooden spatula. “Boiled two minutes, steamed for four,” he says curtly before turning back to his duties.

“Yeah, but what animal?” I keep forgetting that I have to be super specific here since most people assume I’m one of them.

He looks back over his shoulder and gives me a courtesy chuckle, but he doesn’t respond. Obviously, he thinks I’m joking with him, and he also doesn’t think the joke is very funny. At least he doesn’t call me an idiot outright.

I decide to give the eggs a try anyway, and I grab one and drop it into a small wooden bowl along with a couple pieces of bread and what I can only describe as a very large chicken wing. I wonder if the meat is from the same bird as the egg, but I don’t even know if the egg is from a bird at all. What do platypus eggs look like? Or maybe it is from something else altogether that simply doesn’t exist back home.

Using a wooden spoon, I gently tap the top of the egg until it cracks, and I’m relieved to see a runny yellow yolk inside. The very edges of the yolk have turned to a semi-solid, just like a partially boiled egg would back home. It dawns on me that I also don’t know any of the eating customs in Inktown. I decide that dipping the bread into the yolk is safest and give it a try.

The flavor… it isn’t bad, but it’s so different that I nearly spit it out. It’s warm, as expected, but minty and sweet like candy, not savory as an egg is supposed to be. After a few bites, I decide that I like the strange egg, and I finish it with half a chunk of bread and then go back for a second.

Unlike the strangeness of the egg, the meat tastes just like chicken. Its seasoned well, cooked perfectly, and the meat practically melts from the bone. The familiar flavor and texture are good compliments to the unique egg, and the breakfast has me fully rejuvenated before long.

Sir Vasily finds me in the main hall just as I’m about to ask one of the servants where to find him. I recognize two of his entourage from the day before, the naked women I met in his room, though they’re dressed now in tight fitting leather and each wear a pair of slender swords on their hips. They’re a far cry from the ditsy, vapid club girl vibes they gave off yesterday. Now they’re ready for a battle. The rest of the crew are men, equally armed and armored, and there appear to be about a dozen in total.

The celebrity wizard is decked out in flamboyant robes with a wide brimmed conical hat. The whole ensemble is some kind of blue suede patterned with streaks of bright yellow. On Earth, he would look insane, every bit the raving lunatic perched outside a shady gas station. All he’s missing is a couple radiation tumors, and he’d fit right in with all the homeless of East Rutherford. In Inktown, I’m sure he cuts a much more impressive image.

“You really did it, didn’t you?” Sir Vasily says with a healthy amount of respect that he never had before.

I offer him a slight bow and smile. “I told you I would. And now, I believe you have part of the bargain to uphold?”

The wizard doesn’t skip a beat. He takes a deep breath, places both hands on my shoulders, and tilts his head back toward the ceiling. “You, my wonderful familiar, have completed a most impossible task. I am astounded, truly. And for your reward, I am pleased to bestow upon you the wizard class.” The others in the entourage—and even the few servants also in the room—drop to one knee and hold out their left arms in what I assume is an Inktown salute. “May your days be long, your nights be calm, and your enemies know your name.”

He snaps his head forward and waves a hand between us. I assume he’s dismissing some kind of status screen that appeared in his vision upon confirming my class.

Speaking of which… “Status.”

Sarah O’Connor

Class: Wizard

Level: 5

Mana: 40/40

Physique: 16

Cunning: 12

Authority: 9

Attunement: 4

Progress to next level: 41/48

Confirming the class and officially becoming a wizard has boosted my attunement stat enough to raise my level to five. I also now have forty mana instead of just ten, though I still don’t have any discernible way to spend it.

When I finish reviewing my new stats, I notice a small pulse of red below the main text, and when I flick my eyes toward it, the view changes.

Please select a Level 4 Spell:

Rain: A soft rain is conjured at the target location. Cost: 3 mana per second.

Solace: Bring a measure of relief to a comrade in distress. Cost: 5 mana.

“Uh, wizard man. You’re supposed to be tutoring me now, right?” I wave away the text floating in front of my eyes.

Sir Vasily nods. “You are my charge, my vassal. No longer a mere familiar. I will train you to become a powerful wizard, and then perhaps one day you will have the glory and honor of dying by my hand in the Tournament!”

“Great. What should I choose for a spell? Looks like I get to pick between Rain and Solace. They both seem kind of... Useless.”

The wizard laughs and spins, flourishing his ridiculous robe. “Rain can put out a small fire, but I haven’t used it in ages. And I’ve never known a wizard with Solace. What are you, level four? At your age?” He and the others all laugh, clearly shocked.

I feel like reminding him that I just got here two days ago, but it isn’t worth the effort. “I killed a Djun-Rog, you know. Remember that? The unkillable, magic-immune beast? I killed it. And it only took me a day.”

He waves a dismissive hand and starts leading the entourage for the main doors. “Select what you will. When you reach level ten, that is when the real decisions will need to be made. Until then, nothing matters much. Those early skills will all be useless in the Tournament.”

“Status.” I focus back to the skills panel and mentally select Solace simply because Sir Vasily already has Rain.

Another flash of text is quick to follow:

Please select a Level 5 Augmentation:

Nimble: Your joints are flexible and less prone to damage.

Clear Vision: You can see better at night.

“God, these are kind of shitty. I thought being a wizard would mean fireballs and summoning demons or snowstorms or lightning or something. What’s up with the wimpy stuff?”

Sir Vasily is already heading out the door, but one of the girls in leather drops back to help me out. “A level five wizard is kind of like a baby or a little kid. You… you don’t really do much. But don’t worry. Sir Vasily is the greatest wizard in Inktown. If there’s anyone you want to learn from, it’s him.”

“Thanks.” I offer her a smile, and I’m surprised when she returns it. Yesterday, I would have sworn she viewed me as nonexistent. Now, she’s eager to be my friend. I suppose earning the favor of the town hero has its perks.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Take the vision choice. The other one is terrible. I don’t even remember what it is.”

“You’re a wizard too?” I ask, perplexed by her non-wizard attire.

She laughs. “No, of course not. I just know a lot about wizards from Sir Vasily. My name is Shrine, and I’m an assassin. My sister, Relic, is an assassin too. The captain of the guard is Sir Vasily’s main protector in the Tournament and helps train the troops, but we guard him at all other times. We only ever leave his side when he’s competing. He won’t let us in the arena… yet.”

“Status.” I quickly navigate to the vision enhancement augmentation and mentally select it. I’ll have to wait until the suns dim to try it out, however.

“Here,” the lithe woman says, placing a hand on my shoulder and turning me to face her. “Look right above my head and say: resolve.” She waves her hand to dismiss the text that no doubt just appeared in her own vision.

“Alright.” I focus above her golden hair. “Resolve.”

Shrine

Class: Assassin

Level: 38

Health: 609

Mana: 412

Status: Friendly

“Whoa, that’s way different than I see on my own stats. I don’t have health or status, and I have a bunch of other stuff like physique and attunement. Why is it so different?” I wave away the text so I don’t trip going down the stairs outside with the others.

“They really don’t have any of this stuff where you’re from, do they?” she asks.

I can tell she’s being honest and is genuinely baffled by my lack of understanding. “No. I’m not from here. When Sir Vasily summoned me, well, my world doesn’t have any of this stuff.”

Her eyes brighten as though she’s happy to be my guide. The change from the day before is so profound that I almost think I’m being set up for some kind of elaborate prank. Almost.

“For starters, you can never see your own health. You just have to feel it. And don’t bring it up to anyone, either. Telling someone their health, even if they ask, is kind of taboo around here. It’s an invasion of privacy. And you’ll only see anything beyond a name and class if you’re friends. Make sense?” She explains it all in a very scholastic way, and I’m eager to learn.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I get it. First rule, don’t talk about health. Easy enough.”

“What else do you want to know?”

Our group has reached the edge of the forest, and Sir Vasily holds up a hand to bring us to a halt. “Sarah!” he shouts before his eyes find mind. “Come, come. Lead the way to the Djun-Rog’s corpse!”

I look to Shrine, not wanting to leave her behind, and I’m thankful when she smiles and matches my pace to the front of the group. “It isn’t too far, just the waterfall.”

Suddenly, I feel extremely stupid. I left the manor without my rifle. I was so caught up in everything going on with the levels and the wizard class and breakfast that I completely forgot to grab it from my room. If shit hits the fan, I’ll be defenseless. I won’t even be able to conjure up a tiny amount of rain.

“Hey, Shrine, how do I actually use a spell?” I ask, eager to try the Solace spell on my own reeling mind.

“Select a target with your vision. And if you’re blindfolded or something, you just have to imagine the location. But that gets really random most of the time. Anyway, look where you want it to cast and say the name. Eventually you’ll get an augmentation that removes the speaking component. I think that’s level thirteen or fifteen.” She points to a nearby tree and flashes a wicked smile. “Pierce!”

A length of metal probably three feet long materializes in the air and then hurtles into the tree, slamming into the bark with a deep thunk. A second later, the magical projectile dissipates, leaving behind a round borehole a couple inches deep.

“Nice! That’s pretty awesome.” I don’t have a mirror to focus on myself, so I simply pick one of the soldiers to test out my new ability. “Solace.”

The man barely reacts. He cocks his head to the side for a moment, then shrugs. Great. Super useful.

“Yeah, that one isn’t very good. But don’t worry, you’ll get some powerful spells just like Sir Vasily in no time!”

We pass not far from the dead gnome I barely concealed under some leaves, and I tactfully turn the ground a few degrees to give the body a wide berth. “Hey, Shrine… what do you know about gnomes?” Might as well find out if I committed a war crime or not.

To my surprise, the assassin launches a glob of spit onto the forest floor. “Filthy vermin. Despicable, grimy little theives, the lot of them.”

“And… are they easy to kill?”

She cackles like a madwoman. “Easy? Killing gnomes is like breathing. Not only is it easy, your head starts to hurt if you go too long without doing it. And I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She leans in close to my ear, and I feel her warm breath on my cheek. “Gnomes only have one point of health. All of them. No matter their level, their class, their age—anything. Just knock em over, and they’ll die.”

Now that makes a lot of sense! “Ah, alright. Very good to know!” I don’t feel so bad about killing the one yesterday. I had no idea they only have a single point of health, and honestly, not to victim blame too much, but the gnomes should have left me alone if they wanted to live. That would have been the reasonable thing to do, at least.

We reach the clearing and the little waterfall without incident, and the team quickly sets to work harvesting the rhino corpse. A few soldiers watch our perimeter while Sir Vasily directs them. As it turns out, certain pieces of the animal’s hide have different properties, and bringing down a single beast is as big of a deal as Sir Vasily made it out to be. He has armorers and craftspeople at the manor who will turn the various cuts into defensive items, and then some other big chunks will be taken into Inktown and sold for profit.

After a few hours, the corpse is reduced to a smallish scattering of bones and a pile of unusable internal organs. Everyone is loaded down with heavy sacks to carry back our spoils except for me, Sir Vasily, and the two assassin guards.

The trek back to Gnomeslayer Estate is slower than the first expedition, but a few spells from Sir Vasily speeds things along. The first is a levitation spell that lifts the packs of meat and flesh a few feet off the ground, eliminating all the friction with the forest floor though still not removing the weight. The second is much more impressive, at least to me. Sir Vasily waves his hand, and the soldiers are instantly filled with vigor. Their muscles bulge beneath their leather armor, and they even appear to grow a few inches taller. It’s like they each had a year’s worth of steroids injected in the span of a few seconds.

“How long will that last?” I ask Sir Vasily.

He fixes me with another of his borderline creepy grins. “Ah, the Fearsome Strength spell? It steadily drains my mana, but nothing the great Sir Vasily cannot withstand for a simple walk back to the manor.”

The applications for such a powerful spell would be nearly endless. I wonder just how much mana the wizard has at his disposal. “Resolve.”

Sir Vasily Gnomeslayer, Petulant Scourge of Inktown

Holdings: Gnomeslayer Estate

Vassals: Shrine (Assassin), Relic (Assassin), Cornelius (Guard Captain), Katrin (Wizard), Sarah (Wizard)

Class: Wizard

Second Class: Weaver

Level: 102

Health: 10,481

Mana: 810

Status: Master

I swipe the information out of my view. “Whoa… I don’t really like the implications there…” I mutter under my breath.

Shaking my head, I catch up to Shrine with a new host of questions pounding through my head. “Hey, what’s up with Sir Vasily’s second class? That’s a thing?”

The nimble assassin smiles. “Maintaining two classes is extremely difficult. You know how your level is based on multiples of eight?”

“Sure.”

“Each class adds another eight. So it takes Sir Vasily twice as long to level up compared to everyone else. But, he gets double the rewards.”

“And the weaver class? I’m not familiar.” I can’t imagine the great celebrity wizard sitting down with a hot cup of English tea and putting together baskets from a collection of reeds.

She sighs. “Weaver. It’s incredibly rare. I don’t even know where he found another weaver to get it confirmed. How do I explain it… Weavers can see some things in the past, essentially. I know that doesn’t make much sense—just trust me. It takes an incredible amount of mana, even by Sir Vasily’s standards, but he can sometimes peer into the past, though only for a few seconds at a time.”

If the strength spell Sir Vasily cast on the soldiers was impressive, the mere description of the weaver class was on a different tier altogether. “I can’t even imagine such power… and a third class? Is it possible? Or a fourth?”

Shrine’s brows furrow. “I’ve not heard of it, but I don’t suppose there would be a limit. You’d just take years gaining a single level.”

One more question burned on my mind. “Alright, it also says I’m Sir Vasily’s vassal and that he’s my master. Please don’t tell me I’m a slave.” I’d seen plenty of slaves in the war, and I had no intention of ever living a single moment in such a life. Most of the slaves were nothing more than war trophies, victims claimed by brutal victors when the ashes of the nuclear bombs finally settled on landscapes devoid of the rule of law. Others… I shudder. I had always heard that slavery was more prominent in the twenty-first century than any other time on Earth, but I hadn’t believed it until we liberated a camp outside Aleppo. So many faces. So many bodies.

Shrine snaps her fingers, bringing my mind reeling back to the present. “You still with me?” she asks with a hint of genuine concern.

I take a few breaths and silently count my fingers before responding. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about some things back home.”

“As I was saying, you’re not a slave. Sir Vasily is my master too, and I am his vassal. I can still leave whenever I want, but where would I go? I don’t have the coin to set up shop in Inktown on my own, and I sure won’t find a nicer house to live in. Besides, the wizard tends to grow on you after a while.”

For a second, I contemplate asking her why she and her sister were naked in Sir Vasily’s room, but it isn’t my place. Their business is their business, after all. “And he has another wizard vassal? Someone named Katrin?”

Shrine holds up a hand. Behind us, the entourage comes to a halt, and Sir Vasily’s voice booms over our heads. “The queen’s officials at my gates?”

I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. The officials, and there are probably twenty or more of them, are dressed in deep shimmering red with brilliant, polished steel armor. About half ride horses, and I have no idea how the others got to the manor. While I’m far from an expert on Inktown classes, I guess that most of the officials are more martial focused as only a small handful are dressed more like Sir Vasily with big hats and staffs.

“What’s going on?” I whisper to Shrine.

Her voice quavers. “I don’t know.”

“So… officials at the gate are a bad thing…”

Sir Vasily pushes through the retinue and storms up to one of the officials who appears to be in charge. The man in red sits atop a gallant horse, and he wears a plume of brilliant feathers on top of his shiny helm. “What is the meaning of this?” Sir Vasily asks, not quite demanding but clearly upset.

Then my blood freezes in my veins. The guard in charge points a white-gloved hand at my chest. “Her. She’s coming with us.”

Sir Vasily makes a grand show of being absolutely flabbergasted. “And the charge? You cannot simply confiscate one of my charges at will! I must be told the charge!”

The man frowns. “She is suspected of using unauthorized magic. In short, Sir Vasily, the queen thinks she cheated in the Tournament. And she cheated to help you win.” He pulls a tightly rolled parchment scroll from a saddlebag and hands it over. “Until further notice, your fourth victory in the Inktown City Tournament has been vacated. You are barred from participating again until our investigation is complete, at which time the crown will render a final decision.”

A handful of the soldiers on foot are steadily marching my direction.

Their leader clears his throat and locks eyes with me. “Bring her in!”