At some point during the winter, I had become an old man. After lunch, I was sitting outside the kitchen window with a steaming cup of Moss tea and a heavy blanket on my legs. My eyelids felt heavy, and I started to doze. The sky was still covered in gray clouds, but there were already hints of spring here and there; the cold wasn’t biting as harshly as weeks ago, and Elincia had shed her heavy dresses for more comfortable garments.

Two days had passed since Sir Enric’s assassination, and the story had spread like fire. The Marquis had done great intelligence work because the theory about a jealous lover seeking retribution was widely accepted. The next day of the feast, the Guardsmen found the ‘culprits’ while trying to flee the city. Among their belongings, the Sniffers found edible crafting materials and Ashthorn powder. The case was closed.

I could not get a definitive answer from Captain Kiln, but she hinted that the ‘culprits’ were inmates sentenced to death for banditry. When I pressed her, she told me she shouldn’t speak about confidential topics outside the Guard and shut any further questioning down. Captain Kiln was probably the most righteous person in Farcrest, so I didn't give it a second thought.

I was glad that episode was over, yet I knew my father would disapprove of my actions.

A cold breeze hit my face, so I unfolded the blanket covering my upper body and took a little sip of Moss Tea. It was too hot. I thought about my father. Years ago, I used to make fun of him for dozing off after lunch. He always said the same would happen to me. It seemed his prophecy was becoming true.

The fact that Elincia had me running around the market since the first hour in the morning to gather the ingredients for Firana’s birthday party didn’t help my energy levels. Even the easiest errand took a good part of the day without a car. Maybe I needed Ginz to develop a bicycle with a small cart attached to the back to carry Shu.

“So, this is what a dozen orphans do to a young man?” Elincia asked as she jumped out of the window with feline grace.

“A dozen orphans and a bratty elf governess. Don’t forget the last part,” I replied.

Lord Vedras becoming a Transmuter encouraged Elincia to double down on her efforts to improve her class. Late at night, while lying in bed, I felt Elincia drawing mana from my reserves as she tried novel recipes. Brewing without the assistance of the System used exponentially more mana than brewing known recipes. No matter how often I told her to be careful, she remained unapologetic.

Elincia sat on my lap and wrapped her hands around my neck. A little normalcy in our daily lives was everything I yearned for, yet the tournament was just a week away. I took a sip of my Green Moss tea before Elincia hijacked it. Green Moss Tea wasn’t a Scholar-only beverage as she had initially said.

“How are the kids doing?” Elincia asked.

“As you can see, Firana is asserting her ‘birthday-girl’ authority in the most tyrannical way,” I replied.

Before us, in the training grounds, Firana grappled Zaon and sent him flying into the mud. I wondered if she had aimed at the mud pool on purpose. I sighed. Even if I hadn’t expected it, now I knew how Zaon would look with brown hair. It suited him surprisingly well despite his crestfallen expression.

“Her birthday has her all fired up, uh?” Elincia said.

Ilya scolded Firana as Wolf plucked Zaon out of the mud.

“Are you dumb? What if you injure Zaon?” Ilya yelled loud enough for us to hear.

“Chill out, captain. Miss Elincia can brew a potion to fix him,” Firana replied, but Ilya cut her off mid-sentence.

“Even with a potion, fractured bones and severed tendons require several days of rest to heal properly, you heavy-handed dimwit.”

The argument continued for a few seconds until Firana finally capitulated. They stopped the wrestling session and retreated to the big stump, where they sat to contemplate the sky. Ilya had been the right choice as team captain; she was an innate team player and learned how to take command of the situation from Elincia. All she ever needed was a little push.

“Want to bet on the class Firana will get?” Elincia said, taking the cup from my hand and taking a long sip despite it being steaming. Elves seemed to be cold and heatproof.

“That would be disrespectful,” I replied.

“The kids already have their picks. Ilya thinks Firana will become a Fencer, Zaon says she will become a Knight, and Wolf opts for Soldier,” Elincia said. “Oh. Wolf was just trying to mess with Firana. He doesn’t believe she will become a Soldier,” she added after seeing my face of confusion.

Soldier wasn’t a good Class at all.

“Firana took the bait?” I asked.

“She went ballistic,” Elincia giggled. “It’s nice to see them getting along.”

It was. Days like this were all I yearned for. However, I couldn’t help but feel restless.

Wolf had voiced his intention to remain at the orphanage until the end of the tournament. After that, he might want to return to the tribes, regardless of the results. A bitter smile appeared on my face. One way or another, the kids' time at the orphanage was coming to an end. Whether it was the army, the Imperial Academy, or the tribes, they would end up leaving the orphanage.

Things were bound to change no matter how much I wanted them to stay like this.

“Have you thought about what we are going to do onwards? We will have time to spare with Lady Jorn working for us,” Elincia asked as she snuggled to my side.

“What about a picnic on the bank of the Azure River?” I replied. Even on weekends, Elincia and I spent most of our time looking over the kids.

“If you want to see me swim naked, you’ll have to wait until Spring,” Elincia grinned, jabbing at my ribs.

“You are such a tease for someone who uses a screen to put on pajamas,” I whispered back.

“Ha! Mister Lowell warned me about pretty boys like you. You give them an inch, and they take a mile,” Elincia retorted.

It would be nice if things stayed like this forever, but there was always something to do around the orphanage. Firana left the big stump and returned to the manor without her usual rashness. She looked like she wanted to puke.

“I think I’m ready, Mister Clarke,” Firana said.

Elincia jumped from my lap and wrapped Firana in a tight hug.

“Let’s go get your Class then,” I replied.

* * *

We walked down the street, dodging the familiar puddles. With the royal army stationed in Farcrest, The North District had regained some of its old population. New taverns, canteens, and stores flourished like dormant seeds in Spring. Despite my initial worries, the soldiers roaming the city were generally decent folk looking to spend their hard-earned coin.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

With the System archiving the most significant personality traits in the Character Sheet, it should be easy to distinguish good from wicked people. I wondered if that compelled people to act virtuously and avoid doing evil. The System was too subjective for my liking. Holst had left the orphanage to starve, but he had no suspicious titles besides [Cunning].

What worried me more was the person who asked Holst to poison the farm and release the chickens. Deep inside, I knew I should tell Captain Kiln about my recent findings, but Holst was her relative and a well-respected member of Farcrest nobility. This was his hunting grounds. I shook my head. There were more pressing things to focus on.

“How are you doing, Firana?” I asked.

The girl walked stuck to my side; her face was almost as green as Wolf’s, and her mouth was turned into a thin line.

“Me? Perfect. I’ll probably get a Prestige Class right away,” the girl replied, not sounding convincing at all.

“Don’t be nervous. Elincia told you how it feels to get your class?” I asked, offering her my arm. She grabbed it almost reflexively.

“The Zealot will touch my head, and I will be sent to a familiar place where I will talk to the System. Once there, the System will offer me several Classes to choose from,” Firana replied. “It’s just…”

“You don’t know what you want?”

Firana’s shoulders deflated. It wasn’t usual to see her ashamed. “Yeah. Ilya was worried about not getting a good class, which was understandable. I shouldn’t feel nervous. I have no right to feel like this, and yet…”

I couldn’t help but smile. Ilya was the student who was fighting for a passing grade. Firana, on the other hand, had such good grades that she struggled to choose among the multiple career paths open before her. In a sense, Ilya’s struggle was easier to resolve, as the goal was clearly highlighted.

“What do you want to do going forward?” I asked.

“That’s my problem! I don’t know what Class I should take! Being all lovey-dovey with Miss Elincia really dulls your attention span!” Firana said, exasperated.

I had to stifle a laugh.

“I was not asking about your Class. I was asking what you want to do as a person,” I explained.

Firana frowned.

“Is that a trick question?” She turned around to examine my expression.

“It’s not a trick question,” I replied. “What would you like to be doing in a year from now? What about five? Ten? Again, don’t think anything related to a Class.”

Firana scratched her chin, and I wondered if she had copied that gesture from me.

“That’s even harder to answer. I always thought what you’ll end up doing depends on your Class,” Firana said. “I guess… I want to explore the Farlands and kill big monsters, but only sometimes. I want to stay at the orphanage with everyone, have fun, eat tasty stuff, and level up together.”

It came as a surprise how similar our desires were. Staying at the orphanage with everyone seemed like something Ilya would say. I expected Firana’s dream to be slightly more adventure-focused.

At least, the answer to her question was very straightforward.

“In that case, you need a powerful Class to win the tournament,” I said. “The Marquis promised to make me a noble if we win. Then, I can legally adopt you all, and you will have a degree of political immunity, which means no conscription.”

The color came back to Firana’s face.

“Alright, understood, I need a powerful Class to crush my opponents,” she said, slapping her cheeks with too much force. “Firana Clarke, eh? Doesn’t sound half as bad.”

I would like to study Firana’s brain to see how she managed to reach that kind of conclusion.

The bystanders stopped to look at us. I didn’t know why I expected Firana to react more calmly. I sighed. At least being pumped up was better than being nervous. We crossed the market and climbed the main street toward the Great Hall while Firana fantasized about getting a Prestige Class.

“If the System offers you [Black Knight of Death] or something similar, please skip it,” I sighed as we reached the inner wall. The guards saluted us and moved to the side despite our simple clothing.

“That’s exactly the Class I need to crush my enemies,” Firana retorted.

As soon as we crossed the inner wall, we were assaulted by the glances of the nobles hanging out in the front garden. I recognized a few faces from the party. Most of them were lowly barons and knights with their entourage of courtiers. I thought about going around the Great Hall to enter through the Guard’s barracks, but a servant stood in front of me before I could slip away.

“We were waiting for you, Mister Clarke,” the man said, inviting me into the Great Hall.

“I haven’t announced my visit,” I replied, confused.

“Oh, we know today is Lady Aias’ fifteenth birthday. We have a Zealot ready to perform the ceremony,” the servant said.

I couldn’t find any excuse to escape, so I followed him inside the Great Hall. Although Firana was somewhat famous, I didn’t expect the Marquis or Captain Kiln to organize a ceremony around her birthday. Prince Adrien maybe? No. The kingdom was vast, and the Aias family was one more of the hundreds of mercenary families.

As soon as we entered the Great Hall, I noticed a few servants rushing outside the vestibule. Someone was waiting for us. The servant guided us to the audience hall without saying a word, but I noticed he made a big detour through the southern wing. Almost as if he was buying enough time for our mysterious guest to assemble.

“Good luck inside, Lady Aias,” the servant said as we reached the ornate oak door.

“Thank you,” Firana replied, unaware of the strange situation.

I shoved Firana behind me and entered first. My eyes took a second to get accustomed to the light. The audience hall was well illuminated, almost as if all the light stones of the Great Hall were gathered there. A small group of people turned around as soon as the doors opened: the Marquis, Captain Kiln, Luzian Abei, the wolf-eared Zealot, and Kellaren Odrac-Aias, accompanied by two soldiers dressed in the colors of House Osgiria.

Before I could notice, mana swirled around my hands.

“I’m not here to fight. I’m just here to see my niece get her class…” Kellaren said, raising the palms of his hands. “... with the permission of the Marquis and Lord Osgiria, of course.”

His self-sufficient smile wasn’t reassuring in the slightest.

I took a deep breath and exchanged a glance with the Marquis. The face of the man didn’t reflect any emotion. There was something wrong. Kellaren wasn’t in the position to force the Marquis’ hand unless he had solidified his alliance with House Osgiriam which wasn’t particularly good news.

“Let’s not dwell in the past. Today is Lady Aias’ special day,” Abei cheerily clapped his hands and signaled us to come forth. “I reckon a girl as curious as you would make a good Scholar, but let’s not get ahead of the System.”

Abei was as excited as Firana, which was heartwarming in its own strange way. I took a deep breath and let the tension on my shoulders go. With the Marquis and Captain Kiln in the room, Kellaren wouldn’t try anything funny, or so I hoped. I didn’t know what to expect from an overly ambitious man.

At least I knew who had prepared such a show.

“Let’s get this over with. There is a fruit cake waiting for me at the orphanage,” Firana said, ignoring Kellaren and walking directly to the Zealot.

Firana’s obsession with food was as endearing as it was worrying.

“Follow me, Lady Aias,” the Zealot said, walking towards the throne.

“I want Mister Clarke to come with us,” she replied. “If that’s okay with you.”

The Zealot nodded and resumed the march. For a moment, I thought we were going into the Marquis’ private chambers, but the Zealot stopped behind the throne. On the floor, there was a trapdoor that revealed a spiral staircase plunging into the darkness. Each of us grabbed a light stone before starting the descent.

A moment later, the sounds of chatter disappeared behind us. The air was cold and damp, and for a moment, I thought we had arrived at the cabin in the middle of the Appalachians. Luckily, we weren’t. The Zealot opened a door, revealing a small room of bare walls. In front of us was an altar with the System Shrine Shard resting on a nest of copper wire.

I put my hand on Firana’s shoulder, but the girl was more curious than nervous.

“I thought Farcrest didn’t have a Shrine,” I said.

“It doesn't. It’s just a shard. We don’t need a Shrine to connect with the System, but this shard would help,” the Zealot explained, putting a hand over the blue orb. “Touch my hand when you are ready.”

Firana gave me the thumbs up and stepped forward. Then, slowly, almost cautiously, she touched the Zealot's fingers. The orb came to life. It only lasted an instant, but I saw the familiar runes shining on the blue surface with meridian clarity. A moment later, the light faded, and Firana stumbled back.

It was done.

Firana turned around with a hesitant step.

“What did you get?” I asked, barely hiding my worried expression. I was expecting Firana to jump around like a spring. Considering Ilya’s reaction, getting a Class was a rush of adrenaline.

“I… The System asked me to relay you a message,” Firana muttered. “He said we are behind schedule.”