When I open my eyes, every part of me informs me that something is wrong, loudly.

I hiss in pain as I sit up, my body screaming like I had thrown it into a blender yesterday…

Yesterday!

My eyes fly the rest of the way open, and I hold my injured arm out in front of me.

Shockingly, it looks better.

Unnervingly better.

The red, burned skin has been almost completely replaced by healthy looking tissue, only a few patches of burns dotting my arm. I try and move my fingers, and find that they react, but slowly. Pain shoots up my arms as they creak open and closed, but hey, at least they work now. But I shouldn’t have healed this much in a few hours.

‘Lotus? Are you awake?’

A few seconds after I ask, Lotus’ musical voice chimes through my mind. Yep yep! What ya need, Chatty?

I smile softly, anxiety I hadn’t noticed evaporating.

‘You know why my wound healed so fast?’ I ask my mental companion.

Hmm… The boxes did say you’d heal faster… She muses. But this is a bit faster than I expected. I thought it’d take at least a day.

I nod. Yeah, at least… a day?

Panic flares through me, and I jump out of bed, ignoring my body’s protests. Rushing to the window, I pull back the curtain, just enough to see outside. And my stomach drops.

The sun is already low in the sky.

I… I lost an entire day. Never showed up to the forge, never got food… I’ll lose my job! How am I going to survive now?

Gritting my teeth, I throw on my only set of clothes and rush downstairs. I grab my bag, stuffing what few coins I have into it, and slip outside. After running like mad through the shadowy streets, I skid to a halt in front of Jeffery’s forge.

My body is screaming, begging me to rest, but I ignore it. I can rest when I’m dead.

Sitting in his usual spot, working on something I’m too worried to care about, is Jeffery.

Like usual, I walk up to the far side of the anvil he’s using, and wait. After what feels like an eternity, the bushy man’s eyes catch a glimpse of me.

“Chatty!” He says, a small frown bending his mustache. “Why are ya…” His eyes go wide as he looks at me.

I bow my head, desperate to keep my job. He can yell at me, punish me, even beat me, as long as I can keep making the money he’s been giving me.

I don’t have another option.

With a start, I notice the man’s heavy boots step in front of me. I look up fearfully… and immediately become confused.

The small, but larger than I, man’s eyes are filled with worry, and he’s checking me over, focusing on my injured arm.

“What in Rend’s name ya do to yerself, girl!” He roars, angry, but not in the way I expected.

I just frown up at the man sadly, not exactly equipped to tell my story. His eyes soften when he realizes this as well, and he lets out a tired sigh.

“I was wonderin where ya were, and ya went off an got hurt.” He says with a scowl. “And why’d ya have the stench of slime all…” Understanding flashes in his eyes, immediately followed by rage. “You fought a slime?” He yells.

My eyes drop to the ground, and I slowly nod.

“What got into ya to make ya go and do somethin like that?!” He shouts.

I smile weakly, rubbing my fingers together. Money… and a loudmouth girl’s lust for skewers, but I don’t try to convey that bit.

His large hand grips my good shoulder a bit too roughly. “Girl, money isn’t worth shit if yer dead.” He grumbles darkly.

My head bobs furiously in agreement. I had that realization last night, when I was sure I was going to die of infection.

A loud, guttural, sigh reverberates through the man’s chest. “Alright, I want ya to stay with me for the night. I can’t have ya going out and getting street filth in that wound of yers.” He says angrily, his worried eyes not matching his frustrated tone.

I go to nod, but remember that weird thing he pulled yesterday. Is he doing this just to get me alone? …No, he could’ve done that at any time, really. Not like I could stop him, or yell for help. And so I agree with a short nod.

“Good!” The blacksmith grunts. He picks up a large bucket of water, and hands it to me. “Take yer good arm, and go get some water. I need it for supper.”

He’s… going to feed me? I nod furiously, and turn to rush towards the well.

The stone structure isn’t far from his shop, only a house over, so I quickly reach it. Looking around, I see no one, not even kids. I place the bucket down on the ground and grab the lever to pull the well’s own out of the deep hole.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

It’s hard due to the slightly rusted metal of the crank, but I eventually get the water up to the surface. And then I hit a problem.

I can’t hold the bucket I brought and pour the water into it with one hand at the same time. I could put my bucket on the lip of the well, but I don’t dare. Jeffrey is mad enough at me as is without me losing his bucket.

I can help! Lotus suddenly cries, startling me badly.

‘How?’

You hold the bucket, and I’ll tip the water into it!

‘...How are you… The slime?’ I ask.

Yep yep yep! Lotus cheers. It’s not strong, but it should be strong enough for that!

My gut says to say no, but there’s no one here, and I need the water…

‘Alright.’

Almost instantly, I feel movement on my bad shoulder. A soothing touch that slowly travels down my burned arm before reaching out on its own. I wrap my working arm around the bucket, and watch in awe as a small branch of ooze latches onto the lip of the hanging water, and pulls.

The clear liquid flows, some splashing out, but most of it making it into the bucket. I smile widely at our success.

‘Thanks Lotus!’ I think happily.

Noooo problem sis.

My task done, I hold my cargo close to my chest, and hurry back to Jeffrey’s, although not as fast as I left, ladened with the water as I am. Soon enough I’m staring up at the blacksmith’s reinforced door.

Do I knock?

Lotus doesn’t give me a chance to decide, a small whip of purple flashing out my shirt into the door with a thud. It retracts just in time for the hunk of wood to creak open.

“Ya got it!” Jeffrey beams, his anger from before gone. “Come in, come in!” He gestures.

Giving the man a wide smile, I enter his small home, and look around.

Unlike the man’s forge, his home is very neat. A bit bare, but well maintained. A large, comfy looking bed lies against the back wall of the building, a nice looking desk next to it. In between the man’s sleeping area, and the rest of his home, sits a squat metal stove, several cooking implements sitting on top of it. He takes the water from my arm, and pours it into one of the pots.

Right in front of the stove, but not too close, is what looks like a roughly made couch, more a conglomeration of cushions than actual furniture. And then, close to the entrance and where I’m standing, is a clean table, several wooden seats surrounding it. A few cupboards hang over some counters on the other side of the dining area.

While everything is nice, and well kept, the building itself is a bit small for it all, giving the space just a touch of claustrophobia.

Boy have I been spoiled by my ‘mansion’ or what? Lotus chuckles in my mind as I turn my focus to the smith.

Several vegetables and a small lump of meat in hand, the man makes his way over to the counter. He takes out a large butcher’s knife, and starts expertly cutting up the ingredients. At least it looks masterful, to me.

“Go ahead and sit down on the couch there, it’ll be a while before supper.” Jeffery says offhandedly, his mind clearly on the task in front of him.

I nod, not that he can see me behind him, before moving onto the couch.

As soon as my butt hits the cushions, I start sinking in. It feels like an ocean of cloth! After a few seconds of falling in deeper, I stick, and realize it’s pretty comfortable. The warmth and comfort soothing my aching muscles, and I start to nod off.

I’m not sure how long I sit there, just barely awake, but eventually I’m pulled out of it by Jeffery’s throaty chuckling.

“Comfy, ain’t it?” He asks with a smile. I weakly nod, not wanting to move. The smile still on the man’s face, he turns around and drops the chopped foodstuff into the pot. Then, after pulling open the grill of the stove, he snaps his fingers.

And a small orb of fire appears above his hand.

With a flick of his wrist, he sends the fire careening into the stove. The wood inside instantly ignites, the flickering fire roaring to life.

“Now, we wait.” He says, satisfied. After a quick look at me, his face turns to a slight frown. He walks away for a moment, before quickly returning with a chair. Plopping down onto the seat, he looks me in the eyes.

“So… Ya kill the fucker?” He asks seriously.

It takes me a moment to realize what he’s asking, my brain still a bit too comfy. The slime, he’s asking if I beat it. I give a weak nod, along with a melancholy smile.

His eyes go wide. “Really now! That explains the wound…” His eyes run me over again, like yesterday. “Say… Do ya have a class?”

I scrunch up my eyebrows. What’s a class? If I don’t know, I probably don’t.

I shake my head.

Eyes even wider than before, he slaps his knee. “Well I’ll be damned, killed a slime without a class. I’ve never heard of such a thing, not in this town of newbies at least.” He holds his beard for a moment, stroking it thoughtfully. “Ya be interested in getting one?” He asks.

I tilt my head, still not sure what he means by class.

“Ya don’t know what a class is, do ya?” He snorts.

I shake my head shamefully.

Leaning back in his chair, he starts to explain. “So… People have classes. Mine’s blacksmith, shocker I know.” He stops to chuckle at his own joke. “But there’s lots more. Warrior, all the different ‘mancers and their magic, stabby folk like assassins and rouges, and even ones like librarian and butcher.” He continues. “I’ve heard tell of folks getting unique ones too, strange classes that don’t fit into any box… But I’ve never met someone like that personally, they’re usually big wigs.”

As the man speaks, I nod along, intrigued.

“Having a class will give yer a little window thing that’ll teach ya how to get better at your class… Spells, techniques, training exercises, that kinda thing.” His hands roam through his beard as he rambles. “So if ya have talent in somethin, like fighting, the church’ll tell ya, and ya can get somethin that fits that talent.”

I nod, following him so far.

“So, if ya wanted, I could take ya to the church tomorrow, and get yer class. Usually folks get taken by their parents, but older people hafta get someone to vouch for them.”

So that’s why he wants to take me, instead of sending me on my own.

“Not rightly sure why, ya need someone to vouch for ya, but that’s the rules. …So, ya interested?” He asks, eyes glittering.

Without having to think, I nod. There’s no reason for me to turn this down, and it could really help me find my way.

The rugged man’s face breaks into a smile. “Good! Good! That’ll help ya if ya go off killing things again.” He says, gesturing to my injured arm.

I can’t help but smile back at the man, feeling glad someone is willing to help me.

The smith claps his hands to his knees loudly, and starts to push himself up. “Enough about that, time for supper!” He says excitedly.

Following him to the table, I sit down and have my first cooked meal since I woke up.

And it’s… nice.