“Joey,” her blue-eyes are like daggers now, “if you don’t have any levels, how do you explain your aura?”
“Aura? Again, Fulvia, whatever this is, you can take out a truth-stone if you don’t believe me. I’ll take no offense.”
This time, she just stares.
“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” She stares at a moment before muttering, “you really don’t.”
“Do you know that after a certain level, your class releases an aura?” Fulvia says with a wary voice.
Huh? Like in cartoons?
“No?”
“Well, it does. You’ll have to excuse the gossip, Joey, but I serve more than one of the [Bakers] at Happy and the Three Roses. Everyone heard you shouting and about the challenge—I just wasn’t sure I wanted to bring it up and give you trouble for it. I don’t like to stab needles in open wounds. However…”
“Don’t worry. I was wrestling with it before, but I already made peace with what happened.”
Fulvia's eyes scan me from head to toe as she bites her wrinkled bottom lip. "I can tell," she says. "You are going to win, aren't you?"
What is she seeing? What is it exactly that it’s different from the last time? Well, the fact that I met Lorenzo’s projection, obviously. But is that it? Is that really all it takes?
Aura, she said.
But I don’t really feel anything like that, do I?
I try focusing on my own mind and my sensation, but the only thing that seems different is that I perhaps slept better than usual and therefore I got more mental clarity. I do feel like my memory is working better than usual. You know what, I can feel a spark of genius at the back of my head. It’s just a little feeling though, unlike the one I used to feel as a child; in fact, it feels like a little candle that could be blown away at any second, but I’m now sure it’s there.
It is the same of when I was a child—just downsized.
This is interesting, I think to myself.
“I am,” I tell Fulvia. “I am going to win really hard.”
The old woman comes up to me and gently grabs my arm.
“I witnessed a few people over level 50 in my life. One close to level 60, a [Bard], to be precise. Their skills could do things that anyone below level 40 could only dream of.”
I don’t know where she’s going with this, exactly, but she’s piqued my interest.
“What’s so special about level 40?”
“Above level 40, you get an aura, especially around people in your same profession.”
“So if I was a [Tailor] above level 40, you would feel my aura?”
“Yes,” Fulvia nods.
“And not just that. Everyone else might feel it as well; it might just be a faint feeling for anyone else around you if you are only level 40. But the more you level up, the more your competence bleeds through even to the less skilled people. And each ten levels after level 40 is a new capstone. Many say that level 40 is when, as an individual, you can start influencing an entire city. When you get to level 50, you can exert skills that influence an entire a region.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The old [Seamstress] squeezes my arm tightly.
"At level 60, you can have a significant impact on an entire country. The level 60 capstone skills might affect millions of people, regardless of profession. For example, if I were a level 60 [Seamstress], my work could potentially take on a life of its own, depending on my specialty. I could create clothing golems as if I were a high-level [Mage], or craft tunics and clothing from the best materials in the world that give you skills and restore your body after mortal wounds. It's said that anything at and beyond level 60 is the realm of heroes."
“So, 40 is a city, 50 a region, and 60 a country? What’s level 70, 80, and 90, then?”
Fulvia shakes her head.
“We don’t know. Legends, presumably; people so incredible they have altered the entire history of the world. Vanedenis might have at least one living individual at that level, who knows. They are the only people in the entire world who consistently challenged the barrier of level 60. Not that it’s doing any good to them. Apparently, something happened on Kome, they said at the Mages’ guild. I don’t know what, but something big. But look, the higher you want to climb, the bigger the risk you have to take. They say that beyond level 40, death is behind every level. It can jump you when you least expect it.”
“Well, that’s not creepy at all,” I say with a shiver. “But why are you telling me this? I mean, I’m sorry for the rudeness. It just seems… a bit out of nowhere?”
“As I’ve said, I can feel when someone has a very high-level, Joey. Why do you think I was asking and why would I insist with questioning your answer? You give out the same feeling a high-level person does.”
“So... you are really telling me you feel something, huh?”
Fulvia removes her hand from my arm, studying her palm as if she might find the answer to my question there. She looks back at me and says, "You give me the same feeling I've had in the past when I was around high-level people. But it's different. You do have an aura. Something about you has completely changed since the first time you came here. I felt it when you were sketching the designs beside me. It was like a very high-level person had suddenly appeared by my side. You almost made me jump off the bench, that's how startled I was. But you were so focused, you barely noticed."
“But why would you feel an aura if I don’t have any level?”
“Believe me, that’s a question plaguing both you and me. It’s the first time in my entire life I got this impression. I am almost tempted to go get my truth-stone and double-check you; but I know it would give me the same result.”
After a brief pause, Fulvia asks, “you said you haven’t gotten the class yet, right? Even though you have worked hard at Happy Bakery. No class. Nothing? Not even one level?”
“Not even one level,” I nod. “But I guarantee you, I am a baker. Hell, that’s the only thing I’m sure I am.”
“I should ask at the Mages’ Guild,” Fulvia frowns. “But now they are going crazy with this gossip about the Vanedeni and barely function. Listen, somehow, you have an aura. Another person might not have noticed, but it’s there. And it is powerful.”
“Cool, cool, cool, cool.”
“Aren’t you impressed with yourself? You might be special, youngster,” Fulvia raises her eyebrows.
“Nah. I’m not special. I’m just a good baker.”
Fulvia snaps her fingers and all the needles suddenly fly away inside her pockets. “I might have [Needleproof Skin], but you somehow prickle me. Joey,” she speaks my name emphasizing the end of the word, “do you really think you can actually win against that other young upstart?”
“Flaminia?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,” I smile, “without the shadow of a doubt.”
Suddenly, as if nothing ever happened, Fulvia sighs and shakes her head.
“What a waste of energy and talent with those little kids, young man,” she’s more relaxed and less formal—less intimidated, as well. She moves to give a pinch to my butt and she smirks at me. “Do teach that young harlot a lesson on my behalf. She’s always so smug about being the best in Amorium at what she does. Especially in front of me, as if to flaunt her own youth.”
“Nah, I’m sure Flaminia is not mean on purpose,” I say, as I look at the needles resting on Fulvia’s hand as the five pieces I commissioned are finally completed.
“These are not my best work, given the little time I had. But they are certainly up to what you need them for,” Fulvia glances at me surreptiously as she smiles like a cat. “How come you are not talking dirt about Flaminia’s ears?”
“Why should I?”
“Oh, come on, young man. Why? With all that she said? The whole bakery has heard it.”
Jesus. What kind of gossip does even go around this town?
“We were both angry. And we also come from different cultures. She was rude—but trust me, Fulvia,” I hunch closer to the shorter older woman. “I don’t need to trash her with my words. It’s going to be hard enough on her once she sees what I’m really capable of.”
...
“Are you really going to help me figure out this velvet thing?” I give Fulvia my custom wink-with-click after I put the custom pieces in my bag of holding.
“You bet.”
“Also, about those pre-made tunics. How many can I get with this much money?” I slap a bag full of more coins on the table and Fulvia’s eyes go wide.
“Did you rob someone?”
“Nah. Bread sells really well here, though.”