The shock still hadn’t worn off by the time he returned home.
His mind was still reliving the experience on the village green, even as the cart rattled into place beside the family farm. The Rector had spoken with him, clearly expecting another adventurer to join the other five who had already. A mix of relief and disappointment had appeared on the old man’s face as Clay had muttered the truth, and it only got worse when the man had announced the result to the waiting onlookers.
Clay flinched as he recalled the sudden hush that spread through the crowd. The whispers and quiet laughter had started soon after, and the pity that he’d seen in the others’ eyes was almost worse. He’d shrugged off Enessa’s hand and marched to the cart, refusing to even meet his father’s gaze. Sam had said nothing, simply giving him a quiet hug before turning the cart toward home.
Now that they had arrived, Sam gave him another side hug, squeezing his shoulder a little before he got down. As his father walked to where the rest of his family waited, Clay refused to look in their direction. Instead, he jumped down on the opposite side of the cart and went stalking away across the fields, heading for the woods.
He’d always loved the woods; they’d been the source of plenty of adventures. Strolling along under the canopy of green relaxed him in a lot of ways, and he needed time to think through the turn his life had just taken. To figure out what exactly had just happened, and what he could do about it. At the very least, he didn’t want to deal with his mother’s look of relief, or his siblings’ disappointment.
He walked until he was under the leaves and the farm was out of sight thanks to the underbrush. It took him a little while, but when he finally sat down under the branches of a large oak tree, he was reasonably sure that he would not be disturbed for a while. Clay rested his head against the bark, breathing in the scents of the forest around him and listening to the idle birdsong. The sound of the wind moving through the branches calmed him a little, though it did nothing to soothe the ache in his heart.
After a few moments, he summoned the [Gift]. It was something every [Child] learned how to do when they turned eight, giving everyone a way to check the blessings that the gods had given them and to keep track of their own abilities as they grew and matured. He almost wished that he couldn’t see it now; being blind to his own weakness might have been less painful.
The words were agonizingly clear, however, no matter how he tried to look past them. They spelled out injury and insult in devastating detail.
[Clay Evergreen]
[Class: Commoner] {Level 1} (All Stats have a maximum of 16)
[Subclass: Laborer (Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing repetitive tasks)]
[Stats] {Might: 12} {Fortitude: 12} {Insight: 10} {Memory: 11} {Valor: 10} {Will: 10}
[Experiences]
{Farmhand: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when performing Farming activities. Gain Planting, Harvesting, and Husbandry skills.}
{Hunter: Gain 10% bonus to all skills when hunting wildlife. Gain Trapping and Tracking skills.}
Part of him wanted to spit on the ground as he read over those words. [Commoner] was rightly considered the weakest of the [Classes], for a broad range of reasons. First, it had the worst increases to maximum Stats of all the [Classes]. Most [Classes] raised at least two Stats to twenty. All of which meant that any of the other [Classes] would outgrow him in no time; it wouldn’t be long before Enessa, as a [Fighter], could turn him into a human pretzel no matter how hard he worked.
Even worse, there wasn’t really any way to level up [Commoner]. He’d never heard of a single person with the [Class] beyond level one. [Paladins] could level by taking and completing noble quests, [Mages] could level by diligently studying their spellcraft; even [Alchemists] and [Nobles] could level based off of titles or academic achievements. The only way a [Commoner] could level would be to fight monsters, which was almost certainly a death sentence.
If his [Class] was dismal, his [Subclass] was that much worse. As a [Farmer], his father could harvest a crop in half the time a different [Commoner] could manage the same task. A [Scribe] like his mother could read and write well enough to impress even the baron. A [Laborer], however, was almost worthless. He’d be seen as good for nothing but brute force and hard work by the rest of the village. Even the [Experiences] he’d gotten alongside those things would not change much; the bonuses those skills gave him just would not compare to what others could do.
What was he supposed to do now? All he had was a useless [Class], a worse [Subclass], and no prospects for improving either. Meanwhile, all his closest friends were going to be heading to the capital as soon as they could go; it was traditional for new adventurers to swear loyalty to the King before they moved on to their new lives of power and glory. They would go on to become a band of heroes, while he would be lucky to get work hauling loads on someone else’s farm.
Clay closed his eyes, trying to find peace in the sounds of the surrounding woods, and failing. All he could see was the bleakness of his own future, and not much more.
Then he heard a twig snap, and his eyes flew open.
The woods near the farm weren’t particularly dangerous, but only some kind of city rat would presume to think there was no danger there. An occasional bear or starving wolf might not be a reason to call in a team of heroes, but they were still dangerous to people who wandered the forest alone. Especially a relatively weak [Commoner] like him.
He looked around, searching for the source of the noise. When he didn’t see it immediately, Clay slowly pushed himself upright, trying not to move quicker than necessary in case that would provoke whatever was out there. With a bit of bitterness, he wondered what had possessed him to enter the woods without so much as his hunting bow, though it was hardly the first time he’d done so. It was different today.
“Is anyone out there? Hello?” Obviously, a wild animal wouldn’t answer, but it was worth a try.
To his relief, Enessa stepped out from behind a tree a short while later. “Hey.”
She seemed uncharacteristically uncertain; she kept her hands clutched behind her back as she meandered her way over to him.
“Hey.” He slumped back down and gave her a crooked grin. “Well, you were right. You are anything but uncommon.”
Her expression grew a little hurt by the words, and he shook his head. “No, wait, I’m sorry. I should be congratulating you. I really am happy that you have found your place.” Then he laid his head back against the trunk and sighed. The leaves fluttered and shifted in the breeze, making the light dance and hide. “I just wish I was going with you.”
She settled in beside him with a grunt. “I know.” For a long moment, she just sat next to him, fidgeting a little. Then she sighed. “Look, I don’t know why things turned out this way. I only know that without you, I doubt I would have been ready for this. I don’t think any of us would have.”
He grunted sourly, and she shoved him a little with her shoulder. Not any different than how she had done hours before, he noted. “I’m serious. Who was the one who kept dragging me and Charles out to the woods? You think that didn’t lead to us getting the [Classes] we did? The twins were always trying to match whatever we were doing too; they had their sights fixed on you from the beginning as the one to compete with. And Maribel…” She trailed off for a moment, and then grinned at him. “Well, she had her own reasons for trying as hard as she could. You inspired all of us, Clay.”
“But I won’t be going with you.” He tried not to let the words sound cold. The hurt still seemed to leak through, though, no matter how hard he tried.
Enessa was quiet for another few moments. Then she leaned against him and put her head back against the bark as well. “No. No, you won’t.”
Hearing the sadness in her voice eased his hurt a little, but Clay didn’t know what else to say. There really wasn’t anything either of them could do about the situation.
So instead, they simply sat together, watching the forest bend and flex as the wind played through the branches.
Enessa broke away from him some time later, as he made his way back home. He couldn’t help but wonder if she ran a little faster already than she had before, disappearing into the woods with her usual agility.
He trudged home, not looking forward to the conversations ahead of him. At least his mother would be happy, and his father wouldn’t have to worry. That much was all he could see in terms of a bright side to the situation.
When he got to the farmhouse, he noted Charles’ horse tied up alongside the tree in front. He recognized the beast as something the baron had bought for his son a while ago, during his attempts to mold the boy into a more proper heir. Perhaps he regretted that now, since the animal would carry Charles into danger from now on.
Clay shook his head and stomped up the steps that led into his family’s meager home. He pushed the door open and passed there, trying to force some cheer into his voice. “Hey everyone.”
Charles was there waiting for him, as he suspected. He wondered if the baron’s heir had given Enessa a ride; she had to have found some way of getting out here that quickly. His nobly born friend nodded solemnly to him, even as his siblings streamed forward with cries of outrage and excitement.
“Charles is a [Paladin]! He’s going on adventures! Do you think he would take me with him?”
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“Where did you go? I had to do half your chores—”
“Dad said you don’t have to leave now, so you can help me read my book—”
Clay held his hands up and felt a more natural smile twist his lips. “Okay, okay, I get it. Let me alone for a bit so I can talk with Dad and Charles. I’ll tell you all about it later, okay?”
Will and the others subsided a bit. His little brother gave him a quick hug, and then shepherded the rest outside, leaving the cramped space a bit more amenable for conversation. His mother stepped up beside him. She hugged him tight, her arms locked around his neck. “It’s good to have you home, son.”
He tried to agree, but the words caught in his throat a little. “I love you, Mom.”
She drew back a little, peering at him. Then she smiled and gave him a little shake before she went back to the fireplace, where something delicious was already cooking. He walked over to where Charles and Sam both sat, waiting for him.
Clay fell into the nearest chair and sighed. Then he looked over at Charles. “Congratulations, Charles. You will make a fine [Paladin].”
His friend seemed to be uncomfortable with the words. He shrugged, looking away slightly. “My father would be happier if I had achieved a different [Class], but the gods do not always decide…” Charles paused, a mildly horrified look crossing over his face. “I apologize. I just always thought it would be you going out into the world while I cared for things here. This morning was a shock to all of us.”
Clay gave Charles a wry smile. “Yeah, you could say that.” His father gave him a stern look; Sam had always had very little patience with anything that looked like jealousy, and he wasn’t going to make an exception here. He nodded before looking back at Charles. “So, what brings you out this way? I would have thought that your father would already be fitting you out with armor.”
“He’s already made an appointment with the smith for tomorrow morning, actually.” Charles seemed embarrassed to admit the fact, but he pressed on regardless. “In fact, he has decided that since Pellsglade will be sending the five of us to the capital together, it would serve the kingdom best if he outfitted all of us. It will make for safer travel on the road.”
He could read well enough between the lines. Baron Pellsglade was worried about Charles’ safety, and if he had to outfit a bunch of would-be adventurers to make sure Charles survived, he would. The baron wasn’t a bad person, just a narrowly focused one. Some might call him petty, but he had always been fine with allowing Charles to share his childhood with those other nobles would have called his inferiors. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. I would be worried for you all out there. The world is a dangerous place.”
“It is.” Charles nodded slowly and turned his gaze away slightly. “I had thought to persuade my father to include you in our party. We would need someone to help us with the camp and everything… but he said that it would be risky to bring you. That if they dispatched us on a quest, you would have to travel home alone. I’m sorry.”
Part of Clay felt a little insulted. He would have been nothing but a servant, one that would fetch and carry for the more important people on the journey. Another part of him saw what Charles had really intended, though, and appreciated it. He reached across the table and grabbed Charles’ forearm, meeting his eyes when the [Paladin] looked back at him. “Thank you. I mean it.”
Charles gave him a half-hearted smile. “All the same, I was able to persuade him to reward you with something as well. To help you start out your new life.” The words seemed clumsy, almost awkward, and Charles’ face grew red. “It seemed wrong to spoil the five of us and leave you with nothing. He agreed, after some…discussion.”
Clay’s first instinct was to refuse the gift, but another stern look from his father silenced him before he could. Instead, he thought it over and smiled. Charles had fought with his father to get whatever it was for him. To deny his friend the opportunity to leave him something would be ungrateful. “Again, I’m grateful you’re looking out for me. It means a lot.”
“It is still a poor exchange for…well, enough of that.” Charles fished in his travelsack for a moment, eventually drawing out a scroll of parchment. “My father has entrusted a deed for some land to you. A barren plot, but one that he hopes you will be able to clear and farm. He’ll even supply you with some coin in the meantime.”
Clay took the parchment, his eyes wide. He looked at his father, who smiled proudly. “That’s very generous of you, Sir Charles. Please let your father know that we appreciate his gift.”
“I will.” Charles leaned across the table and extended his hand. “I wish you could go with us, Clay, but at least the village will have you here to look after it. It makes me feel better, knowing that.”
He took Charles’ hand, shaking it firmly. “I’ll do my best, Charles. Good fortunes, and a safe journey.”
“And to you.” Charles pushed himself up from the table and offered them a small, graceful bow. “Until next we meet.”
Clay watched him go and then turned back to the parchment in his hand. A new farm, all his own? Maybe the future wasn’t looking so bad after all.
The next day, Clay looked over his new ‘farm’ and had to reassess his view of the baron’s graciousness.
His father and mother were with him, and by their expressions they were feeling slightly less grateful for the ‘gift’ the baron had given him. Sam looked doubtfully over the fields and grimaced a little. “Well, you’ll always have a meal at home, son.”
“Thanks, Dad.” He might very well need it for quite a while. Charles had not been exaggerating when he mentioned that the place was abandoned. Clay couldn’t see any large rocks or other obstacles in the fields, but that was mostly because he could barely see any of the fields themselves. Young trees and old weeds choked the entire farm. Tall sagegrass competed with thickets of sablethorn bushes, creating a wild tangle that promised to be hard work to remove. Deep within that mess, he could barely see the outline of an old, dilapidated farmhouse, with the wooden roof half collapsed inward and the chimney crumbling.
Of course, the state of fields was only one problem. Clay was used to clearing land and picking out the weeds and stones that could cause problems. It was more the location that threatened his peace of mind, because his brand new home was tucked right up against the Tanglewood.
There had been a time when the Tanglewood had been no more offensive than any of the woods that bordered most of the farms around Pellsglade. The occasional wild beast and poaching fox were hardly a real hardship for the majority of the farms in the area, and everyone was more than ready to deal with them.
That time was now long past. Something had taken root in the Tanglewood, twisting it into something darker, something more dangerous. Farmers had been abandoning the area since Clay had been young, and those who hadn’t had often come out to find their cattle dead under mysterious circumstances. More ominous were those who simply stopped coming into town. A farm near the Tanglewood was a bold risk, or a foolhardy move, depending on who you talked to.
All in all, it spoke to a certain…lack of gratitude on the baron’s part. Maybe he held a grudge for Clay’s part in helping his son become a [Paladin], or maybe it was simply a bit of miserly resentment at having to part with any land at all, but the farm was clearly a means to have Clay out of town and out of mind—perhaps permanently.
His mother was looking over the new ‘farm’ with a sour expression. Amelia Evergreen was not a fool, and it was clear that she didn’t think much of the baron’s gift, either. She eyed the nearby stretch of the Tanglewood with deep suspicion and seemed to come to a decision. “You can take your time working on this, son. For now, you can come back home and sleep with us. You might… rest better.”
Clay smiled a little. “Thanks, Mom, I appreciate it.” He looked over the half-concealed farmhouse, wondering how long it would take him to clear the place. It might be a few days before he could even reach the front door. Then he sighed. “Well, I suppose there’s only one way through it.”
Sam nodded, his expression full of sympathy. “We’ll be here for you, son. Just let us know.”
Clay nodded at him and then climbed down from the cart and stomped back to retrieve his tools from the back. The sickle, shovel, axe, and hoe seemed a bit underwhelming compared to the task, but he had no other way to go about things. The only way out, this time, was through.
Three days later, Clay stood sweating and panting at the front door of his house, stretching sore muscles and looking over the insubstantial words that floated in front of him.
{Might increased by 1! Fortitude increased by 1!}
He grimaced at the notification and dismissed it. It was the second time both [Might] and [Fortitude] had increased as he sweated under the sun. His [Will] had gone up once as well, when he staggered into the field on the second day after the hour-long walk to reach the place. Apparently, clearing an entire field by himself was good practice for raising at least some of his [Stats], even if he was only a [Commoner].
Of course, life had been busy for the rest of his generation as well. The five newly created adventurers had spent the time preparing to leave, gathering belongings and saying farewells. Enessa had dropped by to laugh with him over the work and give him a sincere hug. Charles had visited as well, taking the time to help cut down a tree. Word in the village was that he’d had an argument with his father afterwards; Clay could only hope that it hadn’t been about the state of his new home.
Even Maribel and the twins had come by, though all of them had been awkward and hadn’t said much. It was clear that they had expected him to be leaving with them, and didn’t know how to respond when reality had confronted them. For his part, he had wished them well, and then settled back into his bitter, unhappy labor.
His feelings of resentment and anger had not dimmed at all. Clay had hoped that the hard work would have lessened them, but it had utterly failed. For three days, he’d spent hours full of chopping, digging and pulling every weed, thornbush, and tree between him and the house. It was brutal, tiring work under a bright sun, all of which was bookended between the hour-long walk it took to reach the farm from his father’s house. He ended each day in an exhausted sprawl and began it with his siblings poking him out of bed. The only thing that had kept him going was the poisonous determination to not let the field beat him.
Now, as he stared at the dilapidated mess that represented the place where he was supposed to sleep, he heaved a massive sigh. His friends had left that morning on their journey to the capital, and he was going to spend the day ripping out the weeds growing between his half-rotten floorboards.
Clay turned around and sat down on the doorstep. The flat stone was warm, but he hardly noticed as he leaned back against the doorpost. He looked up into a blue sky half-covered in clouds. It didn’t look like rain would come today, but he was sure that one of these days he would chop through underbrush in a driving rain. At least it would be something different than the normal grind.
His jaw clenched in frustration, and he looked out over the field again. Was this going to be the rest of his life? Raising his [Stats] through backbreaking work until some monster wandered out of the Tanglewood and ate him? He’d dreamed of so much more, of being a hero that would make things better for his family, for the village, maybe even for the kingdom. Now he was just hoping to have a place to lie down without having a thornbush in the same room.
What else could he do, though? A [Commoner] wasn’t meant for adventures. [Commoners] lived quiet, boring, vulnerable lives, protected by those the gods had chosen for better things. If he had good enough fortune and worked hard all his life, he might even live long enough to die of old age. Is that what he was promised for doing everything they expected him to do? Was that what the Trickster had wanted him to do? Just follow the rules and die after a life full of quiet desperation?
His tired mind continued in a few more discontented thoughts, particularly griping to himself about sablethorn bushes, when he realized that something was wrong. It took his weary brain a few more moments to think it through, but when he finally realized it, he sat bolt upright in shock. The Trickster was expecting him to follow the rules? That sounded… uncharacteristic.
Clay frowned, his thoughts going down a new path. He had assumed that his [Class] had been a punishment of some kind. Perhaps it had been, but he doubted the Trickster would aim for just one thing. But if the Trickster wanted Clay to make the world better, how would a [Commoner] do anything else? It wasn’t like he was going to be leveling up by chopping through bushes or pulling weeds.
Then his gaze wandered over to the east, where the Tanglewood waited at the edge of his land. The Tanglewood, where monsters lived. Monsters, which any [Class], from [Paladins] to [Mages] to [Calculators] could kill to level up. Any [Class]…
An idea began to form. It took him a while of arguing with himself, but in his heart, he’d already decided. He wasn’t going to work himself to death on the farm, not when he had the chance to do something more. Not if there was a chance to make more of a difference in the world.