My new clothes were felt odd after the old jedi-chic that I had gotten used to. They were something between an oriental Gi; with the glossy finish, lack of seams anywhere except the openings for my body, and stylistic flourishes; and a loose fitted Gi. All of it fitted to a five year old body. Also, I’m 5 now. Something about the trip was enough to push me over the edge, though my father’s explanation about milestones only left me confused. I preferred my mother’s explanation that I was just a ‘very mature child’.

Getting older had the same effects of making everything I did easier that it did last time, which made sense with my stats going up, but it also made it easier to notice how different my parents looked than me. My mother’s skin had a yellowish tint that, when combined with her flat black hair, gave her an Asian look despite her bright green eyes. Similarly my father, while having a skin tone that was closer to the ‘somewhat tanned’ look that I had, had bright blue eyes and hair of a golden brown. How that resulted in a skin tone that was muddier than either of my parents and eyes that seemed to be creeping closer to black, that was one thing I didn’t know. I may not be a geneticist but I remember Mendel’s Squares and enough about dominant/recessive physical traits to realize the impossibility of it.

Part of me thought I should just go with it and not worry too much. They obviously cared for me like parents and that was what really mattered. Part of me, though, couldn’t get past thinking about it. Since my parents usually spent time with me separately while the other was away, or were being gross and lovey with each other when they both were around, I hadn’t had a chance to bring it up with them both. It felt wrong to go to one or the other separately. But here they were, getting me ready to go to a big fancy party (one that neither of them could be troubled to attend), and my hesitation was currently losing out to that nagging feeling that there was more to this than just this world’s version of genetics being weird.

It had gotten so bad that I had stopped really paying attention to what my parents were saying, frustratingly. It was especially annoying since my mother was doing this weird thing where she was both proud of how I looked and what type of impression I would make and also icy cold toward everyone I would be impressing while trying to say that none of this mattered. Mom is usually so controlled that Dad and I always take pleasure at finding ways to break her out of that blank façade; and here she is tripping all over herself without either of us having to do anything!

I finally just blurted it out, interrupting my father’s attempt to calm his wife down and hold back his mirth to reasonable levels. “Guys, am I adopted?” The result was a confused look on my mother’s brow and my father reeled back like he had been slapped.

Mom composed herself first. “No. You are the naturally born child of our pairing. Why do you doubt this?”

I looked from her more neutral to my father’s shocked face before answering. “It’s just, I don’t look a lot like you. My skin, my hair, my eyes… how can my eyes be dark brown when yours are green and blue? Also, are my eyes getting darker? That shouldn’t be possible, so maybe I just didn’t notice until my wisdom got a boost from leveling up? But really, shouldn’t inheritance of characteristics still work even with the weird type of stuff that passes for anatomy around here? I mean…”

My mother cut off my rambling with a soft smile that I honestly didn’t think I had ever seen before. “Honey, you do resemble us. You have the shape of my eyes, your father’s jaw and cheekbones; but more than this is how you have your fathers inquisitive curiosity and my focus and dedication. Look at the contents of your hand.” She commanded, and I glanced town at the marble that I was absently moving back and forth and sometimes even upward with nothing more than magic and a bit of whatever spare focus I wasn’t using on other things. “You were curious at the magic that we used and, rather than accepting it, decided to investigate it just like your father would. But your focus has not strayed due to distractions, even when you knew of the current impossibility of your goal, but you pressed on toward that day when your goals would be possible. While I wish you a more peaceful path, I am quite proud of your dedication to the goals you have chosen.”

My father seemed to have been jolted out of his fugue by something that one of us had said because he chose this moment to intervene. “Amazing! I wouldn’t have expected this at all! Why, I bet you haven’t put that toy down even once since you woke this morning! And all of it completely voluntarily done by your own will!”

“Honey.” My mother said in a warning tone that did little to calm him down.

“But his Volatility shouldn’t be high enough to notice this sort of thing! Not without some sort of boost from a birth boon, at least! He must have been doing nothing but training! All the time! How? Why? Isn’t it…”

“Dear.” My mother interrupted more forcefully with the beginnings of a death glare in his direction.

This time he got the message and composed himself before continuing. “Right. Well to answer your question, certain characteristics are inherited, though there is some debate on the mechanisms behind how…” Another glare came his way. “Er, right. Some things are inherited while a lot of other aspects to your body reflect the developed reality of your Soul. Eye, hair, and skin color refer back to the three great philosophies; respectively Guide, Heights, and Earth and Sky. The more the allegiance the brighter or more startling the coloration. It is quite interesting that you would point those three things out in your earlier question.” Another glare, this one mostly ignored. “Other things; like facial shape, unusual bodily features, and personality traits; are inherited more directly.”

I listened intently before speaking up. “So, ‘Color Coded for Your Convenience’?” I asked. “All the good little Deists have brightly colored eyes while the Humanist Nazis are startlingly blonde?”

He weighed my question for a moment before answering. “In a manner of speaking, though some follow multiple ideals or are defined by how they stand against an ideal instead. Watch out for anyone who is decidedly ugly, they actively and sometimes violently reject the ideals that other simply choose not to dwell upon.”

“So evil is ugly? Whoever designed this world decided to include all the tropes, didn’t they?” I answered, then glanced between my parent’s confused faces. “What?”

My dad looked toward my mom before speaking. “Well, its just an unusual response. Most people aren’t so… ‘nonchalant’ about how everyone’s allegiances are so clear to anyone who might want to look.”

“I mean, it could be worse. People’s clothes could automatically change colors to reflect whatever place they work for.” I answered, then thought better of it. “Uh, that doesn’t actually happen, does it?”

My father gave a short laugh, “No, although you can tell people’s stats by looking at them!”

I started to roll my eyes, then noticed his serious expression. “Wait, really?”

He nodded before his voice went into ‘teacher mode’. “Yes, people with high Strength are tall, Dexterity are toned, Constitution are thick, and Charisma are oddly even proportioned. There is even the theory that our bodies change to accommodate our stats, while many others believe that it is more likely that our stats force the change on our bodies; though the accommodation still happens regardless of the mechanisms. Taller people can leverage their output, their ‘strength’ more easily; for example. Or you could recognize that the larger bulk allows those with higher Constitution to take more punishment.”

Mom sighed loudly as he continued his rant. I found what he was saying to be really interesting but also recognized that it was mostly going over my head. I also might have zoned out a little bit.

“… and so, due to the generally uniform nature of humanity, despite the extremes that some people take their stats, it becomes clear that the changes merely reflect the internal rather than being tied to it by any needful circumstance!”

My Mom chose this point to speak up. “Dear, would you restrain yourself from confusing our five year old son.” It was not a question, but a command.

“Yeah,” I interjected, “Maybe write it down so I can read it later? Also, what about Intelligence and Wisdom; how does that show is people’s bodies?”

Mother gave both of us an annoyed look.

“Those are less obvious,” Dad answered without giving any indication that he noticed the death glare. “You have to look for the concentration of Mana to guess at someone’s Intelligence. As for Wisdom, while there are more determinative reflections of it, the easiest method is to watch how quickly they react to things. There is a reason why some people misname the ‘Volatility’ stat as ‘senses’.”

“But isn’t the Dexterity stat more about quickness and reflexes?” I asked, a bit interested in this new revelation.

“Just because you are physically fast enough to react doesn’t mean you notice that you need to react; and just because you see that you need to act in some way doesn’t mean you are capable of acting upon that information. In this way having unusually low stats is a particular detriment. The overall effect, after all, is an exponential rise of the difference between your average stats and the outlier. The ratio, of course, is important in determining the basic multiplier; but you can see how particularly extreme examples of stat imbalance can be completely unworkable. Training can overcome some of this, of course, but no skill multiplier can bypass the impediments of a naturally negative stat.” He answered with a nod.

I nodded back. “I’ll be honest: I'm not sure what use this all is, but it definitely sounds really smart!”

He continued without pause. “The same thing can happen with higher stats, but the lack of a ceiling simply means that the boons of those abilities are largely blunted or that accidents are more likely to occur. Though there is a way to utilize that imbalance to…”

“Honey.” Mom interjected forcefully, her lowered voice completely stopping Dad’s speech. “Please stop telling our son, our FIVE YEAR OLD SON, how to effectively incapacitate people based on their stats alone.”

He looked back at her and then me a bit sheepishly.

“But this sounds really interesting and cool!” I complained.

Mom took another deep breath before speaking down to me. “Honey, I’m certain that there will be some point in your life where this understanding will be necessary. Today, I pray, will not be that day. However, if this be not truly a non-confrontational affair, do let me know as soon as possible.” She gave me a thin lipped smile with just enough implied threat to remind me how that neither I nor my father wanted to see her mad.

Dad was frowning at her words when I looked at him but he said nothing and looked away. It spoke more clearly about so many things than any words could. I kind of wished I knew what those ‘things’ were. There was something clearly important going on that I didn’t know but neither of my parents seemed to want to talk about it.

I waited a few moments before I realized that she wanted a response. “Uh… Sure Mom. I’ll tell you if anything happens. But really, why should anything happen? It’s just a fancy party. I’m not even a main guest, I’m just going with Franklin as his ‘plus one’.”

“I still see no value in such vain conglomerations of those creatures.” My Mother spoke her objection, then continued before my Father could speak up. “Though I do recognize that avoiding certain types of people is an untenable desire. Just…” She hesitated, almost looking lost before regaining her neutral mask and continuing. “…Tell me, what brought on your question about adoption? Even if we were not the ones who sired and gave birth to you, it would not change our love and devotion nor would it make us any less of a true family.”

I nodded. “I know that. You would still be my parents either way. I was just worried that what I didn’t know would come back at the most annoying time. Like, maybe one of my birth parents was a Supervillian or a Terrorist or a Ninja Robot Assassin or something. Like they actually assassinate robots, not that they are a robot, because then how could they have kids? Except, or… Dad, I’m not half robot, am I?”

He gave a slight smirk as he answered. “No. Both your Mother and I are quite fleshy, thank you very much.”

Mom just stared at me with her mouth gaping, all composure completely lost.

There was a knock on the door.

“Honey… Dear… How? Who have you…” Mom started trying to say something but my attention was on the fact that Franklin was finally here.

“I’ll get the door!” I called out and rushed off. The added height I had gotten by reaching 5 made reaching the doorknob much easier than it had been before. Franklin, he doesn’t like being called frank, stood in a relaxed position right outside. Behind him was his ever present bodyguard.

Leveling up had given me new eyes, almost literally, so I noticed a few things that I hadn’t seen before. Franklin was stocky, but not in an unhealthy way, and the neatness of his appearance made me think there was something more to it then just being a tidy personality. Especially since I knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t exactly contentious when it came to his trash or anything else that was not an immediate concern. So high Con and Cha perhaps? I knew the Constitution guess was correct but wasn’t sure about the other. But then the cut of his clothes made him look like he had real muscle tone, but I knew that he was a couch potato when he could get away with it. So maybe figuring out people by how they looked was going to be a bit difficult? And while his eyes were grey and his skin somewhat tanned, his hair was a deep honey brown that caught my eye despite his classic side-part hairstyle. He looked like a mini-business man, all truth be told. I wondered if he had really good shampoo or if the depth of his hair color was indicative of his ideals, whatever that was supposed to mean.

His bodyguard, who preferred to go by the pseudonym ‘nameless’, just looked big. Tall, broad shouldered, muscled; but all of this compacted in such a way that he didn’t seem awkward with his size. He was sufficiently covered in his secret agent getup to hide a lot of details beyond this. His skin was tanned, but not eye-catchingly so. His hair was brown, what could be seen of it, and almost completely hidden beneath a Cossack in a muted black. His eyes were completely hidden by sunglasses. The rest of him wore a nondescript black suit. So, maybe his stats were focused on Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution? If the idea that my Father was trying to communicate came across correctly, than that made sense; but he also had a mana glow that was more prominent that made me think Intelligence and was orderly enough in appearance to make me think Charisma as well. His nonreactiveness made it hard to guess about his Wisdom score. Meh, maybe I'm thinking too much into this.

“Distracted?” Franklin asked. “Were you going to let us in?”

I rolled my eyes and opened the door wider for them. “Sorry about that. I’ve just been talking with my parents about how you can actually see people’s stats by looking at them. I never really thought about it before, how people are reflected in how they look. I’ve always been more of a ‘you can’t judge a book by its cover’ sort of person.”

He smiled as he walked in. “Hold that thought. I have yet to make greetings with the Man and Woman of the house.”

I looked up in time to see my Dad hold out his hand for a shake with my Mom close by his side.

What followed after that was random empty pleasantries that neither myself nor my Mother wanted anything to do with, but during which we both remained cordial and responsive when addressed. This was very much more my Father and Franklin’s thing and we were happy to let them do it.

What waited outside was some hybrid between a box on wheels and a carriage without the need of a horse or driver. I could tell that it was fancy, with gold filigree and all white angles and windows, but really the only thing I could say by looking at it was how delicate, almost flimsy, the whole contraption looked. This look was, apparently, a purposeful design decision by the creator and added significant cost in both the construction and the artwork of the vehicle. I had mentioned how useless this vehicle seemed but apparently either you entered by flight, teleportation, or a fancy vehicle if you didn’t want to be treated like hired help. I therefore deferred to Franklin’s much greater knowledge on the subject.

Eventually I let him lead me out once his pleasantries had been concluded. As soon as we were seated Franklin raised an eyebrow in my direction. “So why not?” he asked.

“Why not what?” I asked back, not sure what we had been talking about before.

“Why can’t you ‘judge a book by its cover’?” My earlier comment had been an offhand thing, but he seemed to be taking it very seriously.

I shrugged. “It’s just a saying from my old world. I means that you can’t judge the quality of something by how it is first presented. Appearances can be deceiving, after all.”

“They can be, but they aren’t always. Everyone has to start somewhere and presentation has meaningful implications.” He stated, then decided to continue when I gave him a dubious look. “On the subject of books would you expect an instruction manual and a work of fiction to look the same?”

“Well no,” I answered, “but that doesn’t make it a quality instruction book.”

“True, but it does give you meaningful information that narrows your search when looking for a certain type of book.”

I nodded and frowned, not liking the implications of what he was saying.

“Even among books of the same genera you can tell differences by what is on the cover. I, for one, stay far away from my mother’s favorites for no other reason than the promises made by a book cover decorated with half clothed men being fawned upon by equally unattired women.”

I nodded slowly, “But what does that have to do with people?” I asked, trying to turn the subject to something I found more relevant.

“Even if the presentation is a lie, the way a person presents themselves tells you a lot about a them. What they want others to think when seeing them, how much effort they put into their appearance, or even more direct things like their basic attributes.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” I asked. “It just doesn’t seem like your normal thing? You know?”

He gave me a bit of a frown. “I had similar questions when hitting Five, the same as yourself. Increasing my stats by such a significant amount and being experienced enough to understand what was happening, brought up a number of questions.”

“Hu,” I responded. “I always thought you were mostly Charisma focused on your build, with maybe some Constitution on the side. I didn’t expect you to have much focus on Wisdom with all that.”

He gave me an appraising look, then an eye roll before answering. “True. I might not focus on Wisdom but I do need it in my Charisma based build. You can’t react to things you don’t notice.” He gave an introspective look while glancing down. Just as quickly he waved away those thoughts to get back on track. “We each use our stats differently and get different things from them. But after a while I began to notice things that, you could say, were not quite right.”

“What do you mean, ‘we get different things’?” I asked, not quite getting how the same number could mean different things.

“Well… An example would be your sparing. I’ve seen you react to things that I couldn’t perceive, despite being sure that my Wisdom was higher than yours. Meanwhile you barely noticed that I never wear the same items of clothing twice.” He gave a bit of a smile at his barb.

I rolled my eyes. It was one time that I asked him about that. Once. And now he was determined to never let me live it down.

He gave a smirk at my reaction before going on. “Similarly I use my Charisma to cement the reaction that people have toward me while you will likely use the same stat for something combat related, like everything else that you do.”

I nodded. “Harsh, but true.” Then continued without pausing, “So what did you think when you first looked at me?”

He hummed a second, glancing me up and down. “Your clothes were simple but sturdy and they were truly yours.” He said, with the emphasis on ‘yours’ having the connotation that I had claimed them as my own rather than just wearing them. “They were easy to move in and spoke of unassuming quality, but not of showmanship. That, combined with the focus you had on that marble of yours, made it clear that you were an upfront type of person who had more important things to focus on than making people think you had important things to focus on.” It was a ball bearing, not a marble, but I guess the rest of his observations were true enough.

I furrowed my eyebrows. “You got all that just by looking at me?”

He nodded. “You can tell a lot about a person by how they present themselves; how they choose to present themselves. Not everything, mind you, but enough.”

What he said sounded surreal. How could he just know all this stuff just by looking at me, even with his stats as low as they were compared to an adults? I had no misconception on how I stood up in comparison to grownups. Row’s stats were so high that he couldn’t even fight me. Not wouldn’t, couldn’t. He simply could not slow himself down and hold himself back enough to teach me at my level of ability. That was apparently one reason why he had his chimera: so that they could fight while he stood back and evaluated what his student needed to work on.

Silence reigned for a minute or two before I spoke up. Not out of a feeling of discomfort, Franklin was quite companionable despite the silence, but because my mind caught up with something that he had said. “So you mentioned that you noticed something that threw everything out of whack?” I asked. “What happened?”

He sighed. “I noticed some… discrepancies.” He glanced at his bodyguard “This one is focused on Speed and Defense, at least in how they approach combat, while their stats are actually geared toward Constitution and Strength, not Dexterity.” The bodyguard scowled but remained silent. Franklin waved off the implied complaint and continued, “And yet if you were to look at them you might think they were a demigod of perfection when it comes to their abilities. I noticed others with similar discrepancies.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Doesn’t that go back to my point about not ‘judging by appearances’?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Only if you are willing to give up at the first setback. Most of those people with oddities were hiding their true abilities, either deliberately or unconsciously. You can tell a lot by seeing what people present but a lot more once you can see how that relates to the truth of them. Sometimes those match, often they are a bit off, but always it is meaningful.”

I gave him another look. This was way more than I would ever think about when examining how people dressed and such. For better or worse, I mostly just didn’t care. No, it wasn’t so much that I didn’t care as that I didn’t want to care. Caring about how people looked and what that meant would bring up uncomfortable questions.

Some of those questions were even so easy that I could answer them without thinking. Like, why do gamers end up split between fat and skinny gamers? Mostly it is about how much they graze while playing, or completely forget to eat, and how high energy they are while playing. Why are there very few people in between? Because a true gaming obsession pushes people to the extremes. And does that relate to why would I want to live in a video game world after I died? That… is not something I want to think about. Most questions eventually loop back to uncomfortable realizations, so I try not to think about them.

A minute or so passed before Franklin spoke to me. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

I let out a huff and let my mouth wonder off in a completely different direction from what I had been trying to avoid only moments before. “You just think you can tell things about people by how they look because you do that all the time anyway!”

He looked momentarily taken aback, but his words showed that it was in a different direction than I would have thought. “Yeah, of course. It has worked out pretty well for me.”

“But… I mean…” I felt like I needed to say something but wasn’t at all sure what to say. “That just wasn’t how people did things, back before. I mean… people sometimes did it anyway, and they were usually looked down on, but…” letting out a groan of exasperation. I didn’t think the two of us were arguing but it still felt like I was loosing. “I don’t know!” I finally admitted with raised hands.

He gave a bit of a smirk but it seemed to be in good humor and was gone almost immediately as I groaned in defeat. Apparently, though, he hadn’t had enough of the conversation yet. “So then what was it like for you before? I can’t imagine that people dressed or acted in ways that didn’t reflect something about them, even if things weren’t as clearly demonstrated as some things are on Paradise.”

I tried to organize my thoughts for a few moments before answering back, while also taking a few moments to calm down. Franklin waited patiently till I finally spoke up. “The idea that you can look at people and think you know something about them, even if it is just that they want you to think certain things, is completely backwards to how things were in my old world. But I just don’t know how to argue against it.” I sighed in resignation. “I guess the classic example is the idea that just because a girl dresses sluttily doesn’t mean she is a slut.” I held up my hand before he could speak. “I know, I know; the obvious response to that is to ask what she wants people to think when dressed like that. I just don’t know what to think.”

Franklin deliberated for a few seconds before answering. “Maybe she just wants people to treat her like she is attractive and either doesn’t know or care about the type of attraction she is creating. Maybe she doesn’t know any other way to dress up when she wants to look nice.” Then he let out a sad huff of air. “Or yes, maybe she actually does want to act like someone who can be easily taken advantage of so that she will feel no guilt when taking advantage of others for herself.” He shook his head and continued. “However it is, it tells you something.”

I shook my head at that and decided to give up on this line of thinking. “I guess I’ll just have to let you do your thing.”

“I guess you will.” He answered back with a smirk.

The next few minutes were filled with banter, of which I thoroughly lost, and attempted horseplay, which he conceded before it could truly begin. The building was not all that interesting looking as we approached, though it was obvious from the people arriving that we were at the right place.

The place truly reminded me that this was a completely different world. I caught sight of one or two people flying overhead and an entire section where people seemed to pop into existence, but what really caught my eye were the others arriving by more mundane means. We were not the only carriage arriving, some of them looked like they would be at home in a Disney movie or alternately something by Edgar Allen Poe. Some arrived riding beasts that ranged from rainbow lions to snow covered unicorn-pegasus. There was a spider-robot with extendable legs and a lady being carried by a swarm of pink butterflies.

It honestly kind of reminded me of what it looked like when a group of long time players in a game went somewhere with their diverse and crazy mounts. I didn’t know if that made me feel better or just made everything less magical, but at least it was less overwhelming.

Getting inside wasn’t difficult, there were multiple doors leading into individual vestibules where I assumed that some sort of ticket or identification would be presented to prove that we were supposed to be here. My friend’s bodyguard left us at that point, the establishment would apparently take care of everything including security, and he went off to do his own thing. The interior seemed sparse but comfortable, with numerous plants lining the walls and a single servant standing wait. That was, of course, where the first hiccup happened.

“Welcome, Young Master, I am pleased to see that you have decided to grace us with your presence this fine evening.” The man, who looked like some sort of weird butler, said while staring straight at me. There was a moment of silence as I wondered who this person was and why he would focus directly on me.

“Um…” I answered as eloquently as I was able, mostly due to being completely not sure what to even say. I mean, if it were a normal butler than that would be no big deal, but the way this guy was dressed… Imagine a stereotypical black butler’s uniform, but done up with all the unnecessary frills and accents that you might find on a maid’s dress. Then take all of that to eleven with just enough straight cut lines and hanging coattails to harken back to that original butler’s clothing. What was I even supposed to say to a man who was fancier than a third of the women who were arriving in this obvious fantasy world party?

I mean, I shouldn’t judge him for it. Especially after the conversation that I just had. But that is easier said then done sometimes. Mostly I was just confused on why he was talking with me.

Thankfully Franklin spoke up. “My name is Franklin Everbeazer and I bring my friend, William Townsen, to join us today.” His voice carried a bit of a waver to it that betrayed an insecurity borne of being brushed off so completely.

The butler glanced at Franklin with his eyes but did not turn from me. “Very well.” He was still speaking in my direction, but at least he spared a glance at both of us. “Will you be joining us regularly or do you have business with some attending party?”

“Uh…” I answered eloquently, “Neither? I’m not sure.” I nodded toward my friend, “He seems to like these things so I thought I would tag along to see what it was like.”

He nodded slowly. “Very well. If you give us notice next time, provisions can be made for greater comfort. In the meantime I have been informed that a young lady will join you inside to see to your needs. She is well paid and familiar with all the services available today and those that can be added with sufficient request. Please enjoy your evening.” He then turned to an interior double door, which opened automatically, and quickly ushered us through.

Inside was Narnia. I don’t know how else to describe it. The entire building had seemed the size of a small warehouse from the outside, barely a hundred feet or so deep cubed structure, while the inside looked to be an entire rain-forest complete with a waterways, fields of tree shaded open areas, and what looked like mountains in the distance. Also there was a buffet and seating tables to one side and several bands playing around different sections of the expanse. There was a tiled section that seemed set aside for dancing and cloth screens dotted the landscape for those who wished to speak privately.

“So when you talked about this party I honestly pictured something more along the lines of ‘Beauty and the Beast’ than ‘Jumanji’. I know you mentioned that there were themes for these things, but is it always so ‘over the top’?” I asked.

“Honestly. What was that back there?” He asked, ignoring my question. “Do you have any idea what was going on with that guy?”

I shook my head and smiled, absolutely certain that the weirdness was about to get worse and gearing myself up to see where it went. “Nope! None whatsoever!”

He looked like he wanted to say something more when we were approached by a six year old in a maid costume that matched the clothes of the servers and other workers. “Good day to you. My name is Sarah and it will be a pleasure to serve you today.”

“Uh, what?” I asked, my brain freezing as I tried to figure out what was going on. She was cute, and seemed friendly, but also looked like she was physically capable of breaking my arm if I tried anything. It was a bit freaky in a way that just shouldn’t be on someone so young. So I guess she has somewhat extreme levels of Con and possibly some Dex? She didn’t seem that tall but she did look to be older than either of us. I mean, I remembered that a servant was going to follow me around; I just expected them to be a little, or actually a lot, older.

She had something of a professional detached demeanor about her but it cracked under my confused gaze. “Er, um, I follow you around and get you stuff? Mostly my job is to stand next to you to make you look important. Um. Mister? Er… Sir?”

I nodded, still a bit weirded out by being followed by a child. “Yeah, I get that, but why?”

Franklin nodded along with me, seeming in full agreement of my unimportance.

She mirrored my confusion. “Because they told me to? Someone told me you are important, so that’s why I’m here.”

I turned to my friend, voicing my theories on the big ‘why’. “Kidnapping attempt?” I asked. “Someone wants to keep me safe, maybe?”

He shook his head. “I doubt it. My dad couldn’t find much, so it doesn’t seem like your parents would have the type of pull for something like that. And who else would care? I looked up your teacher and, while he does have connections and a good position, nothing like what it would take to get you a servant at one of these things. They didn’t even let me bring my bodyguard! She would have been more than capable of looking out for the both of us! This child isn’t exactly the more capable of the two.”

A quiet voice spoke from the side. “Um, is everything ok? I don’t need to worry about kidnapping or something, do I?”

“I can’t think of who else it might be. I haven’t exactly been the most outgoing person. Maybe it was that lady who helped and seemed interested in me? She called herself Beladora. I never got the name of the other guy but he looked vaguely familiar, like someone I had seen before.” I answered back.

He sighed. “And I’m telling you that name doesn’t exist. Not in this town. Whoever she is, she wants to keep a low profile and gave you a fake name. She could be anyone. She could even be the Grand Martial, for all we know!”

“Uh, do I need to be worried? Is some scary lady coming after you? I’m supposed to protect you, but I can’t really do all that much…” A tiny voice spoke up, easily ignored for how it blended into the background.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right. Why would someone like that care about me.” I shook my head and turned back toward the troubled girl. “Don’t worry. Nothing bad will probably happen. I don’t usually have weird people popping up out of nowhere and coming after me. That was a one-time thing.”

Franklin smirked. “What about the alleyway?” he interjected.

“A two-time thing.” I corrected. “It only happened twice. It could have happened to anyone!”

“Anyone?” Franklin butted in with an evil twinkle in his eye, “I’ve never even heard of it happening once. People usually know better topside. Maybe underneath, but not under the sun.”

A small voice trembled slightly. “I’m from underneath. Are people going to try to steal me too?”

“Don’t worry,” Franklin said, patting her shoulder reassuringly. “As long as your luck isn’t as bad as William, you should be ok.”

She did not look reassured.

I let out an unhappy sound at her obvious fear and addressed Franklin directly. “Not helping.” I spoke in a warning tone.

He just shrugged and stepped off to the side. He wasn’t silent, however. “She has a right to know what she is getting into, following you around like this.”

I sighed, holding back another unhappy look, and turned toward the girl. “Sarah? That is your name, right?” She nodded. “Can you get me something to eat. I have no idea what I want. Something that looks tasty, I guess?”

She nodded excitedly, seemingly glad to have a distraction, and sprinted off toward the food.

I turned back to Franklin. “Ok, spill? What’s the big deal?”

He frowned before explaining. “I don’t like her.” I waved my hand for him to continue and he did. “Even if someone thinks you are important enough to make a big deal over, why send a kid? Why not an adult?” He gestured toward another group with a servant following them. “I’ll tell you why: Because she is a kid. Because we will think of her as a kid and treat her as one. I don’t like to deal with kids and I like even less to deal with whatever it is that someone wants that starts with this type of subtle manipulation.”

“Dude, we are kids.” I answered back.

“Are we?” He asked. “Sure, we look like kids and I can tell you that I feel much more like a kid than I like, but neither of us thinks like a kid.” He pointed toward the girl, who was getting help at the desert table from one of the other servants because she was too short to reach everything normally. “She is a child, through and through.” His word spoke of wallowing in immaturity and was filled with disdain.

I didn’t see what anyone would have to gain from doing all this; but then, franklin was much better at the social stuff than I was. “Do you think she is in on it?” I asked. It seemed more relevant than trying to figure out why some mysterious shadow entity would be mysterious from the shadows.

He snorted in contempt. “Of course not.” He answered. “Do you really think she could be trusted to hide that from us?”

I nodded. “Then it isn’t her fault.” I pointed out.

That managed to stop him in his tracks. “Er, no.” he responded in an embarrassed tone.

I nodded again. “Then lets at least not be too hard on her, ok?”

He nodded back but didn’t say a word. I could tell by the furrowing of his brow that he was thinking more on the subject, so I decided to leave him to it.

“Just be careful.” He finally said, but was silent after.

Presently the girl returned. Her food choices were interesting, to say the least. All of it was desert items and all of it was brightly colored. My stomach wanted something more substantial, since I don’t really eat all that often, but it was really my fault for not being more specific in my request. I thanked her, tried one of the pastries that was sitting next to the M&M/Skittles like offerings, and was pleasantly surprised. It was pretty good. Not good enough that I wouldn’t ask for something more specific next time, but definitely a worthwhile experience.

Franklin took the moment to try to make nice with Sarah, snatching a few of the small candied treats from my offered plate. “I hope you are ok. I didn’t scare you too badly, did I?”

She shook her head and I took a moment to look at her more closely while they talked about nothing. She was older than me, though not by much. Probably six to my five. Physically, however, she made me look like the scrawny kid who never got picked next to the bully who would repeatedly beat them up in between sessions at the bench press. She wasn’t fat, per say, but she was just extremely thick and covered in well-toned muscle. Not that it was easy to notice without looking for it due to her clothing. More than that, though, the girl held herself like a child who was far younger than I suspected her age to be, and a timid one at that; something that made it easy to overlook how physically solid she really was.

Also, she never once smiled. It was a small thing that weirdly stuck out to me, but not something that I knew what to think of it.

As the two of them talked I looked around at the many different groups of people and the sheer scope of the area they had available to occupy. It was then that I noticed another kid and his two friends walking in our direction. The leader looked slightly more mature than us or his two friends, but only in terms of age rather than personality. He looked to be dressed in princely robes, complete with a fur stole of crimson and white. The scowl on Franklin’s face when I pointed them out definitely didn’t boost my confidence.

“Just ignore him. If we are lucky he will go away.” My friend and guide to this fancy party finally replied. He stood tall with his side turned conspicuously toward the newcomer in a way that made it clear that he didn't even want to look in his direction.

“What is wrong with him?” I asked.

Franklin shook his head with a bit of a huff. “He just takes himself way too seriously and thinks that his status of being part of the upper class and such makes him so much better than everyone else.”

Technically we all lived on the surface, so that made everyone here ‘upper class’. Except for Sarah, I guess, but I only just met her and she was supposed to be some sort of servant as well. Enough of that, though, I had an oddly overdressed guy to deal with, which was saying something considering some of the people at this party. “So how is this going to go?”

The frown hadn’t moved. “He is going to come over, say something self-aggrandizing and petty, and then saunter off once he feels sufficiently recognized. Try not to let him have a reason to take any more interest and he should be gone fairly quickly.” He spoke quickly and in a hushed tone as the other group approached.

The standoff began as they walked up and I was immediately reminded of the various talks that I had been having with Franklin about not judging a person by their appearances. The guy just… He looked so very very stereotypical of a certain character archetype, it was hard not to assume the worst.

“Bonjour, my soon to be friend! It is so good to see someone else of such superb breeding and standing among this crowd of rich rabble. Your presence is an unexpected surprise and it would do me great pleasure to learn your name! I, of course, have no need of an introduction; it is simply common knowledge for those looking onto someone such as I.”

“Actually an introduction would be nice. I’m a bit new to these circles.”

“Oh, nonsense! There is no way that you aren’t acquainted with someone as famous and well connected as myself!” He spoke with the assurance borne of narcissistic insanity.

“Actually I would…” I began before being interrupted.

“My legend is like the winds and my favor is like the sky! All know, save those worms who have never basked in the light of knowledge! For them there is no reason for them to grasp above the compost heap!” What was all that even supposed to mean about the sky and winds and all that? The rest, though, just sounded incredibly insulting toward someone who just wanted to know this guy’s name; someone like me.

I gave him a flat look. Remember, self control is good. Going off on this guy was bad. For… reasons. There were very good reasons to not go off on this guy. I’m sure I will think of them soon.

I sighed, deciding to not take this guy too seriously or be bogged down by it, and looked over at Franklin for his input. I swear that I could see an eye twitch at the new guy’s antics. “His name is Richard.” He informed me, “and his friends are Aviam and Martog.” He nodded toward the two followers, marking Avaim as the physically smaller and mentally sharper of the two and Martog as the larger and most imposing of the trio. All three wore fancy clothing, at least more than Franklin and I, but Richard was the fanciest by a fair margin.

I nodded in appreciation before answering. “And I’m William Townsen.”

The annoying guy gave me a knowing smirk. “A relation to our esteemed leader of this fine town, then? It would make sense, then, the favor that is being shown to you.” He glanced significantly toward Sarah. “Good stock does make for good breeding, after all.”

“Uh, no. I don’t think so at least. My Dad is a researcher of some sort and my Mom works as an adventurer type. I think I would have been told if I were related to someone like that.”

He took the revelation surprisingly well. “Splendid! That means you must be a fifteen or a twenty at least! I myself am on that cusp of that upper end, as you well know, and only the servant is something so dreadful as a five.”

I turned toward Franklin. “Explanation?” I asked.

Franklin sighed before answering in a begrudging tone. “A lot of people start with something extra carried over from before. Extra stat points are most common, but other boons can be measured by the same metric.” He rolled his eyes and continued in deadpan. “There is a belief that the higher numbers come from a person having a stronger spirit, and that this means they will have a larger impact on the world.”

“My companion is right,” Richard cut in, “and if you did not pay extravagantly and are unrelated to someone of high standing, than the logical conclusion is that the powers have seen your potential and desire to court your favor.”

He looked me over with a discerning and disappointed eye. “And to be honest your attire, while of obvious quality, is not so richly appointed as to mark you as a person of means. Furthermore, if your description of your parents holds true, there is little that either of your parents could do that would mark them as anything of note.”

Was I just insulted? It brought a frown to my face. I guess I never really based my self-worth on being rich and having a well-known family, but the way he pointed it out made it seem somehow lessor that I didn’t have those things I didn’t actually care about.

“Not everyone makes such a fuss about money or lineage, Richard.” Franklin sniped back grumpily.

He took it without a care. “True, not all care for the raffinements de la vie. It is a privilege afforded only to those who can afford it.” I rolled my eyes at the gratuitous use of French. Seriously, why French? Why does that come across untranslated when everything else feels like it is in my native English?

“No, some of us have better things to do with our lives than meaningless posturing.” Hu. Something that actually makes my friend loose his cool? Up till now he has been completely unflappable, even when obviously annoyed. And I would know a think or two about annoying someone.

“Nor do I sit on my laurels, rather my achievements speak for themselves.” He continued on, immediately responding for whatever unknown reason. “Of course, I am not without my own accolades.” He began, and then continued by listing off a bunch of minor sounding awards and things that sounded like participation trophies of all things. And it didn’t stop. He just kept going. I was really trying not to assume the worst, but he was making it really very hard.

Finally, after what felt like five minutes of him praising himself, but was almost certainly less than one, I had enough. “Actually, yes!” I said in a fake tone of excitement. “I know exactly who you are! You are the rich young master: The son of a family that has great accomplishments to their name and expects that someday you may do something worthwhile as well! At least one of your parents has great personal accomplishments to their name, most of which are directly attributable to greater than average resources! And look! You are accompanied by your attendants, people from lessor but connected families! Their presence is definitely not due to an implied threat against their entire house if they fail to ensure the bonds between the families are upheld and their true objective is definitely not to prevent any disasters that the rich young master's arrogance may attract! And look: you have the smart, crafty one and the big tough one; perfect for dealing with any type of struggle so that the rich young master might not have need to be inconvenienced by the trouble of dealing with the problems yourself.” I spoke finishing everything off with even more sarcasm than my previous analysis, and that was dripping with it. “How delightful.”

There was silence among the group. Franklin’s mouth hung open and he had a look of shock on his face that was mirrored by everyone in the opposing group. The two hangers-on where showing their differences in the reactions that came out. The bigger one jerked, almost as though he had been hit, but settled back into a more bored state within moments. The smaller one looked at me like I had grown an extra head, and then just gave a nearly silent sigh.

Richard was silenced the same as the rest but only for a moment before a wide grin lit up his face. “Excellent! I knew you would know who I was if you thought about it long enough!”

I nearly face-palmed at his reaction and flatly replied. “No. I really, really don’t. You just seem surprisingly easy to read.”

He frowned at my answer before answering back. “But… how? How do you get to your age without knowing about the big names in this town and their relations? How do you come to attend a party like this without at least that most basic introduction into high society? It makes no sense.”

Thankfully I was spared from answering by Franklin breaking in as the two of them started a low-key but still tense bickering session. Franklin mentioned that I was his guest and that, no, we didn’t know why Sarah was following me around in her maid costume. Richard berated him for bringing me so unprepared to deal with high society and started mentioning the trouble that could have come from it. Franklin countered with his own defense that he would have kept me out of trouble and that I had both no interest in politics, which was true, and that I had other things that interested me more. The conversation continued on but I was paying less and less attention.

Even as I spoke the words I could feel the gears turning in my mind. He was ‘easy to read’, almost like a character trope in a story. As I grew the world seemed more real and my ability to experience it grew as well. Whether that was because of the increase in my stats or something more inherent to this world’s weird version of ‘growing up’, I didn’t know. What I did know was that I had always just kinda accepted that this world worked like a video game, or at least a lit-rpg, because it just did. This was the first time that I was struck by the realization that maybe the world shouldn’t be so clear cut. These seemed like real people, their argument seemed real enough at least. And yet…

And yet everyone seemed to fit a trope. Not just Richard and his two friends but just about everyone I knew. Franklin was the generic Best Friend who liked to poke fun but was also a link to high society, meaning that his family was almost certainly more important to the town than I realized. Row was the Battle-Maniac Mentor who is a surprisingly good teacher. My dad was a generic Mad Scientist who was unconcerned with how normal people did stuff but was also mixed with the Highly Involved Dad who spent only a moderate amount of time at work. My mom skipped straight past the Milquetoast Mother trope and was instead the Iron Matriarch, keeping both her rambunctious and chaotic husband and son in line. I was actually kind of glad about that; I can’t imagine the stress I would have been for a more weak willed person to have as a son.

It didn’t even stop there. To my best knowledge it seemed true of everyone I had significantly interacted with. Rack, the builder mom had introduced me to on a couple occasions, was a Common Tinkerer, which was slightly less common but more useful in most cases than the Mad-Scientist variety. Mayhu, the woman who came during our hunting trip, was the Spitfire with a Dark History. I hadn’t really interacted much with her past, but I was pretty sure it existed from how profusely she apologized after I got back. Could I ask more about her to confirm? The less said about Freddie the kidnapper the better, but I had figured out his trope pretty easily. Even Sarah seemed to fit the Cute Little Sister trope pretty clearly. Yes, not actually being related lost points for that category, but not all characters who fit into that trope were related and being a servant actually was a pretty common subtype for writers who wanted to keep open the possibility of a future romance without having to deal with ‘Eww, Incest’ popping up. Even the old man, for all his ability to convince me that other people were real people and not just tropes, still is a clear example of a Wise Man/Old Man NPC character.

Around me the two argued acidicly, though somehow keeping things oddly calm from an out ward appearance. The two followers seemed to have gotten used to their antics and were off to the side, very much away from the argument. The maid girl watched the others with a child’s incomprehension. And I sat back and tried to figure how I could prove or disprove that weirdness. Far more importantly, though, I repeatedly had to question why such a thing might be true at all.