The Council Room of the Adventurers’ Academy stood at the top of a spire overlooking the city of Aurelia. Its walls were lined with ancient maps, faded banners from long-forgotten guilds, and relics of past heroes. The morning sun streamed through tall, arched windows, casting streaks of gold across the polished table where the Academy’s most powerful leaders sat.
At the head of the table sat Silas Blackwood, one of the Academy’s senior overseers—a cunning strategist, a relentless recruiter, and a man known for spotting talent where others saw none. He was tall, with sharp features and silver-threaded hair pulled back neatly. His dark suit was impeccable, his bowler hat resting on the table beside him.
On the table in front of him sat a thin file folder, the edges sharp and neat. Across the top, one name was printed:
Dwayne Shi’longh Bennett (Otter)
The other figures around the table murmured quietly, their voices low and cautious.
A stern woman named Instructor Vael tapped her finger on the table. “This boy hasn’t received a class. And yet, you want to bring him into the Academy?”
Silas leaned back in his chair, his expression calm. “Correct.”
Vael’s eyes narrowed. “On what grounds?”
Silas opened the file and slid it across the table. It stopped in front of her, revealing Otter’s abridged profile.
Name: Dwayne Shi’longh Bennett
Level: 0
XP: 0
Class: None
Stats:
STR: 9
DEX: 9
CON: 9
INT: 10
WIS: 9
CHA: 9
Luck: 18
Notably absent was any mention of skills. Trying to maintain accurate records of that information for everyone not inducted to the Academy wouldn’t be worth the effort. As it was, the administration struggled to keep up with the most basic information of all those receiving wrist displays on their twelfth birthday.
Vael’s gaze lingered on the Luck stat, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Eighteen? That can’t be right. No one’s Luck is that high.”
“That’s exactly why we should be paying attention,” Silas said, leaning forward. His voice was steady, persuasive. “We’ve seen countless recruits with high strength, dexterity, and intelligence stats. And yes, they make fine Fighters, Spell Lords, and Scouts. But Luck? It’s unique.”
Another instructor, a younger man with spectacles, frowned. “Luck isn’t a real stat. It’s... abstract. Unpredictable.”
“Precisely,” Silas replied. “And that’s why it matters.”
The room fell silent as Silas stood, his hands clasped behind his back. He paced slowly, the sound of his polished boots echoing in the chamber.
“Consider this,” he said. “Most adventurers rely on their stats and skills to survive. Strength to wield a sword. Dexterity to dodge a blow. Intelligence to cast spells. But what happens when the unexpected occurs? When a trap is sprung? When a battle takes an unforeseen turn?”
He gestured toward the file on the table. “Luck is what keeps them alive.”
Overseer Kane, a burly man with a broad nose spoke up. “With stats like that, he’ll never be able to compete with classed recruits.”
Silas smiled faintly. “But the Academy isn’t about competition, is it? It’s about cooperation. Imagine what a team of highly skilled adventurers could accomplish with someone that lucky on their side.”
Vael leaned forward. “But without a class, he has no foundation to build on. Not to mention how fragile a level 0 is. He would likely be more of a burden to the team than a help.”
“Fair point,” Silas conceded. “There is certainly some risk involved. But what first level adventurer doesn’t accept the same risk when joining the Academy? Besides, we don’t send green recruits into the field on the first day. Your job—our job—is to make sure they are ready for the dangers they will face. And who’s to say he won’t get a proper class after he arrives? It has happened before.”
“Bah,” Kane scoffed. “Those were kids with multiple high stats. They had options. They simply hadn’t decided before arriving. This Bennet kid hasn’t got a chance. He’ll fail every test we throw at him.”
“Then he fails,” Silas said simply. “But what if he doesn’t? What if his Luck is the key to something we’ve never seen before? Are we really going to let that potential slip through our fingers?”
Vael’s expression remained skeptical, and Kane’s downright hostile, but the rest of those gathered had grown thoughtful.
Silas leaned on the table, his gaze steady. “Every hero’s story begins with a risk. I say we take this one.”
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***
Late one afternoon, three days before Erin was scheduled to leave, Otter was scraping barnacles off the docks. All was quiet save for the creak of boats bobbing on the water. His task was menial, requiring no thought. Which was good, because his thoughts were certainly elsewhere.
He’d spent every spare moment he had with Erin, but it wasn't enough. There were always odd jobs to do. He and his mother needed every last copper dreg they could earn. At the moment, he was trying to devise a scheme to make a little extra coin. Maybe sell copies of his maps?
The rhythmic tapping of boots on cobblestones pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see a boy dressed in the crisp blue-and-gold uniform of the Adventurers’ Academy walking toward him. The boy looked about Otter’s age, maybe a little older, but carried himself with the rigid confidence of someone on official business.
“Dwayne Bennett?” the messenger called, his voice clear and formal.
Otter froze, gripping the scraper tightly. “That’s me.”
The messenger pulled a sealed envelope from his satchel and handed it to Otter. The wax seal bore the Academy’s crest—a capital A with a sword for the crossbar and quill extending from the apex.
Otter stared at it, his heart pounding.
“What is it?” his mother asked, appearing around some nearby crates.
Otter swallowed hard and broke the seal. His hands trembled as he unfolded the letter.
To Dwayne Shi’longh Bennett,
By order of the Adventurers’ Academy Council, you are hereby invited to join the incoming class of recruits.
Report to the city gates of Brighthaven at dawn on the 10th day of the Harvest Moon. Transport will be provided.
The path forward is yours to take.
Signed,
Silas Blackwood
Senior Overseer, Adventurers’ Academy
Otter read the letter twice, disbelief washing over him.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” he whispered.
Marla took the letter from his hands, reading it over quickly. Her eyes widened, and she looked up at him with a rare smile.
“They want you.”
Otter shook his head. “But… I don’t have a class.”
Marla folded the letter carefully and handed it back to him. “Doesn’t seem to matter, does it?”
Otter stared at the letter, his mind spinning.
“But what if it’s a mistake? What if they sent it to me by accident?” he asked quietly.
Marla placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “The Academy doesn’t make mistakes like that, Otter. They want you.”
“But why?” Otter asked, his voice rising. “Why me? I’ve been waiting three years for the System to give me a class. Three years, and nothing! And now they want me at the Academy? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Otter, you’ve been waiting for someone to give you permission to chase your dreams. Well, here it is. Stop second guessing yourself.”
Otter’s feet pounded the cobblestones as he sprinted through the streets of Brighthaven, his breath coming in gasps, his heart hammering in his chest. The invitation letter was clutched tightly in his hand, the official seal of the Adventurers’ Academy pressed into the thick parchment.
He couldn’t wait. He had to tell her. Erin had to be the first to know. Well… the second. His mother had been first, obviously.
Dodging a cart laden with barrels, he cut through Brassknuckle Row, the scent of metal and smoke heavy in the air. He barely registered the shouts of smiths and tinkers, his mind focused solely on his destination.
The streets of Greenshade Quarter opened up before him, trees lining the cobbled avenues. The air here was quieter, calmer, but Otter didn’t slow down.
He knew the way by heart. Erin’s house sat at the end of Silverleaf Lane, a small stone cottage with flower boxes in the windows and a worn wooden gate.
Otter skidded to a stop in front of the gate, panting. He took a moment to catch his breath, pressing a hand to his chest. He glanced down at the invitation, his heart almost bursting with excitement.
He grinned. He did it.
Pushing open the gate, he darted up the path and knocked on the door, his fist thumping against the wood.
A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing Erin’s father, a broad-shouldered man with graying hair and a perpetual scowl that made him seem more intimidating than he actually was. He wore a work apron streaked with soot and grease, a clear sign he’d been fixing something in his workshop.
“Otter,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. He leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms. “What brings you here in such a rush?”
Otter shifted nervously, still catching his breath. “I was hoping to see Erin, sir.”
Erin’s father gave him a long, measuring look, his sharp eyes flicking down to the parchment clutched in Otter’s hand. A flicker of curiosity crossed his face, but he kept his expression neutral.
“She’s in the garden,” he said after a pause, jerking his head toward the side of the house. “Go on through.”
“Thank you, sir,” Otter said, giving a quick nod before dashing past.
As Otter rounded the corner, he could feel Erin’s father’s eyes on his back, but he didn’t slow down. He found Erin standing at a makeshift archery range. She held a bow, arrow knocked, the string pulled back to her cheek.
“Erin!” Otter called.
She lost her grip on the string and the arrow zipped off, missing the target by a mile. “Otter? What are you—”
He sprinted the last few steps, holding out the invitation. “I got it!”
Erin’s eyes widened as she took the letter from his hands, her gaze scanning the Academy’s crest and the official seal. Slowly, a grin spread across her face.
“You got in?” she whispered.
“I got in!” Otter beamed, his cheeks flushed with excitement. “I’m going to the Academy!”
Erin tossed the bow aside and threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight. “I knew it! I knew you would!”
Otter laughed, hugging her back. For a moment, the weight of doubt and fear he’d carried for so long melted away, replaced by pure joy.
“So what Class did you get? Did you get it last night? I can’t believe the Academy got to you so soon.” Erin’s questions tumbled out in a rush.
“Um… yeah… I still don’t have one.”
Erin pulled back and looked at him, her brows pinched together. “Really? That’s… different.”
“You don’t think it’s a mistake, do you?”
She shook her head. “The Academy invites people with potential, not a Class. If just having a Class was a prerec, Bran would be going. But he isn’t.” She hugged him again. “Oh, Otter, this is going to be amazing!”
Otter swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding. “Thanks for believing in me.”
Erin grinned, her excitement mirroring his own. “We’re going to the Academy together.”
“Together,” Otter agreed.
The thought filled him with hope and determination. The journey ahead wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time in years, he felt like he was finally on the right path.
And he wasn’t walking it alone.