“Fiona, why didn’t you say that your mark was changing?”

Greg was doing that scowl again, and it irritated her. She smoothed her hair behind her ears, while Bonnie looked at her symbol in the arcanist room in the back after they had closed up shop for the day, where she kept her supplies for rune work and enchantments. She took a measured breath before responding. “This is the first time I’ve seen it change. I mean sure, Wingding here has flapped its wings a couple of times, and none of the books mentioned that. I just thought, you know, it must be just uncommon. Is that normal–”

“No,” Greg, Bonnie, and Darla all uttered in unison. Bonnie in the meantime, was examining the mark on her arm, and the mark did not enjoy being prodded. Fiona scowled at all of them in response, and her skin felt tickled by Bonnie's fur.

“So, Bon-bon, on a scale of one to weird, where are we at?” Fiona finally asked. “Also, I think this goes without saying, not a word to anyone whose name rhymes with Mary. Got it?”

“Yes, Fiona, I would very much not like to give that creep any more ammo to throw at you,” Bonnie growled. Fiona tried not to snerk at this, but Bonnie’s growls were about as far from intimidating as one could get. She peered through a device that looked like a magnifying glass, with a dark wooden frame and crystalline lens. Little arcane runes dotted the frame, and she tapped her wrist, where her mark was fluttering its wings, and the crown on top of her jeweled heart shone. “Well Fiona, I think this confirms it. On a scale of one, to weird? You capped out on weird,” she added with a wicked grin.

“Yeah, you try coming through an isekai event with your sanity in one piece. And I was already weird to begin with,” she responded with a chuckle. “So, question. Why do all the summons have a class automatically? Who gives the classes out? Isn’t that the administrator's job? And why’s mine weird?”

“Okay, reality check time. Fiona, most marks–and by that, I mean, all of them, are static. They don’t flap! They also don’t acquire extra markings like that, there’s just no precedent!” Bonnie stuck to facts, and pointed to the mark. "I've never seen this before."

“Well, my Wingding is special!” Fiona called out testily. Bonnie gazed at her, and then laughed.

“Wait, you just gave a name to your mark? Seriously? That name feels a little too on the muzzle,” she stated between gasping laughs, and wiped a tear from her eye, while trying to focus with the magnifier.

“Yeah! She’s my Wingding! Maybe our marks are living things, and you guys aren’t big-hearted enough to give yours names!” Fiona stated smugly, like she was the first to come up with this idea. She probably wasn’t, but, maybe in this crowd, she was. “She has feelings! She can answer yes or no questions with a flap of her wings, when I think thoughts!”

“Uh…this is based on what evidence?” Greg asked, all the while jotting notes on his arcanist pad. “Fiona, forgive me for sounding skeptical, but I think you’re trying to see patterns where there are none.”

“Okay, I’ll prove it. I worked out a system, one flap for yes, two for no.”

“Right. And you intend to prove this, how?” Greg was still being obtuse, and that had to stop.

“I intend to prove it! Wingding, is Greg an utter square?” Fiona asked with a playful smile. Wingding stopped hovering, and gave a single flap with her wings, before hovering with light figure eight motions of her wings.

Greg narrowed his eyes at the mark. “I’m not a square–wait, what am I saying? Marks aren’t alive!” He tossed the arcanist pad on the table, the well-scribed writing visible in the bright light of the desk lamp that hummed with magical energy. “Ask it again. That could have been a coincidence.”

“Can I ask a question?” Darla chimed in, peering at Fiona and her mark with keen interest. “Wingding–may I call you that?”

One flap. Fiona smirked and stuck out her tongue at Greg, who adjusted his glasses, acting unbothered by this affirmation. Darla leaned in and whispered to Wingding. “Does Fiona have the hots for someone in this room?” she asked in a husky tone.

Fiona turned red in the face when Wingding betrayed her and gave a single flap, and she pointed accusingly at her mark. “Hey, hey, personal stuff, girl! We need to teach you some social rules, first!”

Two flaps later, she growled. “Oh, oh that won’t stand, Wingding. The social rulebook is getting pulled out!”

“Oh no, I like this heart on your sleeve spiel,” Darla quipped with a grin, her tail slinking left and right like an amused cat. Wingding flapped enthusiastically at this. Darla did put a hand to a horn, rubbing it gently. “I do find this strange. Greg, do you notice something unusual about this?”

Greg’s eyes widened at this spectacle as this banter had been unfolding, and he sighed while rubbing the bridge of his nose. “No, Darla, this is not normal, on any parameter whatsoever. Marks aren’t alive. This must be just some odd quirk or manifestation of Fiona’s class. Though ‘Merchant’ is hardly a spectacle-inducing class.”

“Merchant of Fortune, actually.” Bonnie peered through the glass, and tapped the crown gently–her claw tip tickled Fiona’s wrist, and she giggled. “Stand still, please. The thing I know about marks is that they also have some subtle implications for the powers you manifest. For me, my power comes from enchantment work. I can embroider runes, bake them into metals, and I can do cool hat tricks. Not that I’ve shown off much,” she added with a quick adjustment of her hat over her cute ears, which had their own cutouts.

“We are still glossing over the fact that we have a living mark. I’m still convinced it’s a quirk of her abilities. Which includes being able to fling gold at insane speeds and has zero encumbrance for her, which is exceedingly odd by itself,” Greg mused, and stroked his chin gently. “But, that crown…it showed up, after the transaction. Why?”

“Oh, oh! I have it!” Darla called out, practically jumping up for joy. “She reunited a treasure with its rightful owner! It’s the fortune of hearts!”

“I called it the wealth of hearts, but, eh, close enough!” Fiona declared cheerily. “So Bonnie, why do marks just show up?”

"Did you pay any attention to your lessons?” Greg sighed.

“The transmigrated elf has been instructed, but she does not recall!” she uttered with a frustrated sigh. “Alright, walk me through the parts I get stuck on. This world? Everyone gets a mark, or a class, by eighteen. Some kind of ancient bargain with the gods, so all the peoples of the world didn’t become snacks for giant monsters. Or, something like that. Greg, I read a lot, but this thing reads like stereo instructions.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“Alright, more or less.” Bonnie nested in another lens on top of the magnifier and peered closer at the tiara on Wingding’s…head. It didn’t really have a head, but Fiona figured that was where it should be. “This world was…primal, at one point. It was not a nice place to live, and life was very hard. The first survivors to fight back against some ancient monster race were given an edge by the living gods, who didn’t want to see their creations destroyed. Hence, the marks, and the classes everyone gains.”

“So, eldritch dinosaurs?” Fiona proposed. Greg gave her a blank stare. “Tentacles, monstrous, panic-inducing auras, scaly skin, big and scary?”

“I believe it was some kind of alien, monstrous race. But, yes. The primal tribes united and fought back against them, nearly seven thousand years ago, is what most scholars agree upon, with the power of the marks. A gift the gods let us keep, even after the threat to our existence was over. The administrators are those left with a sacred duty that all those who apply for their callings in life, get them–within reason. Some people just aren’t cut out for certain occupations or duties.”

“Yeah, a little unsettling that people have rolled the dice,” Fiona commented. “Greg you're an enforcer, which has a negative connotation to it. Like a brute who works for a magical mafia family. Greg, why didn’t you just–”

“Because I didn't want to take the classes my parents tried to train me in–specifically, my father. I would have ended up far worse, and I was in no position to defy him, at the time. That changed…after I got my mark. However, it came with some strings attached. It enhances my martial prowess–and seems to be an interesting utility class that also is powered by my writings and notes.” Greg glanced down at his sleeve, rubbing at it gently. “Very few people even ask about them. It's been generally agreed upon within the Unified Kingdoms. It’s a very personal thing, as you’ve picked up.”

“Okay, that’s cool. But what if you end up with a first class like ‘assassin’, or maybe ‘courtesan’ out of curiosity? You know, something that has bad vibes written all over it? That would not be cool.”

“Greg, not that I like to agree with Fiona on this one…but, she has a point, and especially, in your case,” Bonnie reminded him.

“Thank you, Bonnie, but I don’t feel like revisiting this. I made my choice, even if that choice was to simply wait till I got a random mark, and it is not the end of the world. This is why people can pick up additional classes.”

“So, the living gods that I’ve heard about, they empower the Contracts?” Fiona queried, having decided to let poor Greg have a break. He was pretty sensitive about this one–possibly as a matter of shame. Greg nodded at this reprieve and pulled open his datapad.

“Yes. The weave of the world is filled with magic, unlike your description of Earth. The contracts are that weave made manifest, to empower individuals with training and abilities of their choosing. Though, as you’ve noted, no two people are alike. Two soldiers may have radically different abilities that serve similar purposes. Anyway, I digress. Your powers are nothing like anything I’ve seen. And I believe it is actually very important we find out why.”

“Why’s Wingding wearing the tiara? Here, Bonnie, I have an idea.” Bonnie retracted her hand, and Fiona rubbed at Wingding–who took a liking to her stroking the wings gently with her finger, and seemed to be less animated.

“Greg, remind me, since I was busy. What did that tiara do?” Bonnie asked. “I know that it was a family heirloom, but…”

“I’m not entirely sure. The artifact was marked as having the ability to become a sunbeam and teleport to anywhere you could project the ray to in a straight line…but…”

“Wingding, I need to see your little tiara, it looks so cute on you!” Fiona cooed, and Greg rolled his eyes at this, while her finger tapped the little metal crown on her skin.

“It’s not alive, Fiona, it’s a strange quirk of magic–”

Fiona had felt a small ringing chime coming off her gold bracelet that still felt lighter than air, and when her finger touched the tattooed tiara, the gold flared a brilliant gold color–and instantly blinded her, and everyone in the room, in a flash of light. She shouted out in panic, unable to see for a couple of seconds, and she heard the others cursing.

“Oh, what the hell, Fi!” Bonnie groaned. Fiona noticed that her vision came back quickly, though that brightness was a bit of an adjustment to the now darker room.

“Been down there, it’s not so bad.”

“Wasn’t talking about you, you demonic cactus!” Bonnie growled cutely. Fiona’s vision finally wasn’t a blur of light, and everyone was wincing and rubbing at their eyes, including Bonnie. She dared to take a look at Fiona’s wrist. “Well, that was interesting. Did anyone else see what happened?”

“I did. Her gold bangle flared brilliantly bright. It was very hard to not notice,” Greg groused, still shaking off the temporary blindness, and he blinked several times. “I do believe the tiara has a slightly different power than advertised. A power, now transfused to Fiona.”

“How, though? Is it tied to the merchant class?” she pondered, and Wingding was shaking lightly, almost as if she was disoriented, too. An idea came up, the way Bonnie had said it, caught her attention. “Uh, I’m gonna try something again. Everyone, please, close your eyes and face away?”

“Fi, are you doing arcanist experiments? The world should shudder in your wake, and you were already a menace with that absurdly oversized hammer,” Bonnie groaned.

“Nonsense, it’s as light as a feather! Now, let’s try this.” She squinted as much as she dared, and tapped the tiara sitting on Wingding, and the bangle glowed with golden light. But the intensity was much diminished. She repeated the motion, and to the same result. She frowned and took her hand away. “Wingding, hasn’t anyone told you not to accept bizarre powers from strangers?”

Two flaps later, Fiona sighed. “Welp, I guess I walked into that one. But, can I do that without gold on?” She tossed the bangle onto the table where it rang with resounding ringing note, before falling flat and motionless. She tapped the tiara another time, but nothing happened. She frowned, and tried again, to the same result. “Well, I’m not a scientist, but, I think I need gold on my persona to make use of this one.”

“If I may? Try thinking of activating it, rather than tapping on Wingding. See if you can feel the flow of magic,” Greg suggested, eyes focused on the bangle. Fiona quickly put it back on, and felt a tingle of energy, and squinted her eyes. Greg cautiously shielded himself, looking through a narrow gap in his fingers.

Okay, Wingding. Give the world a dose of razzle and dazzle! Wingding shrugged her wings lightly, as if unsure. Uh…do the thing, where we made the world shine bright!

The reaction was instant, as the tiara shone with light, and then the golden bangle followed suit–thought Fiona squinted, she could feel that brief pull of energy from her body, like the last few times. But she could control it, and the bangle dimmed. She could feel that flow, the same way when she’d been instructed on using magical items.

But this was no magical item. This was the living mark on her skin, carrying the same power. She cut the flow with a mental flicker, and the bangle dimmed–but didn’t stop glowing. Slowly, she willed her body, felt the tension in her arm relax, and the light intensity resumed. “Guys. Wingding acquired the power of the tiara.”

“Wingding isn’t alive–”

“Oh get over it Greg, prove to me she’s not,” she grumbled. Bonnie was practically jumping for joy, and Darla was wearing a smug look.

“How fitting, our radiant ray of sunshine elf gets a superpower, to only accentuate that more. May I suggest some obsidian lenses, so you don’t accidentally burn your eyes out?” Darla proposed, hands on her hips and looking proud.

“More gold superpowers? Seriously, this one needs a name! I call it razzle and dazzle!” Fiona declared proudly, and Bonnie cackled while Greg sighed.

“The more we try to stay low-key, the more you warp reality to unmake that wish,” he stated, while folding his arms tightly. “I still have one lingering question: why? I’ve never heard of this kind of magic before, certainly not this pronounced. Or a mark that seems to have…personality.”

“You love it. You love mysteries, Greg,” Fiona grinned, before pondering this newfound discovery. “So, what do I do with it?”

Bonnie took an image of Wingding with her sketches, and furrowed her brow. “For now? Probably nothing. However, if you have the urge to blind everyone around you, by all means, make sure we’re not around. Aaand, we need to talk to this Clarke dude and make sure he isn’t reporting to Barry. I worry about what our greedy blonde dragon is plotting in the background--

A ping on her arcane relay got Fiona's attention, and she peered down at the display and frowned. "Speak of the dragon."

"What, is Douglas the Red calling you for an apology?" Bonnie laughed, but the grimace on Fiona's face stopped her jest short. "Oh, it's bad, isn't it?"

"Greybeard Senior is calling me. I may blow up on him on this call."