As he neared the king's table, his eyes wandering on the cups of wine, the silver plates filled with beef, deer and boar, the trays containing figs, apples and grapes, the Questmaster heard a familiar conversation.
“...you have to raise your arm and say, open status!” the king explained with clarity and assurance. “We raise our arm as a way to reach the gods, who were kind enough to grant us this powerful magic. Only the most experienced can do it without the gesture. I wouldn't recommend it to you yet.”
“I see,” hero Cooper said naively, scratching his brown hair. “I was doing it wrong.” He paused, raised his arm, and bellowed, “Open status!” It earned him a few glances and snickers, but he didn't seem to notice, too distracted by the screen that must have appeared in front of him. “Wow!” he exclaimed, as if his pitiful stats were something to be gaping at.
“Magnificent,” said the smiling king as he slowly clapped his hands. “You truly are talented, young hero.”
This, again. Hero Cooper gave a shy and stupid grin, like many others before him. This is why, today, half the heroes in Pandristar are still yelling stupid commands to check their own information... Bad habits lingered, even after they learned the truth. The Questmaster let out a long, bored breath through clenched teeth. “Your majesty, I implore you, do not concern yourself with these matters. It is the duty of people such as I, to teach the young hero.”
“Aw,” the king said wryly, stroking his fine beard. “but I enjoy it so much...” I know you do. That's why. “Still, if you insist,” he carried on, “I'll let you have all the fun.”
“What's fun?” Cooper Cain wondered nonchalantly.
“Why, teaching, of course!” The Questmaster said with a warm smile. “Teaching is so much fun, wouldn't you agree? Seeing bright students such as yourself accomplishing a difficult task in less time that it takes to explain it, it's peerless fun, trust me.”
“Hmm...” The hero rubbed his chin with a satisfied expression and observed the people in the hall. “I don't think I've ever seen anyone here opening their status...”
Neremniel, who had been silent until now, pitched in. “Most people don't even feel the need to check their status, unlike heroes whose power and skills are constantly evolving. In truth, some of us here have never been able to open a single information screen.”
“Not everyone can consult his status screen with so little practise,” the king added, displaying an expression of pride and wisdom, which everybody, save for the hero, knew to be fake. “You may be gifted, hero Cooper. It's a blessing from the gods – it must be.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
It's fucking silly, that's what it is, the Questmaster complained in his mind as he grabbed a wooden chair and sat down next to the hero. Even uneducated beggars and dimwits could open their status with a mere thought. It was amongst the first things people would learn to do. Screaming, crawling, status opening.
“HP... MP...” Cooper muttered as he looked at his screen. “What happens when my HP fall to zero? Do I respawn?”
The Questmaster raised a brow. “You die,” he said flatly. Perhaps you should experience it yourself. Anyone stupid enough not to know that, deserves to learn it the hard way. He cleared his throat and grabbed an apple from a clay plate. “HP loss can be induced in more than one way,” he explained. “Getting bullied to death by goblins is one way – suffering from great hunger is another.” He handed out the apple to the hero, who accepted it with uneasy hands. “Eat apples, young hero. They may save your life.”
Cooper nodded, his determined eyes filled with gratitude. Little did he know that for each of these small advices that should have been obvious even for otherworldly travellers, he'd be kept in the dark about very important things that could actually save his life.
“So, are there ways to regain HP?”
“But of course,” the Questmaster said cheerfully. “The prayers of a cleric, or the spells of a druid, for instance, can achieve that. Some consumables can also restore various amounts of health, and unless you have an untreated injury, your HP should be gradually regained over time. Sleep can also quicken this phenomenon.”
The newcomers often seemed to be aware of the basics, and had the tendency of convincing themselves that they already knew all there was to know about the world of Pandristel. Over the years, the Questmaster found it wise to gain their trust by willingly explaining the fundamental laws of the world, the ones that didn't come as a surprise, while at the same time keeping silent about whatever the heroes were unfamiliar with.
The official guideline for dealing with heroes that was given to the inhabitants of Pandristel was simple. If they don't ask about it, don't speak about it. If they do ask, give them information they already know, or could easily guess. If it is something important, claim that you don't know. The Questmaster, as the original creator of this precept, was fairly proud of it.
“Cleric, eh?” Cooper fell deep in thought, which contrasted with his unintelligent appearance, therefore making quite the sight. Like an idiot caught in a paralysis spell, blank eyes and unmoving body. “I have 8 points in faith,” he eventually said, “does that mean I could be a cleric? What about a paladin? When do I get to choose a class, by the way?”
“Tomorrow,” the Questmaster said, calming the hero with a gesture of his hand as if he was an overexcited dog. “This is an important decision. You should take the night to think about it.”
“Wait... I can't change my class once I've decided?”
“No.” The Questmaster beamed a large smile, and so did the king. “Weight your options carefully, but don't lose any sleep over the matter, eh?” And they all laughed, knowing perfectly that Cooper Cain would anxiously think about his choice of class tonight, worrying about what he should pick when they wouldn't even tell him all the possibilities. As far as he was concerned, he would have access to the usual set of vocations.
Knight, wizard, cleric, rogue, and whatnot. Most of the new heroes were already accustomed with these, so the Questmaster didn't mind talking about those. When the hero would be faced with a bunch of unexpected classes the next day though, he would panic, and most likely make a hurried, unthoughtful choice. With the lack of sleep, and the officials in the know that would glare at the hero for dragging on the Ceremony of Choosing, it worked every time.
“I've already told him about the purposes of each starting class,” the king said with a blank face, a slight hint of a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth. The Questmaster knew not what his majesty had been telling the hero, but in all likelihood, his explanations of the classes weren't remotely trustworthy.
“Good,” the Questmaster concluded with a nod. “Then I gather you're all set for tomorrow, hero Cooper.”