The first day of summer was a day of celebration for a number of reasons. For Jeb’s classmates, it was probably the half day of school. For Jeb, on the other hand, it was that today was Census Day. It was the one day a year that the town received news from the Capital.
Jeb hurried through his morning stretches and chores. He knew they were important to lay the foundation for his future Class, but that didn’t mean that he loved every second of them. As he finished feeding the cattle, his sister came into the barn.
“Why are you so excited Jeb?” she asked, humoring him.
“It’s my last Census Day before I enroll!” Jeb had been born on the third day of summer, so he would enroll in the Census almost a full year later than some of his peers. “Next year I’ll get to know whether I’m on track!”
“Jeb, if family history is true, you’ll be a farmer. The minimum track for farmers is so slow that you almost have to work not to meet it. You’ll be fine, especially since the family won’t let you underlevel.”
“I know, but it’s frustrating not knowing whether or not I’m improving at all!”
“Because you could always lift the full feed bags?” his sister teased him.
“That’s fair,” Jeb said, noticing how much more toned his arms were than they had been a few months before. “But it’s different than being notified about when my Strength goes up, or that I’ve unlocked a new Skill.”
“And I suppose that you’re the expert in what it feels like to have those notifications? Anyways, I’m just here to remind you that most of our older relatives don’t love Census Day, so try to keep it toned down around them.”
Jeb nodded. “I know, but I still don’t get why. It’s not like we get taxed that heavily. We still have enough for us and everyone else in the community who needs food. Why shouldn’t we share it with the rest of the Republic, so that they can get the food they need?”
Jeb’s sister just stared at him. “I hope you stay that optimistic for a while longer, little brother.” She ruffled his hair and the two went off to their days.
Jeb went to the one-room building that served a number of uses for the community. Once a month it served for the Town Council Meeting. At the end of harvest, it was where everyone gathered to dance. Most days, though, it served as the schoolhouse.
Of course, Humdrumville was far too small to support a full-time Teacher. There was no way that the Republic would pay for someone to teach the children, especially since most of them would end up in the same jobs as their parents. Still, the older members of the town thought that it was important for children to get a wider view of their world. His grandfather in particular had convinced the rest of the town that a child without their letters would grow up into a person who gets taken advantage of. So, until the children turned sixteen, the Librarian had worksheets for them to get their letters, numbers, and some insight into the System.
With all of the children in one room, a lot of the learning had to take place at home. The older kids had to help the younger, and the Librarian mostly just kept the room from erupting into too much chaos. Still, more and more of the town had their letters, and the Classes that townspeople earned became better as they learned more.
The Librarian was a bit of an enigma. After all, Humdrumville wasn’t near the Capital, where all the political and economic power was centered. It was nowhere near the borders, where the Republic faced off against its enemies. It was in the center of the Republic, where most maps from the Capital ignored anything more than a mile from the major roads. Humdrumville was fifty miles from the nearest major road.
And yet, for whatever reason, Humdrumville had attracted a Tier Ten Librarian. Sure, the town needed a Librarian, since they were the largest settlement within fifty miles, but their last Librarian had been Tier Four when he’d arrived. But, everyone knew better than to ask what brought you to somewhere like Humdrumville. Too many of the families had been established by someone trying to hide from demons they’d seen in their life behind the constant pace of the country life.
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For all that, the town had a Librarian, and the Librarian agreed that it was important to educate children. Since he was also responsible for Census reporting, though, he only was able to teach for the morning of Census Day. At lunch, the students were released to go to the fair, while the Librarian hurried to clean the building for the Censusmaster.
Jeb wandered through the fair, saying hi to his family members as he saw them. He watched as they Inspected him, probably trying to figure out what Class he would receive. As he found his sister, the Censusmaster arrived.
The Censusmaster arrived with his normal air of pompous disregard for the town. His horse was beautiful, though obviously not maintained by a Tier 9 Groom like his great aunt. It must have stood at least sixteen hands, and its coat was a deep jet black.
As the Censusmaster prepared to post the yearly Census summary, Jeb readied his slate. He wanted to be sure that he knew what the trends were this year.
“Hear ye, hear ye. The following is a decree from His August Leadership-” Jeb tuned out the Censusmaster. After all, he would be providing a written version of everything he said to the Librarian. Jeb knew that not every town was lucky enough to have a school, so it made sense that the Republic would have the Censusmaster read the Census aloud. Still, for a town like this, it was hardly needed.
The Censusmaster finished his speech, and the townsfolk gave their standard applause. If anyone had listened through the entire speech, Jeb would be surprised. Still, rules were rules, and traditions were traditions. He still wasn’t sure which “clap when the Censusmaster finishes speaking” was, or even what they were clapping for. One of his aunts assured him it was because they were glad he’d finally finished talking, but Jeb was scolded when he mentioned that to his mother.
Now was the moment he had waited for, though. The Censusmaster handed the Librarian a scroll and left the town square. He was going to collect the taxes, Jeb knew.
The Librarian unfurled the scroll.
“[Copy],” he intoned, and the sheet covering the wall of the school was filled with a large-type version of what was on the scroll.
Profession Median Level Median Level Gain This Year Adventurer 520 100 Crafter 551 8 Farmer 511 5 Scholar 600 10
Jeb noticed that he wasn’t the only one staring at the summary. After all, the other fifteen year olds in the village would also be getting their class soon. While the rest of them looked at the average level gain for an adventurer and decided to go off to get their levels that way, Jeb noticed something else.
Sure, adventurers leveled nearly 20 times as quickly as farmers, but their median level wasn’t much higher. New adventurers would enroll every year, which would lower the average, but that would be true for farmers as well. The fact that their medians were so close must mean that either adventurers died young, or that they retired early. With the medians levels and gains being what they were, a standard adventurer only worked for five years, while a standard farmer worked for over a hundred. While the idea of only needing to work for five years held some appeal, he knew that he would be bored of it quickly. And, with as many adventurers as left the town, surely some of them would come back if they’d made it big.
Of course, Jeb also noted that the average farmer seemed to stall out at the Ninth Tier, which probably meant something. There were higher requirements to unlock each higher Tier, after all, so maybe the Tenth Tier had some ridiculous requirements in order to unlock it. Still, the fact that his grandfather was nearly one hundred and level 510 seemed to suggest that he’d see his grandfather for a while longer, which was nice. Jeb left the fair still thinking about his class to be. After all, every member of his family had been some sort of Farmer since Humdrumville was incorporated in the Census.