| Member Slot consumed
| 1# Member: Eliza Oakbarrel
| Trust: [20/100]
| Class: Cook
| Level: 1
| Experience: [262/1000]
"Cook?" Jamie murmured, eyebrows raised in surprise at Eliza's class. 'Isn't that more of a profession than a class?' he thought.
The notion puzzled him, lingering in the back of his mind. It wasn't the right moment to question further, as it might reveal his ignorance of common knowledge. Even Jay's memories offered no answer, leaving the mystery unsolved.
Pushing the thought aside, they spent the remainder of the morning laboring to clean and restore the tavern to a habitable state. Dust was swept away, broken furniture was mended or discarded, and the lingering scent of neglect was gradually replaced by freshness or something close to it.
"Now, I just need to restock, and we'll be ready to open tomorrow," Jamie commented, surveying their handiwork with a satisfied smile.
"Yes, but will it still be called the Fat Pig?" Eliza asked, her hands on her hips. "Doesn't seem like the kind of place that fits you."
"True," Jay interjected, leaping gracefully from one polished table to the next.
"No, it needs a new identity," Jamie agreed. "I'll commission a new sign. We'll call it The Golden Fiddle."
Eliza arched an eyebrow playfully. "But your fiddle isn't golden," she pointed out.
He flashed a confident grin. "It doesn't need to be—yet. Once this place thrives, we'll be able to buy as many golden fiddles as we want."
She chuckled, shaking her head. "Ambitious, aren't we?"
"Always," he replied.
Eliza glanced toward the doorway, a hint of concern shadowing her features. "It might be best not to leave the tavern unattended. Someone might try to steal or wreck it."
"Good point," Jamie conceded.
"I can stay this afternoon while you go find suppliers," she offered. "Make sure we have enough wine for the reopening."
He placed a hand over his heart. "Thank you, Eliza. Your help is priceless."
"Don't mention it," she said with a shy smile.
As Jamie gathered his satchel, Jay floated beside him. "Don't forget we need to speak with this Knall fellow," the cat reminded him.
"I haven't forgotten," Jamie replied as they stepped outside into the chaotic street. "If people here truly haven't tasted beer, it could give us a significant edge."
Jay tilted his head. "I have no idea what beer is," he admitted.
Jamie replied. "You don't know about a lot of things, my friend. That doesn't tell me much."
Feigning offense, Jay clutched his spectral chest dramatically. "You should be more careful with your words—they can be quite piercing, you know."
"Alright, explain this to me—how on earth does she have a profession instead of a class?" Jamie demanded, his gaze fixed intently on Jay. The ethereal feline was currently preoccupied with a display in one of the shop windows, its contents glittering under the midday sun.
"Who?" Jay turned his head quizzically, his eyes reflecting innocent confusion.
"Eliza. Her class is 'Cook,'" Jamie clarified, a hint of exasperation seeping into his voice.
"And what's the issue with that?" Jay asked, still not grasping the source of Jamie's frustration.
Jamie, who usually prided himself on maintaining an impeccable poker face, felt his composure slipping. Dealing with Jay's occasional obliviousness could be as trying as navigating the labyrinthine streets of the Lower Quarter.
"How—is—it—possible—for—her—to—have—a—class—like—that?" he enunciated each word through gritted teeth, his patience waning.
"Ah! I think I understand your confusion," Jay exclaimed, a spark of realization igniting in his eyes. "She must not have paid the church."
Stolen novel; please report.
"That influences the classes people receive?" Jamie asked, his eyebrows arching in surprise.
"Undoubtedly," Jay affirmed.
They were making their way toward the city's southern gate, where Eliza had mentioned Knall's shop was located.
Unlike the northern entrance, hemmed in by the haphazard dwellings of the Lower Quarter, the southern gate was flanked by charming, opulent boutiques. They beckoned to travelers and merchants alike, their facades adorned with colorful awnings and intricate carvings—a stark contrast to the grimy alleys Jamie had grown accustomed to.
"There are four distinct tiers of classes," Jay continued. "Common Classes, Rare Classes, Unique Classes, and Legendary Classes. The larger your donation to the church, the higher the cleric who oversees your Class Awakening. A more powerful cleric increases the chances of receiving a better class."
"So donating more improves your odds of obtaining a superior class?" Jamie questioned, absorbing this new information.
"Absolutely," Jay replied without hesitation.
"Then what tier does a Bard fall under?" Jamie pressed.
"What is the color in the name of your class?" Jay asked.
"Color?" Jamie replied, summoning his Status Page.
Looking again, the word Bard seemed to have a light blue color.
"Light blue," Jamie replied.
"It would be considered a rare class," Jay explained. "Any class that grants access to magic is typically rare. Everyday professions are classified as common since they don't bestow any spells. For instance, Cook, Blacksmith, Farmer—those are all Common Classes."
"I see." Jamie nodded thoughtfully, beginning to piece together how the system functioned. "In our case, we paid a significant amount, so a Bishop conducted our Passage, correct?"
"Exactly," Jay confirmed. "Only nobility have their Passage performed by a Bishop. The rest of the masses undergo the ceremony with clerics who assist the Bishop. The Frostwatch family would occasionally pay extra for certain servants to receive special consideration."
"Why would they do that?" Jamie inquired, genuinely curious.
"If someone among the staff showed exceptional talent or prowess in combat, they could be of great value to the family's interests," Jay explained. "Investing in their Class Awakening could yield a Rare or even Unique Class, benefiting the estate in the long run."
Jamie stood at the center of the bustling square before the southern gate of Hafenstadt. Although he had ventured this way a few times before, unlike in other city areas, he hadn't studied its layout in detail. Today, he carefully observed each street, trying to determine which path would lead him to Knall's shop.
As he scrutinized the storefronts, a sudden clamor shattered the market's routine sounds. The alarm bell atop the southern gate began to toll frantically. Jamie's gaze snapped upward, and his brow knitted in confusion—it was the first time he'd heard them use the bell.
Almost instantly, the atmosphere shifted. The lively chatter ceased as people froze, their faces blanching. Then, like a startled flock, they scattered. Mothers grabbed their children, vendors abandoned their stalls, and everyone rushed to the safety of their homes and shops without a second thought.
"Close the gates!" a soldier shouted, his voice strained as he and others sprinted toward the massive wooden doors. Some braced themselves against the gate, pushing with all their might, while others fumbled nervously with their weapons, hands trembling so badly they nearly dropped their spears.
"Jay! Jay! What's happening?" Jamie called out the cat, who perched anxiously on his shoulder.
"It's a Monster Rush! Find somewhere to hide!" Jay urged, his eyes wide with urgency.
"A what?" Jamie began, but the answer came unbidden.
The ground beneath his feet trembled with a growing rumble, like distant thunder or a stampede. The southern gate shuddered violently. Then, over the tops of the city walls, small green figures began to swarm—hundreds of them—spilling over like a vile tide breaching a dam.
Chaos erupted as the creatures descended upon the city. Goblins—twisted, malevolent beings, their hunched bodies agile and quick. They leaped from the ramparts with uncanny ease, brandishing crooked swords, rusted axes, and crude improvised weapons. Their tattered, filthy rags barely covered their scrawny frames, and their eyes glinted with pure malice.
"Goblins!"
"Run!"
"Monster Rush!"
The citizens' screams mingled with the goblins' shrill cries, creating a cacophony of terror. The goblins hit the ground running, wasting no time as they scurried into streets and alleys. They smashed through shop windows, kicked down doors, and ransacked everything in sight. Locked doors offered only a momentary obstacle—they moved swiftly to the next target, sowing destruction as they went.
Barrels of goods were shattered, their contents spilling into the streets. Stalls were overturned, and wares trampled underfoot. Anything that could be carried was snatched up by greedy, clawed hands. Tendrils of smoke began to curl into the sky as the goblins set torches to dry thatched roofs and wooden beams, the crackle of flames adding to the bedlam.
Some of the soldiers near the gate fought valiantly to stem the tide, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. For every goblin they felled, three more clambered over the walls, their ranks seemingly endless. Panic etched itself onto the faces of the guards as they realized the futility of their stand.
Jamie tore his gaze from the horrifying spectacle and sprinted away from the main streets. His mind raced as he darted through the warren of side alleys he knew so well. With his heart pounding in his chest, he sought refuge, any place to regroup and make sense of the chaos.
But as he turned a corner into a narrow passageway, he skidded to a halt. The sight before him made his blood run cold.
In the confined space of the alley stood three goblins, each gripping a jagged dagger. Their lips curled into wicked snarls, and their eyes gleamed with predatory delight. Cowering before them was a young girl, no more than nine years old. She had fallen to her knees, her palms scraped and bleeding, tears streaking down her dirt-smudged cheeks.
Time seemed to slow as Jamie took in the scene. The girl's wide, fear-filled eyes mirrored those of his little sister. A fierce protective instinct ignited within him.
"What am I doing?!" he chastised himself aloud.
[author]
Thank you so much for reading!
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[/author]