Chapter 4: The Talk

That’s really the only time I ever get in trouble. I decide it isn’t worth the risk to break into the various rooms at the inn, though I do buy an extra lock to practice on, and end up making my own set of lock picks with scrap metal from Inga. It’s not much, but continuing to practice helps me raise the lock pick skill all the way up to 10 before I figure out I need something more complicated to practice on in the future.

Most of my time, though, is taken up with other things. I guess being a thief just isn’t in the cards for me. I start spending more time serving in the main room. I like handing out drinks, taking orders, and most importantly talking to people. I find that if I spend a lot of time talking, I start to get other skills, like Conversation, Listening, and Pacification. That last one, I think, is how my dad is always able to calm down people when they’re angry, to get them to leave or to apologize rather than trying to fight. He’s really good at calming people down. And I’m starting to get the knack for it.

Time is ticking away to when I turn fifteen. And my levelling has slowed way down, which doesn’t surprise me. The experience need is designed to get steeper, so you can’t just grind the same basic stuff to level up. That’s basic game design, and I knew that. I’m not sure it will be possible to hit level twenty before I lose my child trait, so I abandon that as a goal. But I’m going to get close.

George and I are getting close. I’m eight years older than he is, which means he’s five when I’m thirteen, and means he wants to do everything I do. He starts chopping wood with me, he starts throwing axes and knives with me, and he hangs on every word I say. I find that there’s a part of me that really likes teaching, and I end up telling him stories about the history of the world that get me a bit of attention from some of the travelers. Aside from the fact that I’m telling legends of times that are all but lost to history as far as most of the citizens of the world are concerned, some of my writing talent from my old life clearly stuck around.

And between gaining the knowledge skill of Mythology, it shooting up to 15, and gaining the skill of Pedagogy, I manage to hit level seventeen just before my fourteenth birthday. I spend my last year of childhood doing more of the same, telling stories with a mixture of mythology, history, and lore about the various people who come through the inn, and start to get a bit of a reputation as a storyteller. So much so that a few weeks before the start of summer, my parents take me aside to talk about my future, and they bring up something that I hadn't initially considered.

“You’re going to be fifteen soon, Harper,” Mom says, smiling at me. “And that means you won’t be a child anymore. We need to find somewhere for you to apprentice so you can get your skills and attributes up to the right level and get started on a career.”

“It’s a very important decision,” Dad says. “Have you given any thought to what you want to be?”

“What are my options?” I ask. “And am I going to finally get to spend my attribute points?”

That makes Dad laugh. “Tired of having such low scores? I understand that. I remember feeling that way myself. Yes, you’ll get to spend them. But that’s not the only thing that’s going to change when you turn fifteen.”

“What do you mean?”

“When the Child trait expires, the system will calculate all your achievements,” Mom says. “You’ll get a bunch of extra stat points for the various things you’ve done. Your father and I think you’re going to get a lot of them.”

Dad nods. “I’ve seen some of the things you’ve been training yourself to do, and I know you’ve been through a few things that will likely give you even more achievements. Plus I assume you’re going to be a bit higher level than either of your sisters.”

I decide not to add the word ‘combined.’ Jenna was level seven and Inga was level nine when they turned fifteen. I’m not going to make it to twenty, but I’m already level eighteen, and there’s a chance I will make it to nineteen in time, if I’m really lucky.

“You don’t have to tell us what level you are,” Mom says. “In fact, you should never tell anyone. There are some skills that will make it possible for people to guess, with various levels of accuracy.” That was news to me. “But you should never offer up that information. It’s not safe.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“There are a few reasons,” Dad says. “Some people will feel like they can push you around if they know they’re a higher level. Others will think they can use you if you’re a higher level. And then there are nobles who will try to ‘employ’ you if they think you have skills they can use. That employment isn’t entirely voluntary.”

There’s no slavery in this world. Never has been. I know that. I made sure of it. There is no slavery, just like there is no sexual assault. I remember that meeting vividly. They said it was unrealistic. I pointed out that there were cat people, giants, dragons, and magic in this world. If we can pretend that there are different sapient species, if we can pretend there is magic, multiple gods who actually take action in the world, and monsters from myth and legend, then we can pretend that the world is full of people with a basic level of decency that would prevent them from even thinking of things like sexual assault.

I almost walked away from the project. I threatened to quit, and to go to the press, if they didn’t accept my conditions. How well would it have played if I had told the world that this new game was so insistent on there being sexual assault and rape in one of the first games that would allow full user experience? I won that battle.

“What, like they don’t let you quit?” There isn’t even a word for slave in this language. That makes me happy.

“More or less,” Dad tells me. “There are rumors that they will threaten your loved ones, and might even have people killed to keep you employed.”

That does sound bad. While I don’t feel as connected to this family as I might have, I have known them for fourteen years, most of which I remember. They’ve always been around, and they are my family. I don’t want to risk bad things happening to them. So keep things a secret. But also, mental note, try to figure out how to tell what other people are.

“How will I know what to apprentice as?” I ask.

“When you wake up on your fifteenth birthday, you’re going to get offered a few classes,” Mom says. “One of them is Commoner; everyone gets offered that one. You can take it if you don’t want to commit or don’t like what your other options are. Every level up to level twenty you’ll get a chance to change your class, and that’s retroactive, so you’ll have plenty of time to find something you like.”

“But you will also get classes that you qualified for,” Dad assures me. “Depending on your skills. You’ll probably be able to do what either of your sisters do, if you want to. Or you might have other, more interesting options.”

I think my dad knows. He may not be able to put his finger on exactly how high a level I am, but I think he knows I’m higher than normal. The look he gave mom when she said I’d have plenty of time, the way he pays attention to the things I pick up and how doggedly I will stay with something until it stops leveling up, and some of the talks we’ve had just makes me think he knows. It’s Dad’s job to size people up. Actually, I wouldn’t be all that surprised if Dad had one of those skills he was talking about, the ones that let people tell what a person is as far as power level is concerned.

“When I turned fifteen,” Mom says, “I was offered to be a merchant, a barber, or a tinkerer. I didn’t want to travel, though, so I ended up staying a commoner until I married your father, and got offered the chef class.”

I knew Mom had some skills as a barber. She cut everyone’s hair in the family, and while it doesn’t compare to the kind of hair styles I remember from my old life, they’re more extensive than just sawing off a ponytail every so often.

I take a breath. “Okay. So I get a class, I get achievements, and I lose the Child trait. Does anything replace it?”

“Not really,” Dad says. “You can get an Apprentice trait if you go into a profession that requires an apprenticeship – those usually come with the Commoner class. Jenny was a Commoner until about a year ago, when she officially became a Baker. But it’s an optional trait.”

“What does it do?”

“It makes it easier to level up the skills you have and makes it easier to naturally increase your stats, but you get a penalty for learning new skills and still can’t get experience from killing monsters. So don’t take it if you want to be a hunter or something.”

I nod. They’ve given me a lot to think about.

That night, I look at my sheet and think how I’m going to spend my last fortnight as a Child.

Name: Harper. Level: 18. HP: 113. SP: 130. MP: 153. Defense: 44. XP: 7870/10000. Skills: Knowledge: Antro Lore 11, Elf Lore 10, Human Lore 12, Magic Lore 13, Orc Lore 10, Mythology 17, World History 30. Common: Cleaning 23, Conversation 10, Cooking 16, Economics 10, Mathematics 10, Reading 14, Writing 11. Uncommon: Axe 12, Dagger 4, Dodge 9, Eavesdropping 24, Empathy 21, Listening 16, Pedagogy 4, Persuasion 8, Storytelling 22, Throwing 20, Unarmed Combat 10. Rare: Lock Pick 10, Pacification 4, Sense Intention 10.

Strength: 18. Vitality: 23. Dexterity: 24. Perception: 32. Charm: 21. Manipulation: 29. Intelligence: 46. Willpower: 17. Reaction: 20. Ability points: 90. Traits: Child, Deep Knowledge.