Vaan scrolled through the list of General Skills, his finger hovering over each option as he considered his choices. Inspect, Hide Status, Reading, Polishing, Maintain Arms, Quick Sleep, Cleaning, Climbing, Swimming, Steady Grip... a mix of practical and specialized skills. Some people had even more options, but whether that was due to their background or sheer luck, he wasn’t sure.

  Most initiates took Inspect and Hide Status without thinking. The first was essential for gauging people and objects, while the second kept others from doing the same. But what did he have to hide?

  He thought about Climbing and Swimming, both skills he’d already honed over the years. Taking them might refine his ability, but Steady Grip felt more useful. A versatile skill that could help him wield a weapon properly, steady his strikes at the forge, maybe even keep his hands from shaking under pressure. Garix would approve.

  With a decisive tap, he selected Inspect and Steady Grip. A quiet chime confirmed his choices were locked in.

  It wasn’t until late afternoon that he met up with Ronald and Tal. Apparently, the altar square was still full, and the class initiation ceremony was still not complete for some of the folks. Though they heard the crowd had gotten thinner and Petros had delegated to one of the deputies and made his way back to the watch. They didn’t go there though. Instead, they slowly made their way to the training grounds near the watch.

  "So where is Risa? I thought you guys were all hanging around," Vaan asked, his tone casual.

  Ronald and Tal exchanged glances, then identical grins stretched across their faces.

  "What? I just saw you all leaving my home in a crowd, didn't I?" he replied defensively

  "So, you sure you just want to see her?" Tal nudged him with an elbow as Ronald waggled his eyebrows obscenely.

  Vaan rolled his eyes. "Piss off, You’re both pigs".

  “Our lovesick pup has some guts, I'll give you that," Ronald continued, ignoring him. "Chasing after a girl who's practically got 'Lord Elijah's Future Wife' tattooed on her-"

  “Elijah’s a wimp for letting his noble father handle his love life," Vaan snorted.

  Tal whistled. "Damn, don’t hold back or anything. Let it all out, my man"

  Vaan sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Well, it’s a mess, isn’t it? Not that it’s any of my business. She’s a good friend... deserves better, s’all." He muttered the last part, clearly not convincing either of them. "Friends look out for each other," he added with more conviction.

  Tal nodded dramatically. "Mhm. And I 'look out' for the miller’s daughter for her very kind heart, of course. You know, the one she wears so proudly."

  "Yeah, man," Ronald chimed in with a wink. "Me too."

  Vaan shot them both an incredulous look. "You’re both disgusting," he growled, shaking his head. "No wonder she barely spoke to me this whole year." He turned and stormed off, his friends chuckling as they followed in his wake.

  The training grounds were busier than usual, with initiates practicing their forms and older guards overseeing them. Vaan observed them all with his inspect turned on. He got most of their names but only because he knew them beforehand. They were all of Spearman, Swordsman, Guardsman classes. Their levels and other details came out blocked due to the level disparity despite his high acuity. They walked on slowly and then Petros, Galantis, the ‘Elite Guardsman’ stepped into the view of his inspect.

  He carried himself with the ease of a seasoned warrior, his armor well-worn but pristine. Petros wasn’t just another guardsman. It was rumored that he was almost near 'Ascension', but Vaan did not know if it was true.

  "Vaan had seen him plenty of times but had never spoken to him directly. A friend of Garix from their adventuring days, Petros still relied on his father’s forge for weapon maintenance. He looked younger than Garix, maybe forty-five, but Vaan didn’t know for sure. After all, those who neared Ascension aged differently, their vitality stretched by power. Not that warriors often lived long enough for age to be a concern, as they often succumbed in battle. Wragford, though, was relatively peaceful, which was why someone nearing Ascension was considered a huge feat, worthy of awed gossip and, of course, rumors. Level 25, the first milestone, was termed ‘Awakening,’ and Level 50, the second milestone, was called ‘Ascension.’ Apparently, each of these milestones offered a choice on how their class progressed, and it was a crucial decision."

  "Glad to have you," Petros said, nodding at them. "But formal enlistment isn’t until Aerisday. Today’s Viros, so that’s in two days."

  Only after that did he register that it was Vaan. “Vaan, how fares Garix?” he asked solemnly.

  “Hale and healthy in the forge, sir! He often speaks of you.”

  “Is that so?” Petros twirled his mustache, looking proud. “Well, a fine swordsman, he was. Pity we lost him in the watch, but let’s see how you fare in his path.” He nodded, and Vaan recognized it as a dismissal.

  That left them with time.

  While loitering around the village, wishing other initiates and family members, they spotted Risa and her friends. Ronald and Tal exchanged a glance, grinned at each other, then called out to her. She made her way over, and they immediately picked on her and Vaan.

  "Risa!" Tal called with a grin. "You joining the celebration? or are you just gonna leave Vaan here to miss you terribly?"

  Vaan rolled his eyes, clearly unfazed by the teasing. "Forget them, Risa. They’re just trying to pick on you."

  Risa raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Oh? So, you weren't really inviting me, then?"

  “Of course we were! It’s a celebration!” Ronald replied. Tal gave him a covert jab and a pointed look.

  “Well?” she asked Vaan.

  “We’d love for you to join, Risa. No pressure. You can bring your friends with you. It’s going to be big today, and I heard Gaffar has lined up the tavern with imported ale barrels just for today. Everyone’s going to be there.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Risa smiled but shook her head. "Alright, alright. I’ll join, but only for the food. No ale for me."

  Ronald raised his eyebrows in mock shock. "Food only? Where’s the fun in that?"

  With that, they left, leaving her to invite her own friends.

  Later that evening, the trio found themselves at Wragford’s tavern, the Boar & Barrel. The place was alive with celebration, the scent of roasting meat mingling with the rich, hearty tang of ale. Laughter echoed off the stone walls, and the crackle of a bonfire outside added to the warmth of the gathering. The tavern was packed with fresh recruits, their faces flushed from the heat and drink, all buzzing with excitement. Tankards clinked in rhythm with cheerful toasts, and every now and then, someone would burst into song.

  "About time we did this properly," Ronald declared, slapping a hand on the rough wooden table, the sound ringing through the bustling room.

  Vaan smirked. He and Ronald had snuck ale before, but for Tal, this was a first. Vaan had tasted it two years ago, stealing a sip from Garix’s hidden stash. His father had kept the bottle carefully stashed away since then.

  More initiates poured in, some shouting greetings to old friends, others laughing at inside jokes. A few nobles made an appearance, though they kept mostly to themselves, huddled near the fire with their own group. The tavern had set up extra seating outside, where a massive bonfire crackled under the open sky, illuminating the darkening evening and casting flickering shadows over the revelers. They vacated their table in favor of one near the bonfire outside.

  Risa arrived soon after with her usual entourage of girls, much to Ronald and Tal’s delight. They immediately tried to convince them to join their table.

  Near the fire, the old man, Herrin, hunched over a mug, his voice dropping into a low, conspiratorial whisper. "Ah, to be young again..."

  “Oi! Herrin,” someone called out. “That’s the third Hag’s Kiss you’re on. About time you quit. Aren’t you too old for this?”

  “Bah! A man’s got to live some, especially under these troubled times!” Herrin shouted back, his voice loud enough to draw attention.

  “Troubled? Old man, are you fully drunk? It's a celebration after the choosing ceremony, what are you on about?”

  “Undead spirits,” Herrin muttered, his voice lower now. “Wandering the burial grounds at night.”

  “Oh, here we go again,” the same guy who’d yelled at him muttered under his breath.

  “Specters haunt the village, I say. Searching for blood and vengeance,” Herrin rambled on, his gaze distant.

  “A while back, didn’t he say it was direwolves that stalked at night?” someone else murmured.

  Herrin looked at Vaan, wagging his finger threateningly. “It’s the curse of the witch Romi, I tell you. Romi’s curse.”

  Vaan snorted. "Romi’s dead."

  The old man’s milky eyes gleamed. "Saints don’t truly die," he insisted, his voice taking on a more mystical tone. "They live on as Sparks."

  Vaan took another sip of ale. "Then let’s hope Saint Saria protects us all."

  "Ashwa Kingdom rose in her time," one of Risa’s friends whispered, her voice hushed with pious reverence, an expression oddly out of place in a tavern full of drunks. "Some say she even set foot in Wragford."

  "Yeah," Tal scoffed, "like every village claim, just to feel special."

  She scowled at him, immediately vacating her seat in favor of the one near Ronald.

  “Hush, man! Don’t you be blaspheming our village like that!” Ronald immediately chimed in with a fake sailor’s accent. “I’m sure she came here, just as sure as ye look pretty, miss.” He smiled at her, causing her to blush.

  Vaan wished his friend luck. The tavern was full of energy, a riot of fun. The ale, ‘Hag’s Kiss,’ was strong and bitter, but it made him feel light. Garix had asked for his help at the forge tonight, but surely one more drink wouldn’t hurt. He gulped it down, savoring the burn, as the sensation of warmth spread through him.

  Just as Vaan was lost in the revelry, somewhere in the distance, he felt a sharp, unblinking gaze.

  Turning his head, he noticed the Guild Scout sitting alone in the corner, watching. Two nobles, a father and son, tried to engage him in conversation, but the scout barely responded, disinterested.

  The moment Vaan made eye contact, the scout quickly looked away. Vaan tried to get a read on the Guild’s class with his inspect, but either the scout was too high-level, or Vaan had drunk too much to make sense of it.

  Before he could dwell on it, movement near the fire caught his attention.

  Risa stood stiffly as a young Spearman, one of the older village boys who had gotten his class years ago, pressed her to dance. Vaan could see the discomfort in her posture, her forced smile barely hiding her unease. The spearman’s hand was gripping her wrist too tightly, his other hand resting a little too low on her waist as he tried to pull her into the dance. The way the spearman leered at her made his blood boil, and he could tell she wasn’t enjoying a moment of it.

  Andryr, Gobert

  Level 9, Spearman

  Ronald was too drunk to notice, while Risa’s friend, seated near him, looked cross, clearly feeling ignored. Meanwhile, Tal had moved on and was busy twirling the miller’s daughter in a carefree, laughing spin. Neither of them had noticed Risa’s predicament.

  Vaan shifted, ready to step in—

  —but a level 1, Archivist beat him to it.

  Elijah moved effortlessly between them, murmuring something low enough that only Risa and the spearman could hear. The spearman’s jaw tensed, but after a moment, he stepped back.

  Vaan cursed under his breath, stepping closer. Elijah’s presence always grated on him.

  "Didn’t think you had it in you to stand up to someone," Vaan quipped.

  Elijah barely glanced his way. "Go back to your drink, Vaan. You’re wasted."

  Vaan huffed a laugh. "Scared? Not everyone would back away just because daddy’s name is dropped."

  Elijah’s jaw twitched, but instead of rising to the bait, he turned to Risa. "You should leave. It’s getting rowdy."

  "I’m fine," Risa said, her voice steady.

  Elijah frowned and took her hand with force. "It’s not safe."

  Vaan stepped up beside her. "She said she’s fine."

  The tension between them thickened. Vaan was itching to punch Elijah’s smug face. Unfortunately, one of the housemen stepped in. Vaan recognized him from the village circle. Vic Goodson, a Brawler, level 14, according to his 'inspect'. It was surprising as he knew Vic had only gotten his class three years ago.

  "Enough," Vic said, guiding them all toward the exit, Elijah included. Elijah’s face twisted, looking as though his nose was offended by the air, genuinely shocked that he was being escorted out along with the others. It lifted Vaan’s spirits just a little.

  Ronald and Tal trailed behind, looking sheepish. Elijah cast one last glare at Vaan before leaving.

  The cool night air brushed against them as they walked. Tal mumbled an apology and guided a drunk Ronald toward the south end, where their homes were.

  Vaan and Risa walked in silence as he escorted her home. His head was clearer now, the effects of the ale fading, but a strange guilt and something else—something lighter, not brought on by the drink—settled in his chest. He wanted to say something. Maybe apologize, but the more he hesitated, the harder it became. Soon, they arrived.

  They arrived at her yard gate, and she stopped, turning toward him.

  Under the glow of the twin moons, her chestnut hair, loosely tied back, shimmered, casting soft, fleeting shadows on her face. Her sharp eyes still sparkled with that mirth and joy he remembered from childhood, but now they held a depth, a maturity. She was no longer just the girl he had known; she was also a woman, he did not know. Her eyes studied him intensely, reading him, waiting...

  The magic of the moment hung between them, and Vaan felt as if he might shatter it with even the slightest movement.

  Then, without a word, she leaned in and kissed him. It was brief, but the warmth lingered. She pulled away, a small, knowing smile curving her lips before she turned and walked away.

  Vaan stood there for a moment, stunned. Then, a slow, stupid grin stretched across his face. The night had taken an unexpected turn.

  As he stood there, still caught in the spell of the kiss, he thought he heard footsteps behind him. Was it that brat Elijah spying on them? He wouldn't put it past his petty self. Vaan stood still for a moment, then realized that the ale and the kiss had likely muddled his imagination. With a shake of his head, he turned and walked away.