Great Things

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Name: Loiel Krieger

Class: Lord of Tyranny (Slave Knight)

Species: Ursine Therian

Level: 12

HP: 1560/1560 FP: 60

Attributes: Vigor: F, Mind: F, Endurance: F, Strength: E-, Dexterity: F, Agility: F+ , Intelligence: F-, Faith: F-, Luck: F-

Equipment: -Broken Sword, -Roughspun Tunic, -Satchel (-3 days of rations, -Climbing Kit, -6 F-tier Vitae Cores)

Effects: -Slave Mark

Class Features: -Unarmored Defense, -Reckless Attack, -Fury, -Danger Sense, -Undying Crusader, -Lethal Speed, -Fanatacism, -Hallowed Ground, -Ruthless Instinct, -Brutal Hand, -Fanatacism, -Pain is Meaningless to Me, -Indomitable Might, -Beyond Death

Proficiencies: -Simple Weapon Proficiency, -Martial Weapon Proficiency, -Shield Proficiency, -Light Armor Proficiency, -Medium Armor Proficiency, -Heavy Armor Proficiency,

Skills: - Perception: F+, -Athletics: E+, -Survival: E-, History: F, Religion: F, Medicine: F

Racial Traits: -Dark Senses, -Relentless Endurance, -Untrammeled Savagery

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‘How remarkable, two children at level 12!" The old man said, staring at me. "How did you kill the Wheezing Dragon?

I called him old, and not simply because anyone with gray hair was old to a child. He was advanced in age, leathery tanned skin and rough hands indicated a lifetime of work outside, but he wore the vestments of a priest. A dark brown, roughspun habit much like Javier wore, a simple hemp rope for his belt, but it was the ornate golden star he wore across his neck and the red cap embroidered with gold upon his head that marked him out as being more than just a mere monk.

I say staring, but that was not accurate. His brown eyes were on me, looking squarely at me, but they were not focused on me. They were fluttering left to right, as if reading. This old man was somehow examining my character sheet, reading off the list of abilities, attributes, and everything else about me that had been abstracted into a word and a number. It felt strangely slimy, as if he were looking at my secrets. But, what was he really able to see?

"Amparo killed it. She shot it with an exploding stone." I said, pointing to Amparo.

"Is this true, young lady?" The old man asked Amparo, who nodded.

"Javier told me to load my sling with one of the magic stones Loiel had collected, and to shoot it." She explained, haltingly, as if she wasn’t sure how to explain it herself. "When I spun the sling, the stone felt hot, and after I released it, the stone exploded."

"Curious. That is normally not something a magic stone does, no matter how it’s treated. Krypteia, interesting…" The old man said, rubbing his chin as he returned his focus to me.

"Ho, hum. Class: Slave Knight." The old man said as he continued his examination, "Mossil, why did you send this girl into the dungeon?"

"We didn’t know what she was, just like Amparo. Rather than waste the time tearing off the slave seal and risk dealing with an insane bear cub, I figured it more prudent to just throw her down there. We only had three days." The huge woman, whom I now knew to be Mossil, said "Besides, bears throw their cubs off of cliffs to ensure they are strong."

"Those are lions, you jackal." The old man said, fully turning his attention to her and threatening to throw a gilded tome "How cruel of you."

"What can I say? A bad deed a day keeps the Deceiver at bay."

The Stone Solari had brought all three of us into what appeared to be an infirmary. Javier was placed at the far end of the room, separated by a curtain, where several monks seemed to be treating him. Occasional flashes of golden light and the soft murmurs of prayers and chanting could be heard behind the cloth barrier. Amparo and I were relegated towards the entrance, being treated by this old man. He called upon several miracles, one to cleanse us of all our dirt, grime and blood. Another, brief prayer closed all of the cuts and scratches on Amparo. Then when he saw me, he used a far more lengthy prayer, after which I felt all the pain leave my body.

"Hey old man, what about Javier?" I asked

"That would be Bishop Aldebardo de Mahuleon to you, young therian." He said with an accusing finger, "And Saint Javier is gravely injured. It is a miracle that he still lives and breathes. He will remain bedridden for a fortnight. A shame really, he will miss the greatest Ascension Feast."

"Ascension Feast?" Amparo asked, clearly more interested in the idea of food, rather than what exactly such a feast was meant to celebrate.

"Yes, one amongst you to survive the Dungeon will be made a Chosen." The Old Man said "A great honor, a great honor."

I wanted to confront him on the ethics of sending mere children down there to die, but I was in their place of power. I wouldn’t doubt that the woman called Missol could brutalize me if I merely spoke out of turn. How many children did they send down there to die?

"Ho, hum. Level 7, but only two class features. -Fury and -Danger Sense? That would be enough to survive in the Dungeon. But what could you be then? A Totem Warrior or Rage Warrior, perhaps?’ He said, stroking his chin, "Attributes are above the norm. Standard proficiencies. Religion and history as skills? A waste on you, but the Deceiver is mischievous. I've never seen an Ursine Therian, but I assume these are normal racial traits.”

I glanced over to where my status screen was floating, and followed his eyes. Their movements matched the reading of my stats, but clearly he was missing things. It made me wonder why. They spoke about how my Slave Knight class obscured my real class, and that removing it would be dangerous. Could it also be obscuring what others see? Then again, I got the distinct impression that being able to see my own character sheet was inherently unusual.

"What are you looking at?" The priest asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Can you see?"

“See what?” I asked. “I was looking at your amulet. It is pretty.”

“Ah yes. This is a symbol of the true god, the one hidden away by the deceiver and the evil god. Once you are initiated, young aspirant, you will come to learn the truth of this world. Maybe then your history and religion skills will be of use!" He said with a self-important chuckle.

"You said you don’t know my class, but it’s Slave Knight, isn’t it?" I asked,

"That’s where the trouble is, young aspirant. Classes can evolve to advanced classes when certain conditions are met. I, for example, was born as a priest, but became a bishop. However, the slave mark turns anyone it receives into the most generic equivalent class. Even someone born with the class of “hero” would appear to all the world as merely ‘slave knight.’” He answered, "But they would still receive all the benefits of their true class. I wish we could strip it from you now and reveal your true class, but alas, the ritual takes time to prepare, and it can be dangerous."

"How can freeing me be dangerous?" I asked, "Javier said that the Stone Solari thought slavery a scourge."

"And it is! Undoubtedly it is. But if we were to do it now, without preparation, you would miss the feast of ascension. And we cannot have that, not after everything you’ve gone through." He said, his attention shifting back to Missol, his tone changing, "What do you think? We have one whose class is obscured, and the other whose class is a mystery to us."

I glanced at Amparo, and realized they were referring to her class of Krypteia. Her eyes were glued to Missol, searching for some kind of answer as to what she was.

"History is filled with instances of mysterious classes whose purpose and abilities remain forever unknown." Missol said, arms crossed and her eyes staring into the distance in contemplation. "This one fought directly with the Wheezing Dragon, while the other killed it. Both could be equally worthy, or it could be none."

"We could put them in for the next Ascension Feast." Bishop Aldebardo offered, taking a seat next to me,

"No, we've never had aspirants this strong, and this will be the greatest Feast of our era. It would be wasteful to not have them attend." Missol said, "I say we put them in, and let God decide. We still have Javier and Kathleen in the running. If it turns out Javier made all the difference, then neither will be chosen and nothing of great value will be lost."

"A little wasteful, but with a feast of this magnitude, I suppose nothing should be spared." He sighed, patting me on the head. "Go then, you two. Follow Missol to the feast hall, and carry yourselves proudly. You have achieved more in your short lives than an old man like me."

Missol beckoned us forth to follow, only for Amparo to ask "Can we at least say goodbye to Javier?"

"Yes, it can be done." Missol said, sighing. She marched to the cordoned off section where Javier lay and peaked her head behind the curtain. They exchanged words, and then Missol said "Come here. You can speak through the curtain."

We both came to Missol's side, and Amparo said "Javier, can you hear us?"

"Yes." We heard him croak.

"We have to go now, but we'll be back. We're going to the Ascension Feast."

"Good, I hope you become Chosen. You are good and wise and strong." Javier said, his voice coughing and rattling.

"Get well soon." I said, as I'd always been bad with these sorts of things.

"I will. I foresaw it. Thank you Loiel, Amparo. When next we meet, one of you will be Chosen."

"Did you foresee that too?" I asked.

"Yes, but I couldn’t tell who." Javier said.

"Then I hope you are the Chosen One Loiel."Amparo said. "I'm not made for great things."

"What a coincidence, neither am I."