by Pirateaba
“I will do so.”
She waited. After a minute of walking, the Worker spoke again.
“I would like to be known as ‘Pawn’. It is a fitting name for this individual.”
Erin nodded. She gave him a weak smile.
“Hi, Pawn.”
“Hello. Erin Solstice.”
“…Will your friends be like you?”
Pawn looked over his shoulder. The other Workers looked away. He bowed his head.
“They are afraid. They will not be like me.”
“That’s fine.”
“But I have told them what it means to regret the passing of individuals. They understand.”
“Really? Good.”
Pawn nodded.
“They—we. We are all sad.”
“…I’m glad.”
They came to the inn on the hill, and the bodies. Erin stared down at the blood and collapsed. She’d forgotten they were still there.
Pawn caught her before she hit the ground. He helped her up, and Erin sat down while the other Workers surrounded the area. They paused as they surveyed the wreckage of the inn and corpses, and then seemed to come to a decision. As one, the Workers began hauling the corpses away while other of their number began digging several hundred feet away from the inn. More still entered the inn and began dragging out broken wood.
Erin sat in the grass and looked away. She glanced up as one of the Workers dragged out the body of their comrade. Then she threw up.
Eventually, Erin felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She looked up, and saw it was Krshia.
“Erin Solstice. I was looking for you, yes? The Workers, they have finished their cleaning.”
She looked, and saw it was true. The area around the inn was clean. Even the grass had been cleaned with water, and the Workers stood silently around the inn. They were all staring at her.
“Thanks.”
She said it to Pawn, and then to the other Workers. They nodded as one.
“We assist to maintain order and preserve peace.”
“Thank you.”
Krshia stared at the sign above the Wandering Inn. She looked around, and then followed Erin as the human stepped inside.
“So, this is your inn, yes? It looks better than I had thought. Worth defending.”
Erin nodded. She looked around the empty room. The Workers had cleaned it almost to perfection. All the broken chairs and tables were gone. But they hadn’t touched one thing.
A splintered chess piece lay on the floor. Erin slowly walked over to it. It stared up at her, a Drake caught in mid-strike, a spear in his hands.
She looked down at the broken knight piece on the floor, and picked up the base. Carefully, Erin put it in her pocket and looked around. Silent Workers filled the room. More stared through windows.
Erin looked around. She saw the chess board and picked it up. It was heavy in her hands. She remembered sitting at a table and staring at a brown ant across the board.
Her eyes stung, but there weren’t any tears left. Erin brushed at her eyes and then turned with the chess board.
Slowly, Erin brought the board out and set it down in the grass outside the inn. The Antinium formed a huge circle around her, and Pawn stood in the center next to Erin. She sat down, and placed the board in front of her. She gestured, and Pawn hesitated, and then sat opposite her.
Erin looked at him. He was a bit shorter than Klbkch, thinner, and his features were somehow less sharp than Kblkch’s had been. He looked nothing like Klbkch at all, in fact. But her heart still hurt to look at him.
Slowly, Erin put the broken knight on her side of the chess board. Pawn rearranged the pieces on his side. She stared at him. She stared up at the sky. It was too blue, too pristine for a day like this. It wasn’t even night yet.
The sky should be raining blood. The world should be filled with darkness, and the earth should have opened up and swallowed her whole. She should have been paralyzed by sadness, but Erin just felt hollow. She understood nothing. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
And there was nothing she could do about it. So Erin moved a piece on the board. The broken knight moved up to C3. She looked at Pawn. He stared back, and the rest of the Workers stared with him at the human who wept for Antinium.
Erin bowed her head.
“Let’s play chess.”
1.27
Erin sat on a grassy hilltop and played a game of chess. It made life easier. When she was playing, she could forget about life. She could forget about suffering.
She moved her pieces on the chess board, pausing, considering, moving, retreating, taking. It was a dance of strategy and perception and she had learned many of the steps long ago. But chess was always different, with every game. That was why she could lose herself in it.
And yet, it wasn’t just calculation that Erin did. A chess player played against an opponent, and unless it was a computer, they read the other player and danced with them. Mind games were part of chess, just like basic strategy and knowing fundamental moves was. But Erin had never played against a mind like the one that sat opposite her.
She looked up over her pieces at Pawn. He was staring at the board, pondering his next move. Something was wrong with him. It wasn’t just that he had a name. Erin didn’t understand the Antinium, but she understood chess players. And something had seriously gone wrong with him.
He was too good.
“I still don’t get it. Where do levels come from? Why do people have them? Why do people only level up when they sleep?”
“I do not know Erin Solstice. These are mysteries of the world. They are that they are, yes?”
Krshia shifted in her seat in the grass. She sat with Selys, inside the circle of watching Antinium Workers, but distinctly apart from them. She was calm, at least in that she was watching Erin play Pawn, but Selys kept glancing around at the silent Workers nervously.
“Fine. But if that’s the case, why don’t we get levels for everything? Like…walking. Is there a [Walker] class?”
Krshia shook her head.
“Walking is something we do, not something we live for, yes? Only things that we make our goals and dreams form classes.”
“But that does mean you could get a class for eating, right?”
“You mean a [Gourmet]? I’ve heard some rich merchants and nobility have that class.”
“Okay, I think I get it. But people can have multiple classes, right?”
Selys nodded. She was the bigger expert on classes, apparently. It probably had to do with her being a receptionist. Erin frowned, looked at a knight and nearly ran right into the trap Pawn had set. How had he become so good?
“In theory, you could have as many classes as you want. But in practice, even most Adventurers only have three or four classes, tops. It’s because you don’t just get a class even if you qualify for it. It has to become part of your life.”
“Oh, I get it.”
Selys paused. Her tail curled up as she sat with her claws folded politely in her lap. Erin had noticed Drakes were expressive with their tails where their faces told nothing. Krshia on the other hand had a perfect poker face and her tail wasn’t nearly long enough to give anything away.
“Um, did…no one ever tell you this when you were growing up, Erin? I mean, everyone knows this stuff. It’s basic.”
“Even the Antinium? Even the Workers?”
Pawn looked up from the board.
“Yes, Erin Solstice. We are taught such things as we first hatch. All Workers know of leveling, but we seldom do.”
“Why? I’ve gained ten…yeah, ten levels this month.”
Krshia and Selys exchanged a glance. Even the Workers twitched their antennae at each other in their seats.
“Are you serious?”
Erin looked up and saw Selys gaping at her.
“What? I’m only Level 10. Isn’t that low?”
“It is—but—I mean, it is but no one levels up that fast! Erin, normally someone has t
o apprentice to someone else for years before they hit Level 10. Most kids—well, most people our age are barely Level 12 in their chosen profession around now.”
“Really? That just seems so…low.”
Again, Erin had the impression she was the only person in the group that thought that way.
“Well, Level 100 is the highest, right? Doesn’t that mean most people would get to…I dunno, Level 60 or higher before they die?”
Selys laughed—more incredulously than politely.
“You’re joking. Right?”
Erin shrugged. She moved another pawn and took a bishop. Then she realized it was another trap. She was going to lose her other knight.
“Am I wrong?”
Krshia nodded.
“I have known many elderly people. They all have levels in their twenties or sometimes thirties, yes? Not one was above Level 40. Few even reach their thirtieth level. If I had to name those above Level 50, there would only be a few in each continent, yes?”
“So someone over Level 70 for example…?”
Selys looked at Krshia. The Gnoll shrugged.
“I don’t think I know of one living, in any class. I’ve heard legends about warriors that reached that level, but those are ancient stories. You know, the kind where a single hero defeats armies by himself or slays Hydras and Krakens single-handedly. People just don’t level that high.”
Erin nodded.
“Okay. I think I get it. So people level up, but not that high. And you can have more than one class, but you have to level that one up from the start, right?”
Selys nodded. It was a different nod than Erin’s. Her neck was longer, so it looked more like a long bob than the short motion Erin was used to.
“Right. If you were a [Spearmaster] like Relc, say, and then you picked up a sword and started using that, you’d probably get the [Warrior] class until you were high enough level and had enough skills for a [Swordslayer] class or a [Duelist] class or something like that.”
“So classes change names?”
“Are you sure no one’s ever talked to you about this?”
“Klbkch explained some of it to me.”
“Oh. Um. Oh I—well, yes, classes change. It’s just usually in name to represent you’re more specialized or—or you’ve hit a higher level. For instance, [Tacticians] can become [Leaders] or [Generals] or just stay the same depending on what skills you have.”
“So skills define classes? But doesn’t everyone get the same skills when they level up.”
“No. They do not.”
Krshia stared at Erin. Her eyes narrowed as her brow creased together in a frown. Erin paid no notice. She could see more than people thought when she played chess, and she learned more than she let on. But right now? It didn’t matter.
“Everyone gets different skills when they level. Often, they’re the same, but some people get them at different times, or get different variations on skills…it’s about need. Need and want determine what skills we get.”
“And what we do, right? That determines our classes, which determines how our level ups affect us and whether or not our classes change.”
Selys looked relieved Erin was finally getting it.
“Exactly.”
Erin looked at Pawn. He and all the Workers were staring hard at the board.
“Do the Workers have lots of levels? You guys work all the time, so you’ve got to have lots, right?”
He paused and Erin noticed something odd. All of the Workers were focused on the board. But when Pawn moved a piece, suddenly they looked at her, or elsewhere. But whenever she moved a piece, they immediately focused on the board again to the exclusion of everything else.
“We have very few levels, Erin. I myself am a Level 2 [Butcher] and Level 1 [Carpenter].”
“What? Is it—is it because you’re young or something?”
“I have lived more than half of the average Worker’s lifespan. The Workers do not level up frequently. Some do not level at all.”
Erin turned in her grassy seat to look at Selys and Krshia. The Drake flicked her tongue out in surprise.
“I…didn’t know that.”
“Neither did I. But it is not unexpected, yes? Leveling comes from learning, and trials. Without such things there is no experience gained. For one who does the same thing without change, they will not level.”
“And that’s probably why you’ve leveled so quickly, Erin. Starting an inn by yourself—that’s got to be a lot harder than just working in one or taking over a business.”
“Oh. Okay.”
It had been the hardest thing Erin had ever done in her life. She looked down at her stomach and legs folded pretzel-style beneath her. They should have been full of holes, or scarred from countless stab-wounds. Yeah, it was different than just being an innkeeper in a city.
“So the Antinium don’t level up much? I guess Klbkch was an exception.”
“A big one.”
“But doesn’t that mean they’re weak, then? If most Drakes around my age are Level 10 or higher, why aren’t they way stronger than all the Antinium?”
“Erin, have you seen those giant soldier-types the Antinium keep in their tunnels? I caught a glimpse of one walking through the streets this morning.”
Selys shuddered. Her tail twitched several times.
“They don’t need levels, Erin. They’re deadly enough as it is. If you gave them high levels and churned them out the way the Antinium can, they’d be an unstoppable army.”
“Yeah, that’s true. I guess levels can’t replace numbers or muscle, can it?”
“Well, it can, but only if there’s a big difference in levels. Relc for instance…he’s strong. He could probably take on a lot of those soldiers. Not that he would—don’t get me wrong! But he’s Level 32, I think. That’s incredibly different than a Level 13 [Warrior]. Does this all make sense, Erin?”
Erin moved another piece and knew how the game would end.
“I think I get it. Thanks for explaining.”
“I just don’t understand why you don’t know all th—”
Selys was cut off as Krshia elbowed her hard in the side. She hissed rather than squeaked and sat straight up. Krshia broke into the conversation.
“It is curious you do not know of levels, but perhaps your people do not believe in it the same way we do, yes?”
“Yeah. Something like that. Is leveling big a part of people’s lives here?”
“Some would call it religion. Some yes, some worship levels instead of Gods, Erin. In some places leveling is preached and those with the highest level are worshiped. I have heard it said that to each one of us is a maximum level given, and when we reach that level we have reached the end of their life.”
Silence fell over the grassy audience. Erin turned in her seat and stared at Krshia.
“Seriously? Some people believe that?”
Krshia’s gaze didn’t waver.
“Yes.”
“That’s stupid.”
Selys gasped, but Krshia shrugged.
“Some believe, Erin. And who is to say what is true?”
“…I guess.”
Erin turned back to the game and saw Pawn had moved. She tipped over her king.
“I forfeit. Good match.”
Pawn bowed from his seat to her. Erin bowed her head back.
“It was a good game, Erin.”
“It was a great game!”
Selys sat up in her seat and stared at the two players.
“I don’t know much about chess, but I’ve seem Olesm play. You’re way better than he is, Erin. And you…um…Pawn.”
He bowed to her and she flinched.
“I merely learn from Erin Solstice. She is an expert in this game.”
“And that’s another thing. How are you so good at that, Erin? Olesm says you’re the best player he’s ever seen or heard of. Are you a high-level [Tactician], then?”
“No.”
“What about some o
ther class? Or is it a rare skill?”
“No, it’s just skill. Not the kind you get from leveling up. Just skill in the game. I don’t have any levels besides [Innkeeper].”
“But then how are you so good?”
Erin took her time before answering. She reset her pieces and switched the board around. Silently, Pawn moved a piece forwards and she countered. Another game began, but she had the same feeling.
“I just played since I was a kid, that’s all. Every day. At first it was just a hobby, y’know? Something I saw an adult do, but then I found I liked it. When I won my first tournament, I was over the moon. And after that I just kept playing.”
Selys glanced at Krshia.
“But wasn’t chess invented only a year ag—”
Again, she received an elbow in the side and glared at Krshia, but then she stared at Erin in sudden interest.
“Well, I guess maybe here it’s new. But chess has been around a lot longer where I come from.”
Erin smiled briefly.
“A lot longer. And lots of people love to play it where I come from. There’s strategy books, lessons online, tutors…I learned it all. Fun fact? I learned how to play chess blindfolded before I learned how to ride a bike.”
She moved another piece. After a second of staring, Pawn moved his queen and took it. She frowned and kept playing. Memory was overlapping with reality.
“I was never the best. But I was good. Really good. For my age? I was incredible. I played in tournaments, I stayed up late playing chess—my parents let me. They knew I had a gift. So I would study chess every moment I had free time, play adults, go to chess clubs and tournaments after school, and I kept winning. But then once you get to a high enough level, you start losing.”
Like now. Just like now, and then, Erin stared at a board and felt outclassed. She moved a rook and watched it die two moves in the future to protect her queen.
“It happens. And it’s not surprising. Even a genius kid can’t beat an adult who’s played thousands—tens of thousands more games. But every time I lost it crushed me. So I quit.”
“You q—ow! Stop hitting me!”
Erin smiled, but it was fleeting. Her entire focus was devoted to the game before her, and speaking.
“Somewhere…sometime I guess I lost interest in playing chess. Or maybe I stopped having fun. I don’t know how to explain it. I was just a kid, but I spent every waking moment playing the stupid game, going to tournaments, studying, winning, losing—I never really lived. I never played with my friends.”