by Pirateaba
“Blueprints?”
“A simple map. I can’t see well, but let’s assume Riverfarm is here. And if we’re rebuilding the village, why not make it efficient? We can put all the fields together here, rather than each farmer have their own. And houses could go here…feel free to tell me if I’m making sense, Mister Prost.”
In a few minutes Prost and I are scuffing at the ground with a stick, plotting out a village in the wet dirt. I can’t sense the impressions in the ground unless they’re fairly deep, but it’s simple enough for Prost to get a handle of my idea, and then he’s off with it.
“We could certainly build more houses like you’re suggesting, sire. The ground’s uneven over here, but if we had a few [Diggers] or Durene picked up a shovel, I don’t see why we couldn’t smooth over parts and—and well, the village could be twice as large as before! And the fields—some of us [Farmers] have talked the idea over, and some fields we could all work on is an enticing idea, ‘specially if we combined teams of oxen. We never tried the idea because we quarreled over sharing the harvests, but if it’s all of us working in the village together, I don’t see why not.”
“Excellent.”
I have an idea of Riverfarm in my head. It’s got a river running by the village, which is where the name comes from, but until recently the villagers had a very small plot of land they’d tamed and farmed on. The new village, the rebuilt one would expand that space and create a space with larger fields, more houses…and more organized structure, too. There would be a main road and houses would be adjacent to one another, rather than built wherever the original owners wanted them.
Prost and I stare at the blueprints in the dirt for a few seconds, before reality hits. The older man sits back on his haunches and shakes his head slowly.
“It’s a grand idea you’re thinking of, sire. But can it be done? We’ve a few folks with Skills in woodworking and building, and I reckon Durene could lift up a beam herself, but it’s such a large thought I can’t imagine it. You think it can be done? Truly?”
I smile. Here’s one of my tests. Prost doubts we can do this. I do too, honestly—my ideas are so nebulous, I can’t figure out how to put them into action. However, I’m a leader and so I have to reassure him. And myself.
“A new village? Why not? There are trees aplenty in the forests, and I know we have people with [Carpenter] classes here. We can build the houses one at a time and create a new village while the adventurers guard us and we live off of what I brought from Invrisil.”
I reach out and clasp Prost on the shoulder, making him start.
“Remember, Mister Prost, we’re not doing this by ourselves. A house is a challenge for a single person or a family, but a village? We could put up the first house in a matter of days or less. Why don’t we do it like this? We’ll build three houses, lay foundations, and get to work measuring, cutting wood, and so on, while we reclaim the village from the snow. We build them where we planned…and go from there. Sound good?”
“When you put it like that, sire, I can’t help but think it sounds easier. Truly.”
Prost nods as he stands up. He’s hesitant, but now I’ve reduced the problem to a manageable one to him, he’s already thinking of who had the best Skills to start work.
That’s what I need. Because I don’t know the villagers well enough myself. I go with Prost out of the village limits, towards the new building spots. Halfway there I pause and grimace.
“Something the matter, sire?”
I hear Prost’s voice, but I can no longer sense him. I’ve gone…well, blind again. I must have left the village’s limits.
“I think I’ll have to stay here, Mister Prost. You check the spot we were discussing and see if it’s usable. I’ll wait here.”
Prost leaves and I kick at the invisible boundary where my sense of the world starts to fade away in my head.
“This might be a problem.”
My [Emperor]’s senses don’t extend outside of the limits of the village. The land I claim is the only place where they work. Which is a problem whenever I go travelling, or in cases like now.
I have an idea about how to fix that. Well, I didn’t come up with the idea. But still.
It’s something for later, though. Prost comes back with the news that the spots I suggested would work. He’s talking about asking the Fairfield family to help out, and getting Gamel and a few of the ‘lads’ to get some axes to cut down a few good trees—only the best wood will do, obviously, so we’ll need to find someone with a good eye for it.
I take a breath and cut Prost off. There’s something I’ve been meaning to do, something I’ve been advised to do. It might work, and if it does, it’ll help Riverfarm—and me.
“Mister Prost, there’s one last thing we need to talk about. That’s why I wanted to talk alone with you.”
Instantly the man becomes wary. He clears his throat.
“I uh, wondered if it might come to this, sire. About Durene…I can’t say how sorry I am about how I behaved. And the others too. But myself…I can’t apologize. I can only ask for—”
“What? Oh. Not that.”
I wave a hand at Prost, surprising him. He blinks, and I shake my head.
“What? But sire—the way I behaved—”
“I’m not going to berate you for the past, Mister Prost. Not now. Not after what’s happened. What you’ve all lost. No. That would be petty, and cruel, I think. You’re trying to make amends. I know you apologized to Durene and frankly…no. There’s something else I want to speak to you about.”
“Yes, sire?”
He sounds more nervous, if that’s possible. I try to reassure him, but give up and get into it. I walk with Prost around the edge of the village, feeling my sense of the world dim and brighten as I stumble through deep snow. Prost walks with me, tense, watching me. But trusting, too. He trusts me.
“I’m going to rule the village. I claimed it, and I am an [Emperor]. I’m a bit surprised you all would want me to lead you—”
I silence Prost as he opens his mouth again.
“—But I understand. However, I’m not experienced. I’m a low-level [Emperor] and frankly, I have no idea how to build anything. I’m not a [Farmer] and Durene knows more about raising animals than me. I need someone with all these Skills to help me coordinate the villagers.”
“Milord, I’m happy to do what I can. Me and the other older folk—we’re at your disposal. And young Gamel seems to be growing up right quick. If you need something, all you have to do is ask.”
“Yes, but asking means I have to think of it. And there are things I won’t think of, Mister Prost. That’s why I need a second-in-command. Someone who can do the thinking—and the asking—without me.”
I hear Prost gulp as he understands what I’m getting at.
“And that person who’s doing the asking…is that me, sir? Why me? I know I’ve taken it upon myself to take our orders, but I’m hardly like our last [Village Head]. I’m no leader.”
I nod. A [Village Head] is a type of [Leader], if a weak one. I suppose I fill that role, but an [Emperor] is too large to lead a village. All my Skills would apply to my empire, not an individual farm. Which is why…
“I know that. You are a [Farmer], Mister Prost. A good one, I think. Well thought of, but a farmer nonetheless. I need a leader, someone who can inspire people and manage them in my stead. Which is why I’m asking if you would take on another class for me.”
“Another—another class, sire? You mean become the village’s head? I reckon I could, but I’d only be Level 1, and you’re an [Emperor]—”
“No, not that. I mean, take on another class that I gave you. [Steward], to be exact.”
“[Steward]? Me?”
Prost stops in his tracks. He stares at me.
“But I—[Steward] is a noble title, sir! It’s as close to a lordship as—most [Kings] appoint a [Lord] as a [Steward]! I’m not worthy of such a class!”
“Yes, well, I could mak
e you a [Lord] too, but I think that’s too many classes to handle at once. Don’t gape, Mister Prost. I said I wasn’t going to do it.”
“But—why me, sire? Why me?”
I stop in the cold snow and run a hand through my hair. I look at Prost, and wish I could see him, not just sense what his face is roughly doing.
“Why not? A ruler needs a [Steward], someone to manage their affairs. I am an [Emperor]—why shouldn’t I be able to give you that class? I made Durene a [Paladin]. If you’re willing, I’ll name you as my [Steward] and put you in command of all of Riverfarm. Under me, of course.”
He pauses for a long time in the snow. I think…no, I can’t tell what he’s thinking. But when Prost speaks, I can hear the wobble in his voice. The uncertainty, back again.
“I’m not worthy, sire. No—your majesty. Emperor Laken. I wouldn’t have imagined you were such a man, to be honest, but I can see it in you now. But sire, I know myself and I am not worthy of the class. I couldn’t be a [Steward], not a good one. I know that. You know that.”
I shake my head.
“No. You are not worthy. I agree with you on that, Mister Prost. However…none of us are. I need a [Steward], and you are the only person I can think who might fill that role. Gamel is too young, and I don’t know the others. But you? You are a man people trust. A man I think I can trust. And you have that one quality which makes me believe in you.”
“What’s that?”
He stares at me, hungry for an answer, words that can reassure him. I look into Prost’s eyes and open mine. Just for a moment. He flinches as he stares into my pupils, but he meets my gaze. And I speak from the heart.
“Change. I have seen you change. If you can change from a man who refused to accept that I could love a half-Troll, Durene, to a man who calls me [Emperor], then perhaps you can also become a man worthy of leading others. Because you must. You are needed, Prost Surehand. The village needs you. Your family needs you. I need you. Will you help me?”
For a long time he’s still. So long in fact that my eyes hurt and I have to close them. I’m not used to keeping them open. But I can still sense Prost there. At last he does speak.
“I’m not—but you know what. Milord, my [Emperor]…you say you need me. I…I’m humbled.”
There are tears in his voice and on his cheeks. They freeze in the cold. Prost bows towards me, deep.
“If you ask, I will do my best. I cannot promise…that is all I can do.”
“That is all I ask. In that case, Prost, kneel if you would.”
He goes to his knees in the snow. I reach out. There’s no grand pronouncement on my part, no long ceremony. I speak and it is done.
“You are my [Steward]. Manage my village Prost. Direct my people. I have faith in you.”
Tears fall into the snow. Prost stands.
“Will I gain the class tonight?”
“I think so.”
I have a suspicion. A hint. Prost wipes at his eyes and blows his nose on his sleeve. I smile, and bring him back into reality.
“Alright then. Let’s get to work.”
The moment passes. Prost and I head back to the village and we’re consumed by people. People, villagers with no idea what to do or what tomorrow holds. But they look towards me, and as Prost raises his voice and steps forwards, ordering the folks he knows around and dealing with minor squabbles, small complaints, they look towards him as well.
All in all, not a bad start.
Day 57
The next day I’m nearly shaken to death as Durene seizes me out of my bed and rattles me around.
“Laken! Laken! You won’t believe what’s happened to Mister Prost! He gained a class! And—and lost his levels!”
“What? What? Stop shaking me, Durene! Put me down and tell me what’s happened.”
Having a half-Troll lover is a wonderful thing in many ways. But when she’s excited, Durene is fully capable of lifting me up like a kitten. And I, like kittens, do not take well to being shaken.
When I’m on the ground and sipping some tea, Durene spills the entire event to me, which everyone in the village has already heard of. Prost went to sleep late last night and heard himself get a new class—[Steward].
That doesn’t surprise me, although it’s similar to someone winning the lottery as far as the other villagers are concerned. This class makes Prost important, just as being an [Emperor] makes me important. After all, [Stewards] are hardly common. Well, not in this world. Airline stewards are hardly anything to write about…but I digress. The thing that makes me sit up and has Durene in more of a frenzy is the other thing that happened to Prost, though.
“He lost his levels! All of his levels in [Farmer] and [Builder]—and the one level he had in [Trader]! It’s all gone! And he leveled up eight times as a [Steward]! Can you believe it? Can you believe—oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to shake you again!”
When I’ve gotten the hot tea cleaned off of me, I get the fine details. Last night Prost lost all his [Farmer] levels, and he had been a Level 20 [Farmer], as well as the few levels he had in other classes. In exchange, he became a Level 8 [Steward] right off the bat.
No one in Riverfarm had ever experienced anything like it. I hadn’t either, but I knew what it was.
“It’s called class consolidation, Durene.”
“That’s what Prost said! I heard about it—like how a [Commander] could take the [Soldier] class and [Sergeant] class and turn it into one thing, but—all of Prost’s levels? They’re all gone and…he only gets eight?”
“I think it’s because all of his farming experience doesn’t transfer over into being a [Steward], Durene. It gives him some insights, but it is a sacrifice. Mind you, he can still farm and I think he’ll have some of his Skills or all of them still, but he’s got a new class now that supersedes his old ones.”
Durene is tearing at her hair, practically out of her mind with all these revelations. She paces around the cottage, and now she stops and stares at me.
“Wait, you knew that was going to happen, Laken? How?”
I smile mysteriously and tap at my lips.
“Let’s just say I had an inkling, Durene. As for the how…I’ll tell you later. How’s Prost taking the change? Never mind, let’s go find him. I’ll have breakfast in the village.”
We hurry out of her cottage. For once no one’s waiting to greet me—everyone’s too busy gawking at Prost. He’s at the center of attention in the village.
It seems his family, his two surviving daughters and wife regard his loss of levels as a terrible thing—but more than made up for by taking a ‘superior’ class. When everyone finds out that I’m the one behind Prost’s class, I think they might mob me, demanding how I did it and asking—hinting, rather—that they would love to be a [Lord] or [Knight] or so on. Prost has to assert his new class and Skills to restore order.
After a while, we get back to work. Prost has several valuable new Skills, all of which he confides in me and no one else. Chief among them are [Talent Finder], and [Eye of Need], which helps him find the people best suited for a task, whether they know it or not. He can also tell what we’re low on and what issues are most critical and require attention.
In short, he’s turned overnight from a [Farmer] into someone with the right skillset for what I need. The change in his class doesn’t change him as a person, but it’s terrifying to see how competent and sure of himself he became from me telling him he had a different class.
That knowledge and the knowledge that the advice I was given was right weighs on my mind for all of twenty minutes before the adventurers get my attention. Beniar and Odveig have apparently nominated Wiskeria to talk to me, perhaps because she’s the most well-spoken.
I don’t care, but it gives me an opportunity to get another measure of her as she delivers her report. The adventurers have traveled in every direction for quite a few miles thanks to the Windfrozen Rider’s mounts, and found any number of spots devastated by the avalanche, but few dan
gers to speak of.
“We uncovered what looks like a bear’s den in the hills, but there’s no other large animals or monsters nearby. We’ll keep an eye on it, but the bear should stay put until the spring. With your permission, we’ll range further afield and try to bring back some fresh meat.”
Wiskeria’s report is concise and to the point. She gives me her opinion that the village is safe from all but opportunistic scavenger animals—the occasional fox and squirrel—and the adventurers are already growing restless, looking for a challenge.
I give her full rein to have some of the adventurers hunt and others help with the village, and then bring up a topic more important to me.
“I hope you and the others weren’t too surprised by my, ah, class. I didn’t mean to keep it hidden, but the attention would have been troublesome in Invrisil. Are you surprised, Wiskeria?”
The [Witch] pauses for a moment before she replies.
“I am…amazed, your majesty. I hope my team has not offended you in any way. Odveig was worrying, and I think Beniar is afraid to speak with you.”
I listen to her voice. Wiskeria’s tone is straightforward, but there’s not as much stunned incredulity in her tone as there is in the other adventurers when I speak to them. I shake my head.
“I took no offense. But I hope your teams can be counted on to be a bit discreet?”
“Of course, sir. If you wish it, none of us will speak about your class.”
I smile.
“And you haven’t already sent back word to Invrisil that I’m an [Emperor]?”
This time I sense Wiskeria hesitate. Aha.
“I—”
“I don’t mind. Just please know that I’d prefer an unpleasant truth to a lie to my face.”
“Yes, your majesty. My deepest apologies.”
She bows her head and I feel uncomfortable. I cough.
“I imagine you have some questions about why I choose to settle in Riverfarm. And who I am, I suppose.”