Breakfast was some kind of oaty goop. I still forced down a second bowl of the stuff. I had made an agreement after all. At the very least, if Candy was willing to bargain, then it was better than nothing.
I had slept terribly, but I was getting used to it. One day, I would sleep in a proper bed again, and it would be utter bliss.
I still didn’t know what my plan was. Candy just wanted to eat and grow, which left the decision up to me. But my options weren’t exactly equal. I could stay in Appleby and desperately scramble to support myself, or I could continue the journey with new friends and end up in a town with many more options. The decision ended up being fairly straightforward despite my dread of more walking.
Frida was the first downstairs, once again dressed in her vaguely pious attire. She gave me a warm smile, sitting at the table and politely ordering breakfast.
I got another tisane; it weirdly grew on you.
“Sleep alright?” She asked me.
“Better than I would have had sharing a bed with a dozen strangers,” I reassured.
Frida smiled. “What are the inns you’re familiar with like? Everyone gets their own tiny bed?”
“Yes,” I chuckled. “And room, and bathroom, and… suite.”
“How do you not get cold then?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Uh… centralized heating,” I answered, not sure if I should go about explaining it or not. Firstly, plumbing was essentially magic to me, and secondly, I didn’t want to blow anyone’s mind.
“Ah,” she nodded. “That’s expensive magic.”
“Inns tend to be very expensive,” I nodded. “Tended,” I corrected, feeling suddenly less bright.
Frida smiled apologetically. “So, have you decided what your plans are?” She continued, expertly changing the topic.
“I’ll go with you guys,” I replied, grateful for the shift. “I’m not really sure what I would do in Appleby, and I’ve still got to come up with something to pay back your generosity. If it wasn’t for you four, I’d still be sleeping in those damn woods.”
“No, no, don’t be silly. You don’t owe us anything. Those woods aren’t safe. We would have done the same for anyone. Probably anyone in Appleby would have. It’s really no trouble,” she smiled brightly.
I had a feeling it was a slight exaggeration. But… alright then. “More dangerous than slimes?” I asked. I knew for a fact there was more than slimes in those woods, but I didn’t exactly want to bring up the goblins. I had no idea what the geopolitical situation was. Which maybe seemed snooty and a little ridiculous, but the last thing I wanted was to start a war with the stereotypical “bad guy” race, despite them actually being lively.
“Well, all sorts really, the deeper you go, the worse it gets into the mountains. If you stay firmly within the barony, the worst you might get are some hungry dire wolves, maybe some goblins causing a ruckus. Though with the growing hive, most monsters are leaving the area,” Frida explained, daintily eating her slop.
“Oh? How do you figure that?” I asked, legitimately interested.
“Knowledge is my specialty,” she chuckled. “I am an oracle of Cermir.
“Cool,” I grinned. “So like divination and stuff?”
“Some, yes, though given my frequent travels, I have branched out with healing skills. I’m not much good in a fight, but outside of one I am very useful,” she explained.
“Yeah, I imagine,” I nodded, remembering the glow of her magic. “I’m a bit jealous, I’ve always wanted to be some kind of mage.”
“Well, you’ll certainly have the opportunity, no?” She pointed out.
“I hope so,” I shrugged, deciding to leave out my brief moment of all-encompassing power. “I’ve only got one mana point right now, so it might be a while.”
“Only one?” She frowned.
“Uh, yes?” I replied. “What am I missing?”
“Well, nothing, it’s just… um…” She suddenly looked awkward, quickly eating another bite of slop to avoid answering. But it wasn’t like that would work forever. “It just may be that you aren’t the most um… magically gifted,” she smiled, though it really was just a grimace.
“Well, duh, yeah,” I laughed nervously. “But I can upgrade my mana once I level up, no?”
“You can increase your stats, certainly. But your hit points, mana, and stamina are a little more complicated. Yes, your stats play a factor, but your class, profession, and accompanying skills play a large role as well,” she explained, waving her spoon as she spoke.
“Oh,” I muttered.
“For example, my class of Oracle, combined with my profession of Nun, plus my high soul stats and acquired skills, grants me almost 100 MP even at my tier,” she continued. “But my endurance is only 30, and my HP is even lower. Someone who grew up farming and became a lumberjack would have much higher stamina even at a lower tier.”
I nodded, trying to wrap my brain around it all. “Wait, mind stats?”
“Ah, right. Strength, agility, endurance, and vitality are body stats, while wisdom, intelligence, perception, and willpower are mind stats,” she clarified.
“Right, okay, that makes sense,” I mutter with a long exhale.
“Anyway, one is… rather low, but given your circumstances, it makes sense you don’t have a class or profession yet. Just give it some time, once you’re settled in, I’m sure it will all work out,” she smiled kindly.
I nodded, deciding not to mention the Slime Host elephant in the room. “So uh… how does one get a class and profession?”
“Well…” she hummed. “I mean, it's not so straightforward, and both are subject to change and often do frequently. Your class is your main passion, your talents, what occupies your desires and wants. Your profession, on the other hand, is simply how you navigate your day-to-day life, what the main constraints are, the kind of work you do, and so on.”
“Hmm, okay, so if I really want to cast magic, I’d get some kind of mage class?” I asked.
“Likely yes, but it’s more an amorphous representation of the path you're on. Your wants and needs aren't always the same, nor are you always aware of them. Regardless, whatever class you get and evolve will always fit you. Your profession is much more flexible,” she continued. “I might be a nun, but life in a nunnery, certainly wasn’t for me, so… here I am,” she chuckled. “But I am still technically a nun.”
“Thanks, Frida, this has given me a lot to think about," I let out a breath.
“Of course. Happy to help,” she smiled. “I must admit I am rather curious about the path your life takes. Legend says outworlders signify an oncoming change. And… I may have used a little divination magic–”
“Don’t tell me,” I panicked slightly. “I feel like my future isn’t something I should know going into it.”
Frida laughed. “That’s not quite how it works, nor what I was going to say. You’re in a state of fluctuation, too all over the place for me to divine anything clear.”
“Is that… good?” I asked nervously.
“It’s not anything, it just means you’re fluid,” she considered, waving her spoon again. “You don’t know where you’re going, let alone how you’re going to get there. To be frank, it’s better than the alternative. The more narrow your paths become, the… worse things are.”
“Oh,” I sighed with relief. “Well, that’s… okay.”
She smiled. “I’m sorry, I suppose this is all a lot of breakfast.”
“Don’t be,” I assured. “I feel like I’m finally starting to figure things out. Maybe.”
“Good morning,” Martrix chirped, dropping onto the bench beside Frida.
“Morning,” I smiled.
“Hi,” Frida nodded. “I was just giving Pamela a rundown on the System.”
“Oh gods, already?” Martrix snorted. “You’re a cruel woman.”
Frida shook her head with mild exasperation. “The boys still sleeping?”
“Yeah, Petven’s a lightweight and Kimrel simply adores sleeping,” she explained for my benefit. “And before you ask, it’s not a dragonborn thing. He’s just perpetually either high energy and utterly exhausted.”
“Noted,” I nodded, feeling a tad bad, but it was also practical knowledge I needed. “I do have one question…” I grimaced.
“Oh?” Martrix replied skeptically.
“Well… are all the uh… races like… are they races or species? Like can they…” I trailed off.
“Fuck?” She grinned.
I choked on my tisane. “Um, can they have children?” I clarified, clearing my throat.
She grinned at me. “Yeah, we’re all humanoids. Humans are just the oldest and thus took all the credit,” she explained, glaring at Frida, who ignored her.
“Ah,” I nodded. “So… why are you different? On Earth, there were races, but they were entirely socially constructed. There were differences in mostly skin tone, which were usually used to draw lines, but… it was ultimately arbitrary and had no genetic basis. But here… how can a dragonborn and an elf be the same species?”
Martrix blinked at me. “Magic, Pamela. It’s magic.”
“Right, of course, I’m sorry,” I laughed, mostly embarrassed as I shook my head.
“It’s alright,” Martrix chuckled. “I know a few creation stories best told through song. I’ll make sure to enlighten you on the walk to Agocester.”
“Oh gods, please don’t,” Frida groaned.
“I didn’t even say I was going,” I protested.
Martrix raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, alright fine, I’m coming,” I smiled. It felt good to belong, even a little.