Verena woke to the sound of knocking on her door. She knew exactly who was on the other side, and she cursed her father for how well he knew her. She began to get out of bed as the door opened to reveal the only person who could get away with waking her up early.
"My lady, your father sent me to make sure you're ready in time for the meeting today." The woman in the doorway was her personal lady-in-waiting, Marianne, and she was the only person who was, seemingly, immune to Verena's temper.
Verena groaned as she got to her feet, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I'm not going. I told father almost a week ago." Contrary to her words, Verena made her way to her closet, Marianne following close behind.
Marianne gave her a withering look. "Permission to speak freely, my lady?"
After an exaggerated eye-roll, Verena responded to the question, "Marianne, how many times have I told you to stop being so formal with me?"
"At least a hundred, my lady." The young woman smiled calmly, her expression perfectly placid as she tormented her mistress in a way that no other could get away with.
After a moment of hesitation as she fought down the urge to retort, which would only embolden the incorrigible maid, Verena turned back to selecting a dress. "Yes, you may speak freely."
Marianne simply nodded, acting as if she was oblivious to the frustration she caused the woman she served. As she helped Verena put on the dress she had selected, she spoke, "My lady, I fail to see any justifiable reason not to attend today's meeting. You are in perfect health, as always, you have no other plans for the day, and you have no training to attend, as you have yet to unlock your class. A situation, I might add, which is the subject of the meeting you wish to avoid. The only reason I can think of for your hesitance is that you're afraid."
"Afraid? Why would I be afraid? It's just a glorified tea party!" Verena denied the accusation, but the defensiveness in her voice betrayed her. The moment her dress was on, she spun on Marianne, her fangs bared as she glowered at the woman. "I'm a vampire of the noble Tavanor line! I'm not afraid of meeting with some blowhard aristocrat who can barely fit into his suit!"
Marianne reached up and began brushing Verena's hair, unfazed by the furious expression on the vampire's face. "I never believed for a moment that you fear Lord Morel. It's what he's coming here for that scares you."
"I- You- What!?" Verena was, as usual, at a total loss for what to do when Marianne completely ignored her every outburst and denial. Nobody else, save her father, was so casual with her. However, unlike her father, Marianne managed to maintain an air of perfect professionalism, at the same time. "What are you going on about? There's nothing that old fart can do that would scare me."
"My lady, be honest with me," Suddenly, Marianne's voice softened, and she looked into Verena's eyes with deep concern. "Why are you so afraid of the tests?"
Verena froze. This was, in her opinion, the worst part about dealing with Marianne. Her lady-in-waiting knew exactly when a single moment of sincerity would have the biggest impact. Verena turned away, looking at herself in the mirror to avoid the question. She was beautiful. That was undeniable. It was a given, for members of her race. Verena was tall, even for a vampire. Her ghostly-pale skin was perfectly contrasted by her raven-black hair. Her figure was in that perfect space between being too skinny to be desirable, and too full to be practical. Her firm breasts were perfectly sized, big enough to fill a person's hand, but small enough to avoid constantly being in the way. Her wide hips and thick thighs were, arguably, her most prominent feature, but they were still extremely fit and toned.
Overall, her body resembled that of a supermodel, but despite it all, the most striking thing about her was her eyes. Almost all vampires had blood-red eyes, but Verena was an extremely rare case. Despite both of her parents being full-blooded vampires, Verena's eyes were deep purple, something that was practically impossible for her race, and completely unheard of in her family. Several members of her extended family were convinced that her mother had been unfaithful, and she was an illegitimate child of an illicit affair. However, her mother had always assured her that that wasn't true, and she had grown to be proud of her eye color, something she opted to think about for a while as she tried to ignore Marianne's gaze on her.
After a period of silence, Verena slumped, sighing as she gave up with pretending. "I'm afraid of disappointing father. You don't understand what it's like, Marianne. That face he makes, every time a new test fails, it's unbearable." She shuddered as tears began to fall. "I'm nothing but a failure to him. I'm seventy years old, Marianne, and I still haven't unlocked my class!"
In the world of Orellia, every person was given a status sheet by the world's system when they became an adult. However, the person's class was hidden from them until they fulfilled certain criteria, which were dictated by the nature of the class, itself. For many, unlocking their class was rather simple. A warrior-type class might unlock by training with a weapon, or winning a fight. A rogue-type class might require the person to convince someone else of a lie, commit a certain crime, or avoid detection by someone who's looking for them.
However, the more esoteric or specific a class was, the more unique the conditions to unlock it were. One might need to train with a specific weapon or instrument, spend an extended period of time in a specific environment, or even gain a certain level of notoriety. Without unlocking their class, a person could not level up. That meant they couldn't grow stronger. At least, not at any meaningful pace, when compared with those who have their classes. This left classless individuals at a serious disadvantage in almost all aspects of life. People often seemed to naturally gravitate towards situations that would unlock their class, but even then, a significant portion of the population, especially among the commoners, died without ever knowing what their class was.
The aristocracy, however, prided themselves in their extensive system of tests, designed to discover the class of any noble scion who went through them. This is why it was so concerning when, upon reaching adulthood, Verena Tavanor went through the tests the nobility had devised, and not a single one worked. None of the standard tests, none of the advanced tests, not even the immense list of incredibly esoteric tests that covered over ninety percent of all known unlock conditions in the entire world had succeeded in revealing hers. After more than fifty years of trying every option they could think of, Verena was beginning to believe she simply didn't have a class, at all. This is the situation that lead to the breakdown that was currently in-progress in the young vampire's closet.
"Before me, the oldest any member of the Tavanor line was, before finding their class, was thirty-two. I'm the biggest let-down in the history of my entire family. I'm surprised he hasn't disowned me, yet." She buried her face in her hands as she began to sob. "I can't find my class. Almost all of my base stats are abysmal, even for a human. He can't even marry me off for political gain, because I'm a freak that no man would ever accept. I'm worthless. He probably wishes he'd never had me at-"
SMACK!
Suddenly, Marianne slapped Verena across the face. Looking up in shock, Verena was met with the most furious expression she had ever seen on the maid's face. "Don't you dare say that! You are not a failure, Verena!" The young vampire was even more shocked. Never once had her lady-in-waiting called her by her first name. "You are exceptional! I've heard your father say it time and time again. He hadn't accomplished half as much as you have when he was twice your age. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, you took your life into your own two hands, and made something great out of yourself, class or no class.
"That face he makes when the tests fail, it's not disappointment. It's concern. He's constantly afraid that you'll never accept yourself, just because of this stupid class bullshit. You're so focused on the one thing you've ever failed at that you can't understand that it's the only thing you've ever failed at. This nonsense about being worthless, that's not the Verena I know. The Verena I know looks life in the eyes and tells it to get in the fucking line! If you're so worried about not having your class, then stop avoiding your father's efforts to help you find it. Get off your ass and be the woman I know you are! When there's a problem, you figure it out, so figure it the fuck out!"
By now, Marianne was practically fuming. Red lines had begun to creep into the edges of her bright blue eyes, and there were lines of black and purple crawling up her neck, from beneath her uniform. Verena was standing, mouth agape, as she watched the tirade. Never once had her maid lost her composure. Even in her rare moments of sincerity, she always maintained a sense of decorum that would make Verena question which of them was really the noblewoman. Yet here she was, displaying a wrath that put even Verena's temper to shame. It was quite shocking when Verena realized that she actually felt a tinge of fear at the sudden intensity of her servant.
After a few moments, Marianne's eyes widened. She looked down at her hand, an expression of pure horror on her face. It didn't take much thought for Verena to understand what was going through the woman's mind. She was clearly panicking. She had just struck her mistress. Verena wasn't angry with her. It may not have been the best solution, but it worked to stop her from spiraling. She had no intention of punishing her lady-in-waiting, but Marianne didn't know that.
Verena raised a hand to reassure her maid, but before she could get a single word out, a cloud of shadows, pulsing with purple energy, wrapped around Marianne, and she vanished. The last thing Verena saw of her was an expression full of fear and remorse. Then, she was gone, and Verena was left standing alone in her closet. "What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?" Verena sighed before, reluctantly, determining that, whatever she did about this situation, it would have to wait. After all, she had a meeting to attend.
*****
Thirty minutes later, Verena walked into the sitting room of Tavanor manor. She was just in time, too. As, barely seconds after she had sat down, another door opened, and her father, along with a man Verena had long since become tired of seeing, walked into the room. Her father was as imposing as always, a spitting image of the artistic depictions of the progenitor vampires, particularly the progenitor of their own line. The Tavanor family was, a long time ago, an offshoot of the Tepes bloodline, making them direct descendants of the first, and greatest, vampire in recorded history, Count Dracula von Tepes. And Count Dominik Tavanor was practically identical to his legendary ancestor. This made the appearance of the second man all the more underwhelming.
Baron Elias Morel was the living embodiment of meaningless, tedious bureaucracy. He was short, balding, and overweight to the point that he barely fit into his suit. His nasally voice made Verena's sensitive ears cry out in protest, and the way he walked could only be described as waddling. Verena dreaded every meeting with this man. No matter how cordial he was, she always got a condescending impression from the man. More than once, she had only managed to make it through a meeting with him thanks to the timely, and tactfully subtle, intervention of Marianne to soothe her temper.
She was not looking forward to this meeting. Between her already sour mood, and the poignant absence of her reliable lady-in-waiting, she was dreading the next couple of hours. However, she was determined to push through, regardless, because she knew that Marianne was right. It wasn't in her nature to give up, and she refused to let her class be the thing to break her. She had come this far without it. Even if she never discovered it, she would just keep doing what she had always done: Work twice as hard, for half the progress of her peers, and still come out on top.
"Verena," her father's voice had a tinge of concern as he looked around the room. "Where did Marianne run off to? She was supposed to be attending to you."
Verena winced, internally, but she maintained her composure, giving the excuse she had already devised. "She had a sudden emergency come up. I told her to take whatever leave she needed to take care of it. It's the least I can do, after all her dedication." She obviously wasn't going to tell her father the truth. If she told him that her lady-in-waiting had vanished into thin air after striking Verena across the face, she'd never see Marianne again, at least, not alive.
Dominik grimaced, well aware of his daughter's temper, and of how adept the young maid was at soothing it. It was, as he had openly admitted to both her and Verena, the primary reason he appointed Marianne as her lady-in-waiting. "That's unfortunate. Hopefully, she isn't gone for too long."
Verena shrugged, noncommittally. "She was unsure how long it would take, but she said it may take some days to resolve."
Dominik sighed, shaking his head. "Very well, no use dwelling on it, then." He turned to the portly man next to him. "Lord Morel, you said you have a new round of tests to perform, yes?"
The Baron nodded vigorously, placing a briefcase on the table. "Yes. Yes. We recently got a new report of an unusual class that appeared, down in the Southern Province. The young man in question apparently unlocked his class by eating a specific type of food."
Verena shook her head as Dominik sighed. "Baron, surely you don't intend to waste our time with this nonsense. You know, full well, that we cannot eat mundane food, and it's been proven, several times, that the system never gives someone a class condition they're incapable of performing."
Baron Morel simply kept nodding. "Of course. Of course. However, the system does not disqualify one from a class because they cannot accomplish the usual condition. Rather, it adjusts the condition to the individual. As such," He opened the case on the table to reveal it to be full of small vials, each containing a small amount of red liquid that was simple enough to identify, given the conversation at hand. "I have gathered these. You'll find each vial is labeled with the race, gender, and virginal status of the subject it was collected from. Additionally, the case is inscribed with high-quality preservation runes, to keep the blood fresh."
Verena was genuinely impressed. As much as she despised the Baron, she could not deny that he took his position, as the lord in charge of class testing in the Eastern Province, very seriously. It was the only reason she tolerated him. "Alright, consider me intrigued. It seems worth a try, and it's one of the more pleasant tests you've brought me, these past few years." Verena reached out, taking the first vial from the case. However, in the back of her mind, she was bracing herself. This is too much! As she drank the first vial of blood, from a human man, she did a cursory estimate of the number of vials, and she was completely sure that there were well over a hundred individual vials in the case. How many races did he collect!?
*****
After nearly two hours, and over 120 blood samples, it was over. Verena was groaning softly, feeling like she wouldn't need to feed for at least a month, but as usual, there was nothing. As she finished the last vial and verified that nothing had occurred, she saw those same expressions they always had. Baron Morel had that look of frustration that always gave her the urge to rake her claws across his face, like she was some kind of puzzle he couldn't solve, instead of a person he'd failed to help.
When she looked at her father, however, it was different. Despite him having the exact same look he always did after one of these tests, what she saw was completely different. Marianne was right. There was no disappointment in his eyes. He was worried, but it wasn't about the family, or his legacy, or his image. He was worried about her.
The moment she realized this, she turned to the Baron. "Lord Morel, unless there's anything else, I wish to speak with my father, alone."
The squat man hesitated, but eventually he nodded. "Of course. I'll see you next time, Lady Verena."
Dominik glanced at his daughter with trepidation, but he wasn't going to say no when she had initiated the conversation, something she almost never did, anymore. "Very well. Thank you, Baron. My steward will see you out."
As soon as the man had left the room, Verena stood and walked over to her father. Without a word, she pulled him into a hug. Dominik was at a loss. He couldn't even begin to comprehend what had brought about this change in attitude, but he just wrapped his arms around his daughter, returning her hug.
After a few minutes of silent affection, Verena finally spoke. "Thank you, father. Thank you for not giving up on me."
Dominik was taken aback. "Verena, why would I ever give up on you? You're my daughter. My pride and joy. My little amethyst. Bringing you into this world is the greatest thing I've done in my entire life."
Verena looked up at her father, tears falling as she smiled at his old nickname for her. "I almost did. I almost let my lack of a class overshadow everything else. I almost forgot who I am."
Her father smiled in excitement as he saw that the fire in her eyes had returned. "And who are you?"
Her smile widened to match her father's as she let go of him, slowly standing up. "I'm Verena motherfucking Tavanor. And if life wants to take a shot at me, it'd better be ready for a fight."
Nobody would realize until a ways into the future, but it was at that moment that the course of history for Orellia was changed. Life would, indeed, take more than a few shots at Verena Tavanor, and it would be in for one hell of a fight.