Reiss walked through the streets of Thorsten the next day with a skip in his step. He heard a street caller exclaiming about a smuggling ring being taken down late last night. It was the talk of the town.
Drugs? In their city? How inscrutable.
Of course, there were a few who had sour looks. They tried thinking of new ways they could get a fix. Any of them who didn't have the proper connections would be quitting cold turkey soon enough, whether they liked it or not. A few of them wouldn't make it, but most would.
This was a win for Reiss. He didn't have the time to do more for them. He helped where he could. Maybe one of the junkies that died would have been the key to winning the wars, but Reiss highly doubted it and didn't have any more resets.
Reiss knew of only a few people he could truly rely on. It just so happened one of them lives in this very city.
Passing by several shops, restaurants, and abodes, Reiss came upon the crafting district. Yerali's shop is actually in this district. It was on the other end in the less noisy section, though. The smiths were given the farthest section of the city due to constant noise complaints.
Thorsten wasn't known for their arms or weaponry. Reiss walked past billowing forges where [Smiths] hammered away, forging crude implements or mediocre weapons. The smiths here were enough to supply the Thorsten with tools and basic gear, but they were no masters or geniuses here.
Except maybe one. By the loosest of definitions.
Reiss came to a tiny smithy tucked into a thirty-degree corner. It smelled oddly of cabbage... and burnt sardines.
There was no banging at the forge. It was off, and no one was present. Reiss checked the side room where the owner usually slept. He moved aside a large bundle of loose hay, which might seem hazardous next to a forge. Fortunately, the smith in question had a Skill that prevented fires where he didn't need them.
In the world of Aurelia, skills, levels, and classes... life was convenient. You gained the classes and skills you wanted most.
For example...
Imagine two [Bakers].
The first is the daughter in a long line of [Bakers]. She loved the way her mother made sweet rolls for her at a young age. Following in her mother's footsteps, she gains the [Baker] class. Her first skill would likely be one all [Bakers] receive, like [Oven Control]. However, when she gains more experience, attempts new things, and subsequently levels up... She will gain another skill which is more likely to be [Sweetened Dough] or [Pocket of Sugar]. The latter of which will magically spawn a minuscule amount of sugar in her pocket once a day.
All this happened because she loved her mother's sweet rolls as a child.
Our second example gains the [Baker] class because they are starving. They are an orphan, left behind in an old abandoned building where the only working appliance is the furnace. This little orphan has to run and steal coals from the next village over to power the thing. He spends hours getting the temperature right. Burning ingredients by the bucketload. Yet, he still eats them because he is starving.
All this causes the little boy to gain the [Baker] class and be overjoyed at gaining the [Oven Control] skill.
One of a few things may happen in contrast to the first example. The boy will level up far more quickly. Why? Because he's learning everything from scratch and didn't have a mentor or mother to watch. He spends dozens of hours trying and retrying methods until he gets it right, demonstrating he is learning.
There is a clear trade-off, however.
This [Baker] will not get powerful skills early on like [Pocket of Sugar]. Instead, he might receive [Burnt Edibles]. Allowing the food he burns to be digestible. No normal [Baker] would want the skill because they would never sell burnt food. Thus they would never gain it. But to the starving child, it is a miracle he always wanted.
This trend continues for both examples. They gain the skills most suitable for them and ones that pertain to their specific experiences or aspirations.
The trained [Baker] from the first example will be more successful and "powerful" at lower levels. Once reaching middling levels, around 30ish, both examples will likely be around equal in their fields, although vastly different.
If both [Bakers] somehow accumulate enough experience to reach level 50. The second example has an increasingly likely chance to pass the first in aptitude.
Stars forbid... if they reach mythical levels like 70 or 80. The second boy would become a mortal [God of Baking]. The woman would be hailed as the [Monarch of Sugar].
Reiss scoffed at the thought.
No one high-leveled ever lives long enough. It was a well-known phenomenon. The higher-level one became, the more trouble they attracted.
Some [Philosphers] argued that individuals must complete more absurd and dangerous requirements to level up at higher levels. Thus "Levelers" actually seek out trouble. Getting into dangerous situations where they are more likely to be injured or killed.
So, in turn, the individuals who make it to high levels are all crazy.
Many of Aurelia's inhabitants don't get to level 30 in their lifetime simply because they don't have the drive or particular need to level. About 50% of everyone who attempts to reach such a level perishes. This isn't a flat rule. How could a [Writer] die by trying to get to level 30? The most likely cause would be overwork or an accidental pen through the eye.
Still, leveling is such an odd system. There is even the case of Multi-classing. Consolidated classes. Synergized classes...
Well, no need to think about it now. Reiss was looking for a friend.
With a huff, he threw down the bundle of hay. This was throwing off what he had planned. Where was the sneaky giant?
Krom was supposed to be working at his forge right now. The two had been best of friends for over 250 iterations. Right from when they first met, Reiss knew he liked Krom. The son of a [Farmer] and a [Rancher], Krom came to Thorsten to do what he always wanted.
Smith.
He wasn't a [Smith], not exactly. When Reiss found him, he had been unknown and forgotten. Krom had faults that made him difficult to work with. However, after sharing a few drinks Reiss and Krom became the best of friends. For the next hundreds of reincarnations, Reiss brought him along on his journeys.
Not being able to find hide or hair of Krom was a problem. Reiss relented that he would have to wait. If Krom didn't show up soon, he'd go out and search.
=
A hulking figure standing six foot eight stalked through the alleyways leading to the forge. His neck barely visible behind massive shoulders and arms thick as thighs. His powerful legs carried his fast stride back towards his reclusive forge.
Krom carried a satchel behind his back as large as an adult man. Many were afraid that was indeed what he carried. Krom was splattered in red and smelled like burnt hair. A few pedestrians hurried away as his footsteps became stomps and his boulder-like fists clenched tighter. They loosened a fraction upon hearing the familiar clang of metal. The sound soothed the giant.
Turning the last corner, he saw the welcome sigh of his forge. All the tension in his shoulders was released, and he stood a few inches taller. Setting down the huge bag of scrap metal, Krom walked into his storage room to find a bucket of water.
"There you are! Where've you been, old friend? This never happened before."
Krom did not jump. His shoulders enveloped his neck again, and his fists clenched.
"Who?"
"Why, it's me, old pal? You've forgotten me again... That's alright, we'll pick up where we left off. But you didn't answer my question. Where were you? Usually, you are in your forge hammering away."
Instead of answering, Krom's teeth ground together as he loomed over the intruder. The man's gesturing was overdone, like a mediocre actor. Krom saw him wink off to the side toward an invisible audience.
"Buddy...Stop acting so tough you big lug you. It's me! Reiss. Your longtime friend and companion. I was inconsolable the last time we parted. You actually look a bit different. Why do you look like you just murdered someone? That's not blood, is it?"
The words came out doubtful, as if Reiss believed it wasn't possible. Krom's brows furrowed as he spoke in his gravelly voice.
"I fell."
The man looked shocked.
"On a person?"
Krom huffed. Shuffling his massive feet.
"On a cake."
There was an uncomfortable silence as Reiss stared at Krom with an uncomprehending expression. Then it smoothly transitioned into recognition and mirth. Then full-blown laughter.
Krom backed up a few massive steps as the Reiss bent over holding onto one knee pointing a finger.
"HAHAHhaha-haaaa. You- *wheeze* you fell on- *wheeze*, cake. And you..."
A pause.
"BAhahaHAhaaaa."
Reiss was wheezing. Choking even.
Krom clenched and unclenched his fists awkwardly as the man continued to laugh. Slowly, Krom looked down at himself, at the dried red frosting that coated his smithing apron. He looked back at the intruder who was collapsed in the hay, clutching at his heart.
Then Krom chuckled. His voice light and free. Which evolved into a full-on belly laugh. The intensity increased as he kept looking between the frosting on his chest and Reiss rolling in the hay. The two of them continued devolving into fits as they watched each other break down.
=
"Yes, yes, no one died. You can go back to your own forge now, Mr. Arthur."
"You're sure? It sounded like someone was being choked... and all the blood."
"I told you. Not blood. Frosting! And we were laughing. But it was kind of you to check."
"The hollering made me chip my blade. If you're done, I'll be going.
Mr. Arthur, a concerned citizen, left their company. Alone, Reiss gave Krom the widest shit-eating grin possible with a thumbs up for emphasis. Krom gave his own toothy smile and slapped his knee. They both sat cross-legged across from each other. Reiss appeared tiny in Krom's shadow.
"Nice hair."
Krom monotoned. Reiss smiled.
"And those are nice, furry caterpillars above your eyes."
Krom frowned, touched his swollen fingers to his eyebrows. Realizing they were the same as always, he reached over and punched Reiss's arm lightly. The impact would have knocked over a lesser man.
"Jerk."
"Giant."
"Man-girl."
"Please... golem impersonator."
"Fairy."
"Smith."
"Flower-picker."
"True enough. That's enough name-calling, or should we get a few more out of the way?"
"Hrm..."
Krom grumbled a bit, folding his massive arms in the world's most spine-chilling pout ever. How could he make a childish gesture so absolutely terrifying? Reiss was used to it.
Krom was the love child between two of the world's burliest individuals who were only outdone in strength and size by living legends, giants, and Krom himself. Unfortunately, his appearance accounted for most of his failed business dealings, clients being too intimidated to work with him. In reality, he was a lovable lug who wasn't so good at social interactions.
Over drinks, Krom had once confessed that he had incredibly low self-esteem because of it all. He traveled down back alleyways to avoid all the stares. Which just made things worse. He took the smallest and farthest smithy from foot traffic possible because he wasn't used to crowds.
Krom grew up on a farm where his only real interactions were with his parents, who didn't speak unless they absolutely needed to. They always demanded respect and raised Krom to be thoughtful about the words he chose to use.
As to Krom's class...
"How is the horseshoe business?"
"Mm. Slow."
"Indeed. I wonder why? I don't know a better [Farrier] than you."
Reiss watched Krom stop himself mid-nod. He was humble that way.
A [Farrier] is one of those classes you never really hear about. The main reason was that everyone wanted to be a [Smith] or [Armorer], or some variation that made weapons.
A [Smith] is a general class that learns everything about smithing, an all-rounder who becomes good at everything later on.
An [Armorer] was someone who wanted to focus mainly on making armor. Metal Breastplates. Pauldrons. Greaves. Vambraces. Cups. All made from metal.
A [Farrier] was, you guessed it, a horseshoe smith.
Krom harbored incredible zeal for the objects. Growing up on his mother's ranch contributed to his passion. It was an unappreciated job where people never gave it a second thought. That is until your mount slowed in an important battle. Or a messenger's mare tripped. Or a lord's favorite mustang lay crumpled over from the pain from an ill-fitted horseshoe or overgrowth.
Krom dedicated his entire craft to making horseshoes so that no horse felt any pain. Making custom ones for each horse. He had a Skill that allowed just that—[Perfect Fit].
Nearly 90% of all horseshoes in the Thorsten came from Krom's tiny forge. Along with 50% of the nearby surroundings. He wasn't famous, as no one except his middle-man knew it was Krom making them all. Since all the apprentice [Smiths] were required to learn how to make them, most people thought that was where they all came from. In reality, they only accounted for the remaining 10%.
An unparalleled genius. At making horseshoes. That was Reiss's long-time friend and companion.
"So. You have your questions. I am sure. Ask away; let's get them out of the way."
"Hair."
Reiss rolled his eyes. His hair wasn't floating behind him anymore. It lay in the hay.
"Magic. A skill, combined with the immortal corpse of a Winter Sprite."
"Why?"
Reiss shrugged.
"Memory. I have trouble remembering everything. This helps."
Krom was silent, which indicated he wanted to ask a rude question or wanted to know more. Reiss likely knew his questions, so he preempted him.
"I am old. My body is only 23. But, I have memories from hundreds of former lives, so I could be considered ancient by human standards. I know a certain dragon that still calls me child."
Krom's mouth opened.
"No. I will not introduce you. He is a jerk."
Krom drooped. Reiss felt a bit bad. Krom actually met that dragon in previous iterations. Reiss remembered Krom being giddy beyond belief. He never heard Krom speak so much in his life.
"Don't worry. You will meet him eventually. I guarantee it."
Krom perked up. His eyes shining.
They sat for a while in comfortable silence. Krom spoke a single word.
"Now?"
He was asking what now.
"Now? I need to start my preparations. I was hoping you would join me again, old friend."
Krom was silent with many questions.
"I have lived many lives. I always knew I could look forward to the next if I died. But now..."
Reiss's voice became less whimsical and more somber.
"I'm suddenly faced with my own mortality again. I... I don't know if I can do this without you."
Somehow... Some way, different voices came from Reiss' throat. They didn't sound different. It was Reiss' voice. But each of them held different emotions. Different memories.
"I haven't always done you right."
"I failed you many times."
"We've fought."
"I couldn't save your family."
"Lizzy and Nell cried."
"You're my closest friend."
"I've watched you die more times than I want to count."
Reiss's eyebrows turned up in an almost pleading expression.
"Will you join me again? One final time. For better or worse?"
Could Reiss still hold hope? Could he go it alone? What was he without Krom? The others? It would be such an empty victory. Or his saddest death.
Krom stared at Reiss for a long time as they sat across from each other.
Worlds apart.
Still connected by memory.
And its absence.
With a brutal finality, Krom put his hands on his knees, standing to his full height. He looked down his busted nose at Reiss. A cold shadow overlapped Reiss. But to him, it couldn't be warmer.
Reiss stared up at Krom and his massive outstretched hand. Reiss let a bitter-sweet laugh escape, grabbing Krom's hand and standing up himself. A single tear threatened Reiss before he sucked it back in like a champ.
Staring at each other now. Reiss punched Krom in the stomach.
"Bully."
"Old man."
"Ouch, that hurts. That one better not stick."
"Hmph."
Krom folded his arms again, a default gesture.
"Now?"
Reiss grinned.
"Now? We pay a visit to the Emperor."