Thinking back on Ranger, the dream shifted again. I imagined him traveling from town to town now sporting a little stubble. When out on the road he would hide his tail in his pants and his horns and ears under a straw hat. He stayed in barns making copper by working the fields. His goal was to save up for the boarder fees to get out of there. Once free, he could go to a place who welcomed beastfolk and begin his plan the improve this world's standards of living. How he missed hot running water and internet.
"Hey, boy!" The farmer called out.
Ranger looked around before remembering that he was a 'boy' again. "Yes, sir?"
"What you still doin' 'ere?" He dusted off his hands not looking angry, but with an expression that was hard to read. "Why you not at the square with the other boys?"
"I have work, sir." Ranger replied lifting up a bucket of feed for the pigs. Though, while they were called pigs and seemed closely related to pigs, the creatures here were always slightly different from the ones back in his world. These pigs didn't have hides thick with long hair, but still had the curling tusks.
"What kind of daft gibberish is that? You of age right? You have a class you've be hiding from us like a slith in the night?" The farmer paid beastmen well, but had a rough accent and odd dialect. Ranger was still working out the language, so it took him a bit to reply.
"I no hide anything, sir. Just no interest. Still have work." Ranger certainly would have had less to do if the others hadn't left him behind to go to the spring festival. But he would rather have the money than play games and hit on girls.
"Fuddledry, you look of age, so get goin' before the Appraiser leaves." The farmer laughed, taking the bucket away and slapping Ranger on the back. "He can tell you your class and allocate any undedicated points to boot. Free only the first time. Wait too long, then you'll have ta pay."
Was that what the festival was all about? Class? Ranger had heard it was to celebrate that year's youth coming of age and that it was the one time of the year the village was visited by an official appraiser from the kingdom. "You pay more if I good class?"
"Hells, I'll adopt you myself if you have a great one." The farmer yelled over his shoulder. "Now get going."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He could have always gone to the festival in another town, but he always found it hard to work when he felt eyes watching him anyways. Ready for a break, Ranger let the farmer take over his work and followed the order at a jog. Classes and points, what kind of video game was this?
By the time Ranger got to the square, the line was long, but far more youths were celebrating with friends and family than there were standing. The line of excited youth was like a long forgotten highschool graduation sans the blue gowns. They each took their turn stepping up onto a wooden podium where a fat, well dressed woman stood. A younger adult hooded in a gray robe would help them up and guide them before a black stone that's surface was so smooth it seemed to ripple (A stone that looked very similar to the one Aunty Spider used when she first found out her stats). Then the woman would mutter some words and a light show would spread over the youth standing before the stone. Once it was over, a robed assistant on the other side cast a spell on a square of leather, handed it to the youth, and then guided them down the other side.
A slight girl stepped up, hesitantly putting her hands on the stone, and a pink and yellow light enveloped her. The Appraiser yells out: "Seamstress!" Then the girl steped down happily to her family below.
Another girl stepped up, a blue and silver light envelopes her, but now I see why the assistants wear such large robes. Hands hidden in their loose fit sleeves, the first assistant weaves the mana into a light spell while everyone is focused on the girl. Makes things more dramatic I guess, though Myre's ceremony would win that contest. Then the Appraiser yelled out: "Ox Herder!"
The girl flexed her muscles at the crowed before stepping down from the cheers.
As a boy steps up, I wonder if there can be any bad classes when the classes are based off of what a person was good at? Maybe people don't always become best at what they are most interested in, but they certainly wouldn't become best in something they hated doing. The crowed let out a huge cheer as the Appraiser yelled out: "Knight!"
I guess there were certainly classes better than others. The boy in question was beeming with his hands in the air like he just won the game. The second assistant hands him the piece of leather, but doesn't lead him down. Instead a man sporting a uniform, decorated with several bobbles fastened to a sash over his chest, stepped up and shook the boy's hand. He guided the boy a little ways away to a sturdy tent the flew some sort of flags. Two guards stood at the entrance looking more bored than professional.
I thought of listening in, but Ranger was coming up soon and that was the 'blessing' I really wanted to see. I watched from behind the Appraiser as Ranger strode up. He flashed both of us a charming smile as if he knew he couldn't have anything bad being a transmigrator. Then he put his hands on the stone and the assistant cast the light show.
A frog barked out of the Appraiser's throat and it wasn't me. The crowd went silent. Only the people on the dias could see what the stone read:
Name: Red
Coyote Level: 100
Magic Knight Level: 3
It didn't say as much as what the other stone I had seen said, but if a knight was something to cheer about, than a magic knight must be even better. Right?
"Sergeant!" The Appraiser cried out in a high, broken pitch. Everyone looked around confused. I guess that sergeant was not an available class. "Sergeant!"
The fancy official threw the curtain of the tent open, glaring at the Appraiser. Seeing the look on her face, the anger disappeared under a stern mask and he motioned for one of the gaurds to follow him. Everyone had stepped away from Red, who was still standing by the stone.
The Sergeant stepped up one side while the gaurd went up the other. "What seems to be the problem here?"
Ranger (Red? Nope, just didn't sound right.) tilted his head trying to read the situation and find the right words. "Sir, I no read. What my class?"
One look at the stone and a strained smile slipped over the Sergeant's face. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but he practically hugged Ranger and held up his hands for him. "Here, in your town, a natural treasure is born. The King will be sure to reward you handsomely for his service. Come, come, boy. Let us talk about the many great things we can do for each other."
The crowed cheered as the Sergeant lead Ranger into the tent with the gaurd following close behind. He shoved a scroll tied with a blue velvet ribbon into the hands of the previous boy and pushed him out. "Take this, follow the instructions, and don't be late. We will pick up our conversation in the morning... Please, sit here Red. Let us talk about how we can help each other. How we can help you reach your full potential."
Ranger sat in the offered chair. He was uncomfortable with the gaurd looming at his back, but a hint of greed gleamed in his eyes. If he got the attention of someone with power in this nation then maybe, just maybe, he could get his plans moving sooner than he thought.
The Sergeant turned on a lamp that radiated darkness and the dream faded away. My thoughts, however, were still on how and when classes get 'blessed.' Myre's was a classic coming-of-age reveal but left more questions than answers. Ranger's was mostly a stage show with a recruient side gig, but he already seemed to have levels. Was it a difference in culture? How did the princess get her blessing?