King Gerald of the Novaran Kingdom gazed down from his throne, his imperious gaze resting on the duke bowing before him. Or rather, the top of the man's head. From his vantage point, the king was granted a full and uninterrupted view of the duke's rather unflattering bald spot. Light from the enchanted chandelier above reflected off of the shiny patch of skin as though to spotlight it.
"My King, it is an honor to be in your presence this day. I am ever so grateful that you have allowed me a moment of your time…"
Gerald's fingers tapped idly on the armrest as the man continued in flowery pleasantries, bejeweled rings gleaming where they adorned each digit. Today he was holding court. It was his least favorite day of the month—the day when people could bring him their petty problems and do their best to distract him from his far more important work. It was always a complete waste of time. A necessary one, as his advisors never failed to remind him, but a waste nonetheless.
As the duke finally began launching into the meat of his request, the king couldn't help but sneer. He kept it to himself as best he could, as his position required. But really? This old idiot was asking for more troops to guard his borders, as though that was something he couldn't handle himself. After all, he had a whole dukedom at his fingertips to draw soldiers and coin from. If the man couldn't handle something as small as that, then why was he even in charge to begin with?
King Gerald tuned out the man, dismissing his incompetence as he planned what to do for the rest of the week. It was clearly more important than whatever this fool was asking for. If the duke's request had really been important, one of his advisors would have already agreed and taken care of the matter before it reached this point. The fact that he'd been forced to come beg for help during a court session… Clearly, this was a last-ditch effort from the duke to shunt his problems onto someone else.
The king had lost himself in daydreams about wine and cheese pairings when a notification appeared in front of him. He skimmed over it with disinterest. As a ruler, receiving System notifications wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Most of them were minor updates or news related to kingdom management that could be waved away or simply addressed next time he visited his class stone. Every once in a while, there might even be something important enough to have an advisor deal with.
He raised a hand to wave the golden text away, then stopped mid-gesture. The first few words brought a frown to his face.
[The Roman Emperor, Tiberius Rufius Maro, has successfully declared war on the Novara Kingdom!]
Gerald blinked, staring at the text. He read it over again, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He was used to notifications signaling rebellion in some random border village or town he didn't give two shits about. Rebellions were normally handled at the barony, county, or duchy level long before they ever reached him. Sometimes, disputes over land ownership or jurisdiction would also require his attention. But war? That was an entirely different matter.
It had been a while since another nation had declared war on Novara. That wasn't to say they were at peace—it was more that the wars they were engaged in had been running for a long time. But what in the world was a Roman Emperor? Whatever nation they ruled over, he'd certainly never heard of it.
His frown deepened. Finally waving the notification away, Gerald looked down to the duke to dismiss him. The balding man had also fallen silent, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the air before him.
"Something the matter, duke?" King Gerald asked.
The man shook himself and swallowed. "Er, my apologies, your majesty. I simply received a notification. It appears that… someone has seized the town of Habersville."
"Habersville…" The king searched his memories, but came up short. The place must not have been very important.
"Indeed. If I remember correctly it's located…" The duke snapped his fingers a couple of times as if trying to recall a name. "In the far east of the kingdom. It's a small logging village in the County of Brit. I believe it's inside of Baron von Latimore's territory."
"Hmm." The duke's assessment of the village confirmed his own suspicions—it truly wasn't an important place. It also suggested that this "war" business might be a case of some upstart beating on his chest rather than an actual threat. Either way, it was in the duke's territory, so it was his responsibility.
The king's frown deepened, then he waved a hand dismissively. "Investigate. Deal with it. And once that's taken care of, you can have..." He paused, trying to recall what the duke had wanted from this audience. When the memory didn't come to him, King Gerald just waved again. "Whatever it is you wanted from this."
Gerald looked over at his chamberlain, who nodded to indicate that the request had been recorded. The duke's jaw clenched. "But, your majesty, as I mentioned—"
The king's eyes narrowed, stopping the duke's words in their tracks. The balding man's jaw clicked shut as he blinked, bowed, and left immediately, as if fearing the king might change his mind.
The encounter was soon forgotten as Gerald called the court session to end early. The chamberlain wasn't happy about the decision, as there were still apparently plenty of people who wanted to see him. But then again, there always were. And besides, telling his advisers about this notification was very important. Surely no one could fault him for postponing this tiresome duty until next month.
***
When Marcus had said class activations were a little brighter, he'd meant just that. A little brighter. Like the glow of a campfire or those sparkling sky displays that cities sometimes put on during festivals.
Instead, they got a miniature sun.
The class stone exploded in a blinding blaze of white light. Marcus cried out in pain, staggering backwards as it stabbed into his eyes. He threw up his arms in an attempt to block it out. But even as he snapped his eyes shut, the afterimage of Tiberius silhouetted against the stone stood stark in his vision, refusing to be banished. Judging by the similar shouts rising up from all around him, the other onlookers were experiencing much the same thing.
The moment seemed to last a lifetime. Eventually, the painful light slowly faded before disappearing altogether. When Marcus could finally see again, Tiberius was still standing there. His hand was no longer on the stone, and his weapon was drawn. He'd stepped back and positioned himself in a combat stance as if the stone were about to attack him.
Marcus looked around and realized that he wasn't the only one. All of the soldiers were armed and ready for some sort of mischief, blinking rapidly as they scanned the surroundings. Many of them were even pointing their weapons at him.
Deciding that he'd rather not get stabbed, Marcus raised both hands in a gesture of conciliation and remained still. Despite the precarious situation, he couldn't help but quickly use [Appraisal] on Tiberius.
[Legionnaire – Legatus] (Lvl 1)
Despite the light show, the class activation had indeed worked. That much was certain. Still, the man's level gave him pause. Level one? That was it? Even if they hadn't activated their classes before, they had to have accrued some amount of experience. They were trained fighters, after all. And considering their strength, he'd expected them to be level five at the absolute minimum. More like ten or fifteen.
The even stranger part was, Tiberius wasn't the only one with a class now.
[Legionnaire – Centurion] (Lvl 1)
[Legionnaire – Centurion] (Lvl 1)
[Legionnaire – Centurion] (Lvl 1)
Marcus blinked in surprise. He continued scanning all of the soldiers in the area in disbelief. They were level one, too. They were all level one.
Tiberius was the only one who had touched the stone. Why in the world would it activate classes for everyone?
Marcus's head spun as he tried to wrap his mind around the revelation. Clearly, something wasn't normal about these people. Many somethings. Between the first man managing to kill shadow panthers unaided and the ease with which they'd conquered Habersville, they were obviously a force to be reckoned with. Yet if they managed all this while only level one… what kind of world had they been summoned from?
A shiver ran down his spine—not simply from fear, but excitement. This situation was simply becoming more and more interesting. Interesting enough to possibly warrant a song…
But before that, he had to deal with the dozen or so soldiers pointing swords and spears at him.
"What was that?"
Tiberius's words rumbled through the town square like a predator's growl. The man fixed an intense glare on Marcus, his expression demanding immediate answers. The bard slowly shrugged his shoulders in as submissive a manner as he could manage.
"Well, it certainly seems as though you've successfully assigned your class. Though that was admittedly a much… brighter display than any I've ever seen or heard of." He forced himself to smile and affect a jovial tone. "Isn't that right, mayor?"
The mayor, who had fallen to the ground at some point, jerked his head up and nodded vigorously. The Legatus ignored him.
"How are you certain?"
"I…" Marcus hesitated for a moment. "I have a skill that allows me to see such things. If you're willing to touch the stone again, then you will be able to check your level and assign skills, as I explained earlier."
Tiberius frowned, looking down at his hand as though to inspect it for injuries. To Marcus's surprise, he did actually move toward the stone—much more cautiously this time—and turned his head to the side as his hand made contact. A far softer light rose from its base, mirroring the light show that Marcus had received.
Marcus couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. He felt some tension leave his shoulders as Tiberius remained still, his eyes scanning back and forth across invisible text. All around them, the Legion soldiers slowly sheathed their weapons, though many still cast distrustful or outright disdainful looks in his direction. But that was fine. At least something had finally gone as expected.
***
Touching the stone had been a gamble, in Tiberius's opinion. But it was one that needed to be taken. The world they found themselves in was a strange and foreign one, and the quickest way they could gain more information was to interact with it. Even if doing so meant an uncomfortable encounter with unfamiliar magics.
However, that didn't mean that he would trust the shady bard at his word. The man was a performer, and despite the impressive display, touching the stone himself wasn't enough to prove anything. And so, Tiberius sent out men to question the townsfolk and corroborate the stories and information he'd been told. It took precious time, but ultimately suggested that they had not been deceived. The fop's words did indeed seem to hold water.
Even once the decision had been made, several of his aides had tried to convince him to allow one of the other men to take the risk. It was what many of his fellow senators or legion commanders would have done—set some poor conscript to the task rather than put the leader at risk. But that was not how Tiberius preferred to operate.
Everyone here—everyone he could trust, at least—was a full member of the Legion. All their auxiliaries and conscripts had been left behind along with their horses. And he would never ask one of his men to take on a burden that he was unwilling to bear himself.
And so, Tiberius touched the stone himself. They were in foreign territory, and they needed to understand their enemy. That was something drilled into him from the very beginning of his military career. Knowing one's enemy—their capabilities, positions, and weaknesses— was just as important as knowing one's own troops. With enough information about both sides, then battle itself almost became a formality. It was a lofty ideal, but one he'd seen hold true in practice more times than he could count.
Of course, the blinding effect of the stone had not exactly done much to convince him this wasn't a trap. But considering the genuine shock on every one of the locals' faces, he soon deemed it safe enough to try touching the thing again. This time, the glow was far less intense. More floating letters appeared in front of his eyes, glowing gold where they hovered in the air.
Information:
Name: Tiberius Rufius Maro
Age: 54
Class: Legionnaire – Legatus (Legendary)
Level: 1
Experience: 1,527 / 600,000
Stats:
Strength: 9
Dexterity: 8
Constitution: 10
Charisma: 14
Wisdom: 10
Intelligence: 10
Titles:
Conqueror of Habersville
Roman Emperor
Born to Rule
Born to Conquer
Bonds of Brotherhood
Skills:
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