Orrick, the bald, known more for his ragged and scarred face, trembled with fear that he hadn't felt since he was ten, long before he was thrust into the society of [wizards]. Well, Orrick wasn't a [wizard] anymore; he hadn't been a [wizard] for ten minutes, maybe eleven. Orrick composed himself the best he could, given what newly appointed Archmagus Fiori would do to him. There was no weaseling, no conniving, no running from having his mortal coil torn from his body and fed to Ulgathar the Devourer. Only eternal suffering awaited Orrick. Even in death, his soul would be plucked from the river of souls.

Orrick thought of himself as a coward. He worried and fretted more often than he'd like to admit, certainly more often than any of his brethren. They'd always stood proud and tall and knew the right path until their path turned out not to be the right path, and they found themselves dead and devoured. Cowardness had served Orrick well. He'd lasted longer than any of his fellow mages, albeit some would argue that death would've been preferable to the life of Orrick. Not Orrick, though; he abhorred death more than his miserable existence. And now he was facing far worse.

"It's, it's done. I hid the grimoire among the other decrepit books. I made sure to smear enough dirt on the damn thing that it'll blend in splendidly. Archmagus Fiori and his barbaric cultists won't find it."

"Excellent. And the vow of unknowing, have you taken the Oath?"

"No, I hesitate. Fear lingers in the back of my mind. Once I take the vow, it can't be undone. I've heard what happens to those who take up the vow." Orrick meekly protested, still shivering.

"But you know what is at stake, Orrick. You must take the vow for the realm: for every peasant and farmworker, stonemason and slave. Our only hope lies within that grimoire. Without its knowledge, our kind is no more. Purge your mind, Orrick."

"That is true. But even now, I'm reluctant, Grand Magus Carn. I have a few memories I wished to keep, to treasure in the afterlife. I was foolish to think any other outcome would occur, although I regret nothing. I wouldn't walk another life even if the roads were plated gold, and the angels cared for my every whim."

Two words came to the forefront of most peoples' minds when they eyed Grand Magus Carn, old and shriveled. Grand Magus Carn may have looked like a raisin with a few wispy grey hairs, but his mind was cultivated from years of study and experience. He itched at the coarse tunic he used to blend in with the common folk who were the kingdom's lifeblood. For the life of him, Carn didn't know how people wore these damn things, but he would endure far worse discomfort if it meant stopping Archmagus Fiori.

"Orrick, you're not a fool for having hope. It's those who've forgotten the old ways and have given in to Archmagus' Fiori's rhetoric that are the fools. You're braver than most, possibly even the most courageous among your brethren."

"You're too kind, sir. My brethren were far braver than I ever was. I'm constantly frightened."

"You indeed fear more than most people, but that doesn't make you a coward. You've overcome your mind telling, no screaming at you to flee, yet you've remained just as steadfast in our cause. A lesser man and a fair few of your brethren would've succumbed under the weight of the pressure you've felt. Yet here you stand, having faced true evil, understanding how awful that evil truly is, and you've continued to be selfless. I need you, Orrick, to strengthen your resolve one last time to take the Oath."

Orrick wiped away the tears forming around his eyes. He still shivered. His fearful expression was still there. He straightened his back, but years of hunching over old texts made sure he couldn't fully stand up straight anymore. He did the best he could.

"I'm ready to take the Oath. May you live to serve and guide the realm, Grandmagus Carn. To the next generation of true [wizards]."

A small, steady stream of tears flowed down Grandmagus Carn's cheek.

“Call me Gunthar, Orrick. You've been more than a mere colleague; you've been a good friend. For the good of the realm."

"For the good of the realm." croaked Orrick. A lonely tear dripped down his cheek. Orrick took one last glance at the world before he slumped like a sack of potatoes onto the cold stone cellar floor.

Carn was familiar with pain and loss, but Orrick's death was different. Orrick wasn't the first to fall, but he was the last. Maybe Carn wept for the first time because Orrick reminded Carn of himself; certainly, Orric shared the same sense of duty, or maybe it was because Carn raised Orrick, or maybe because Carn felt truly powerless for the first time.

Carn would wait. If it took centuries, he'd still wait. Like Orrick, Carn was a fool who hoped that a savior would be born to fix the realm one day.

Vesper's POV:

Vesper stared at the thatch roof of his orphanage, unable to close his eyes and embrace his much-needed sleep. It wasn't Boris' dragon-like snoring, a hallmark of Ms. Eldrins Orphanage, nor the rattle of the rickety two-story building that was being hammered by the turbulent storm that kept Vesper awake. The storm was a bad omen for tomorrow, Vesper supposed, but what kept Vesper's eyes peeled open was that he turned fifteen tomorrow.

The Path. It was life's sole determiner. There were, of course, outliers like the [Farmer Warrior] Gunthrax or the [Lord Janitor] Scrubbly, but it was reasonable to assume that most people's lives fit within the confines of their starting class. A good starting class would make or break you; it determined whether you'd be shoveling shit or causing other people to shit their pants when you strutted by them.

Like any foolish boy age 14 and under, Vesper dreamed about receiving a legendary class that would catapult him to fame and riches. He'd even settle for a rare class, which would also be a miracle considering that he was an orphan.

Starting classes were one part skill, one part hereditary, and a dash of luck. It was why the nobles stayed nobles, the mages stayed mages, and peasants stayed farmers. It wasn't a fair system, but life wasn't fair. Vesper had learned that life wasn't fair from the womb. His deadbeat parents had deserted him to go get drunk and party for the rest of their miserable existence as farmers. This was the case for most orphans at Ms. Eldrin's Orphanage. Vesper vowed that whatever his three choices might be, he'd stay clear of becoming a farmer.

Figuring it was too late to fall back asleep now, Vesper picked himself out of bed and slipped into his ragged oversized tunic. It was meant for a grown man, not a short gangly teenager. The floorboards creaked as he tiptoed his way down the stairs and headed for the small kitchen to steal some bread from the cupboard.

"Who goes there!" shouted Lady Eldrin, wielding a broom and torch, ready to scare away any nighttime intruders. Her 4'9 inch frame would be largely unsuccessful at scaring anyone, but Vesper still found it endearing that she at least tried. Lady Eldrin was more of a parental figure than either of his biological parents.

"It's just me, Ms. Eldrin. I couldn't sleep." Vesper whispered. It was too early to risk waking up the others.

"Ah, it's you, Vesper? I don't blame you for being a little nervous before the big day. I felt the same way when I was your age."

"Did you? I've never seen you nervous, Ms. Eldrin."

"Of course I was nervous! Don't be daft, boy! Path day is the single most important event in a person's life. Just know that whatever choices the gods give you, you'll be able to make something for yourself. You're a good kid."

Vesper paused.

"Ms. Eldrin, what was it like on your Path day?" Vesper asked earnestly.

"Terrible, but, when I look back on that day, maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought." Ms. Eldrin smiled, reminiscing about her youth.

"I'd always wanted to be an [animal caretaker], so much so that any other class I got would be dismissed instantly. It was all I cared about, all I wanted to be."

"You'd turn down even a legendary class to become an [animal caretaker]?" Vesper furrowed his brow, unable to comprehend how someone would turn down such an opportunity to become an [animal caretaker] of all things.

"Yes, I'd even turn down a legendary class to become an [animal caretaker]. As I said, I was single-minded and determined to spend the rest of my life taking care of fluffy creatures, like rabbits, or skunks, or cats. It would've been paradise, or so I thought. Later I learned that skunks spread foul-smelling odors, and I'd have to work with lizards. It turns out the gods knew me better than I knew myself. I enjoy being a [human caretaker]." Lady Eldrin chuckled.

"But what if I end up with no good choices. What will I do with myself?' Vesper worried.

"Look, Vesper. Do all the [human caretaker] 's end up owning an orphanage?"

"Yes?"

"No, they do not. Many [caretakers] wallow in pity that they didn't get the proper class they wanted or that they didn't come from an already filthy rich family. Life is about making the best of the class that you're given. If you put in the effort, you'll hit your advanced class, Vesper. You're smarter than the lot up there." Lady Eldin pointed at the first-floor ceiling.

If Lady Eldin had one strength, it was that she always found something positive in whatever problems life threw at her. Vesper knew that Lady Eldin always thought this way and tried to follow in her footsteps, but he was no Lady Eldin. Sometimes life was just shit. A good portion of Vesper's life had been, at least before he was transferred to Lady Eldin's care.

Only a tiny part of Vesper's disgust of farming came from his parents abandoning him; the much more significant reason came from his time spent at Lorinth's Orphanage Farm. It was more of an indentured servitude-type work environment that took advantage of orphans for labor. No one at Lady Eldin's Orphanage knew he'd come from there, and he was wise enough not to tell them. He'd, of course, seen the scars Lorinth gave to those who fled his farm. Vesper suspected that Lorinth was a [slave driver] posing as a [human caretaker].

Long hours in the sun, shoveling cow shit, and breaking his back toiling the soil was not how Vesper wanted to live the rest of his life. Only fools willingly became farmers.

"Well, I'll let you raid the cupboard before the other kids wake up. Just remember that if you get yourself in trouble, you're not too big of a man to seek help. Also, if you need a letter of recommendation for whatever profession you get tossed in, I'm more than willing to help you."

"Thanks, Ms. Eldin."

"You're welcome, honey." Lady Eldin smiled and tiredly walked back to her bed.

Vesper felt guilty taking bread from the cupboard. He always did. Vesper couldn't shake the feeling that he was freeloading off of Lady Eldin's kindness. Paying her back and freeing the other children from Lorinth's work camp were just a few of the many goals Vesper planned on achieving.

Vesper grabbed a meager portion of bread and sat on the long rustic wooden table. It was the epicenter of the orphanage, and it was where all the kids congregated to socialize and, more importantly, eat. Vesper worried he'd wasted too long speaking with Lady Eldin. Soon the other children would wake up. They were agents of chaos, ruining every morning meal with their pretend sword fighting, crying, and prodding Vesper to play just one game of sticks and bones. It was never just one more game.

Kervin was the first to tumble down the stairs. Kervin was the opposite of Vesper. Vesper had dark brown hair, Kervin had gold strands, where Vesper was a twig, Kervin was a log. He was a child in a full-grown man's body. Vesper had only managed to scarf down half of his bread. He'd have to pick up the pace if he was going to leave before the other kids rose from their slumber.

"Ah, it's a bit early to be up, Vesper! Don't worry. I won't let Lady Eldin know you're up this early." Kervin smiled. He was the second oldest boy at the orphanage; only Vesper was older.

"I already had a good chat with her, Kervin," Vesper mumbled while chewing my bread.

Relief washed over Kervin's face. He located some bread of his own and plopped down on the other side of the table across from me.

"So it's your Path day, today! And what a time to have your Path day; it's only two days before King Renault's birthday."

"You know I don't care about politics, Kervin. All the decisions they make don't involve us. It's best if we focus on ourselves."

"I know you don't like politics, Vesper, but you're the only person who is old enough to grasp my gossip. You know I'm interested in becoming a city administrator, and if I get lucky on my Path day and play my cards right, I can do it."

Vesper rolled his eyes.

"Of course, I know that's what you love to chit-chat about. So what're the latest happenings in the kingdom?" Vesper asked although he didn't actually want to know. Vesper already had enough to worry about.

"The royal family believes King Renault only has a few months left to live. He is well past his prime, and even the wizard order is having trouble keeping him alive. Duke Jasper and Duke Clarence have already started mobilizing their forces."

"And what does that have to do with me. Daydreaming about nobles is a waste of time." Vesper scoffed.

Kervin frowned and crossed his arms.

"It's not a waste of time. I'll have you know there's a lot to learn from the royal line. They get their classes for a reason."

"Maybe they do. But royalty doesn't put food on our table, nor do they help you or me. I'd rather just focus on myself."

"Then you'll want to know that civil war is coming, maybe in a year."

"War isn't coming. They'll toss the crown down to the prince or something. What's his name again? Sounded a bit like Market."

"It's Malik."

"I can never keep up with all their names and bickering," Vesper grumbled.

"Good luck, Vesper," Kervin said as Vesper finished the last few bites of his meal. By now, kids scurried around the table like a bunch of squirrels, playing games and greedily stuffing their faces with food. For the most part, they left Kervin and Vesper alone.

"I'll be back tonight to tell you the good news." Vesper smiled, took one last look of the orphanage he was confident he'd miss, and walked out the door.