“I mean, talk about impressive,” Arran exclaimed, once more. “I’ve known crested sword fighters that weren’t that in tune with the fight. I mean, she’s uncrested!”

Arran had been saying the same thing again and again. He couldn’t believe that Faye had touched him in a duel. Apparently, that hardly happened anymore.

Faye would have been annoyed if not for his general exuberance. It came across as endearing because he wasn’t putting her down, he was genuinely excited that she had been able to best him — briefly.

They had since sparred again but Faye hadn’t come even close to hitting him those times. Ailith had even jumped in for a round at one point. Her style was more ‘immovable object’ rather than duellist, but she still was able to bull through Faye’s attacks safely to get Faye in a losing position.

Gavan had been utterly disinterested in sparring, but after the rounds he had done something amazing.

“By my power, be healed.”

The blue-white light that he had summoned had lifted their aches, removed bruises, and generally made Faye feel more alive and whole than she had since arriving in this place. It removed what seemed like a week’s worth of exhaustion.

“That is amazing, Gavan,” she said. “How do you do that?”

He shrugged, the movement somewhat rigid and precise despite the casualness he replied with.

“It is a simple spell.”

“Can you teach it to me?”

“No.”

“No? You won’t, or can’t?”

“Mmm,” he mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Oh, he’s thinking,” Ailith said. “You won’t get much out of him ‘til he’s well and ready. Damn annoying at times, let me tell ya. You want to be able to heal, then? That’s always in demand, you’d be welcome anywhere with skills like that.”

Faye let Gavan mumble occasionally to himself and turned to the female adventurer. Ailith was currently fully armoured, wearing what looked like half-plate; a solid breastplate, pauldrons, vambraces, gauntlets, and what seemed to be plate on her thighs. Underneath it all she wore a thick, padded black gambeson. She moved in it as easily as Faye did in her hakama-style trousers.

Ailith looked ready to go to battle.

“I’m not sure I’d want to be a full-time healer,” Faye said. “Is… is it like a job? We don’t have healers where I’m from, not really.”

“You must be from somewhere quiet then, if you’ve not got healers,” Ailith said with a small frown. She shrugged. “I guess you could think of it like a job. Not everyone does, but the better ones consider it a job and more. A vocation. A calling. However, they think of it, they’re the good ones.” She lifted a finger towards Gavan. “Unlike this one. He’s not a dedicated healer, but unfortunately for him we need him to be. So, he fills in.”

“And he’s good at what he does,” Arran joined in. “But he’d rather be throwing out fire, or something.”

Faye turned back to the quiet wizard. He didn’t look like a pyromaniac. But then again, it took all kinds.

“So, he’s taken the healer role. Ailith is the tank, and Arran the damage dealer?” Faye asked.

“I’m a Guardian,” Ailith said. Faye could hear the capitalisation in her voice as she spoke. “That means my job is to keep taking the brunt of the attacks whilst Gavan keeps me alive, and Arran kills the thing.”

“We called those roles tanks, back home,” Faye said. “Guardian makes just as much sense, though.”

“I’m not sure what a water storage barrel has to do with being a guardian, but sure,” Ailith said.

Faye blinked. It seemed that whatever magic of translation that was at work wasn’t perfect. She had realised that the reason her voice sounded strange to her was that though she was thinking and speaking English in her head, it was coming out… different.

Maybe the magic was just protecting the people here from her outlandish ideas. She shook her head, there wasn’t much point in trying to figure it out. It had led to one or two occasions like this, where she said a word that did not mean the same in the local tongue as it did in English.

Arran had started a small fire in the park that Faye was, temporarily, occupying. He had said that there weren’t enough people nearby to care, and those that were certainly wouldn’t try telling them to put it out. He then started preparing a basic breakfast from rations he pulled from his pack.

“Ailith, I think the herbs are in your pack,” he called.

“Just put everything back this time!”

“I will!”

Ailith shook her head and turned to Faye. “He won’t, he’s terrible.”

Faye smiled. A thought occurred to her, then.

“Ailith, do you all have… levels?”

Ailith’s eyebrows creased together. “Of course…” she lowered her head and voice a little. “We’re adventurers, Faye. We definitely have levels. I’m a Guardian, like I said before. Arran is a Duellist. Gavan is a Mage.”

Again, Faye heard the capitalisation in the emphasis Ailith put on the words.

“Okay, but what are your levels?” she asked.

Arran and Gavan had clearly heard her too. They both turned shocked expressions on her. She looked around at them, wide eyed.

Uh oh, she thought.

“Faye, that’s not a polite question to ask in society,” Arran said. He was firm, but kind. “It’s not a question to ask most people, and even friends can hesitate to answer it. Ask the wrong person and it could cause a confrontation.”

She blushed and ducked her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know.”

They all gave her a strange look but nodded. Arran went back to the fire where he’d erected a small black iron tripod with a small pot hanging in the centre, over the flames.

After a moment, Arran asked Ailith whether she brought some piece of gear with her that Faye didn’t recognise the name for. She moved over to her pack and looked through it. They were discussing a trip they were apparently about to go on.

“I would not be able to teach you how to heal.”

Gavan was staring at her, a little intensely. There was something implied in his words. She had no idea what it was or could be.

“Oh, okay,” she said. “I’m sorry I asked.”

He didn’t say anything more, and the other two were too busy arguing over something that they hadn’t heard. Faye had to push it away. It wasn’t like it had been a serious request.

“Arran, we’re only going to be gone a few days!”

“Yes, a few days is what we’ve planned, but what about that time with the—”

“That was a one-off! What are the chances that we run into something like that pack of slavering beasts again?”

“I wasn’t even talking about the time we ran into the hounds!”

“Ah…”

Faye wasn’t sure what they were arguing about, but it didn’t matter. She was thinking about the way that people reacted around her. It seemed that even these three, as nice as they had been to her, had reasons not to speak to her normally.

Something in her chest ached. She put her hand against her breastbone, but of course it wasn’t a physical sensation really, so it did nothing to stop the ache inside her.

“Faye, are you okay?”

She looked up. The three adventurers were staring at her.

“Yes, why?”

“You’re crying.”

She lifted a hand to her face, feeling the wetness on her cheeks. When she looked back up, everything was blurred by tears that welled up from nowhere.

A second later, she was sobbing, hard. She hunched over and hugged her knees tightly against her chest, gently rocking back and forth.

Someone laid a hand on her back and rubbed in time with soothing words. She wasn’t sure what they were saying, but it didn’t matter.

Tears kept falling, and that ache inside her grew harsher as she cried. The sobs that wracked her frame brought up a sense of embarrassment or shame that made her want to crawl into a ball and disappear.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Here, take this.” Something warm was pushed into her hands, their own hands wrapping around her own to make sure he had a hold on it.

Whatever it was smelled amazing. Her belly rumbled, and the sobs withdrew momentarily.

“What is it?”

“It’s breakfast mash,” Arran said. “It’s usually what we have on the road. Hot, filling, and nutritious.”

She sniffed again. She couldn’t see what was in the mug very easily. She mumbled out a thank you, then brought it to her lips and tried some.

It scalded her tongue, but it was good. She let out another sob.

“Why are you being nice to me?” she sob-asked.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Arran said. He was crouched in front of her. Ailith was the one rubbing her back, she could feel her armoured bulk next to her now.

“No one has been since I got here. They all look at me like I’m… weird, or something. They talk to me like I’m a child. I just… I’m so alone. Then you… you all…”

There was a pregnant pause after her words. She took a single hand off the hot mug to wipe her face, move the tears away from her eyes so she could see what they were doing.

Gavan was still off to the side, but he looked concerned, Arran was smiling at her, and Ailith looked a little uncomfortable despite the reassuring back rubs.

“Well, that’s because you’re not acting how they expect you to, I figure. You’re clearly no simpleton.”

Faye froze. The ache in her chest faded away as fast as it had risen. In its place a fiery heat flushed her face, neck, and chest.

“A simpleton? Why would I be a simpleton?”

Ailith continued, oblivious to the sensation now coursing through Faye. “Well, at first glance you’re young, very young. But then you get closer and it’s obvious you’re no child, but then, well… your level. It makes people question—”

“I am not a child.”

“No, of course not. But your hair, your eyes, then your level… well, it just isn’t what people expect.”

Faye carefully placed the hot mug down to the side. Then she got to her feet.

“What do you mean, ‘my hair, my eyes, my level’?”

Ailith looked at the now standing Faye, her eyes widening, then she turned to Arran, spluttering a little.

“Well… ah, they…”

“You can’t have missed the fact that you look different to everyone else here, Faye?” Arran was speaking softly. “We mean no disrespect. But your fair hair is quite attention grabbing. To then realise that you’re uncrested, too.”

Faye threw up her hands in the air.

“Oh, for God’s sake!”

Ailith drew in a sharp breath.

“Faye, how old are you?” Arran asked, quietly.

“I’m 23, why? Is it bad to be unmarried at my age or something else I can’t help?”

“Why haven’t you crested yet?”

Faye turned to look Arran straight in the face, directly into his dark eyes.

“I. Don’t. Know. What. That. Means.”

A look of pure confusion passed over his face.

“Cresting,” he said, as if that explained anything.

She just waited.

“Reaching level ten?” he said, eventually.

She let out a breath she’d been holding. “Oh, thank God! Someone’s come out and actually told me something for once.”

“Faye,” Ailith said through gritted teeth. “Please stop saying that.”

She ignored the woman. “So, I’m not level ten yet. What does that mean? Explain it to me like I’m a simpleton.”

Arran winced. “Most people have crested, reached level ten, by the age of 18 at the latest. In fact, many people consider 18 to be too old. The sooner someone crests, the better their prospects. Of course, this means that in some cases there are people that get themselves killed doing stupid things…” he trailed off as he saw her face. “But that’s not the point.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. He was still crouched on the balls of his feet. “Okay, so, being uncrested or crested is the point in someone’s life where they are officially an adult. To have not reached that point by the time you are 23, I’m sorry to say, means that you were either incredibly stunted in growth, or your mind doesn’t work as fast or well as other people’s.”

Faye clenched her fists tightly. She didn’t want to lash out. It had never solved her problems in the past. Except against those animals that had attacked her, she supposed.

After a moment to gather herself, she spoke again.

“So let me get this straight. I am not yet level ten, and due to that I’m considered a child, despite the fact that I am a full-grown woman at 23 years old? What happens if some eight-year-old kid reaches level ten?”

Arran scowled. “It’s happened. Not often, but it does. They don’t always reach their ninth birthdays. True children aren’t always good judges of situations, and they can easily get into fights they shouldn’t have entered, or in situations that are much more deadly than they ever realised.”

“They are sought out,” Gavan said. “To be killed, or enslaved.”

Faye looked at the mage in horror. “Why would they be killed or enslaved?”

“A child that reaches their cresting by the age of eight is clearly gifted or has in their possession something that would help anyone gain levels easily,” Arran submitted. “It’s not a welcomed practice, but it happens, unfortunately.”

“Of course,” Ailith put in, “there’s also a chance that someone who hasn’t reached their cresting by 18 isn’t an idiot nor stunted by environment but is a coward. One that runs from life’s challenges, chooses not to engage at all, will never overcome the barriers of the system and rise to the heights the rest of us strive for.”

Faye frowned. She looked down at her outfit. It was still torn and tattered from her days in the mountains.

“Does it really look like I’ve avoided life’s challenges?”

“No,” Arran said. “That’s why people default to treating you like a child. It’s partly because they look down on physically older uncrested, and it’s partly because they don’t know what to think.”

“You three seemed to react pretty normally,” Faye said. “Why didn’t you all react like I was an idiot?”

Arran leaned backwards, then straightened his legs and stretched for a moment before standing fully. “Because we’re adventurers. We see more than the ordinary all the time. We train ourselves not to judge something by its appearance. It can get you killed. Plus, you were holding that sword like you knew how to use it. That’s not something that I mistake easily.”

“And we can tell by speaking with you, of course,” Ailith said. “If people don’t give you the chance to speak, they’re going to let their initial impression of you form their whole opinion.” She shrugged. “It’s human nature.”

Faye nodded. That much was true. She was just frustrated that something that she hadn’t even known had existed until a few days ago was apparently the measure for adulthood in this place.

“I have spoken to other people,” she said. “They still respond like I’m a child sometimes.”

“Well, you don’t seem to know much about the world… but it’s obvious to us that you’re intelligent.”

“You fight well,” Gavan said. “For your level.”

“Yes!” Ailith cried out. “You kicked Arran’s arse in a duel.”

Arran’s back straightened, and he turned to Ailith with narrowed eyes. “She did not best me in a duel. It was a sparring match.”

Ailith waggled her eyebrows at Faye. “Uh oh, I’ve said the magic word. It’s a shame that our team ruled out duels between teammates when we formed, isn’t it?”

Arran’s cheek twitched. Faye snorted out a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she said, holding up her hand in front of her face. “I didn’t mean to laugh.”

Looking between the two women, Arran let out a sigh and turned back to the fire.

Ailith looked at Faye, sharing a look. They both descended into almost-silent giggles.

“Get ready to go, you horrible woman,” Arran called out. “Gavan, make sure you’re prepared too. We’ve got a job to do.”

Faye wasn’t happy with what they’d told her, how could she be? But at least she’d learnt something about the world she was in now. That internal ache hadn’t really come from nowhere. It was still there now, as it had been since she’d arrived. But it was quieter now. Not gone, perhaps never truly gone, but less likely to burst forth out of nothing.

She watched them pack up, wished them luck, and waved them off. They promised her they’d see her again soon. But if she knew anything it was that ‘a few days’ was a lifetime, and anything could happen between now and then.

But now she knew what she needed to do.

Level ten wasn’t that far away, but could it really be as simple as levelling up?