“It is a well-observed phenomenon that most people only Advance their main Class once in their lifetimes. In my travels I have encountered, out of the many hundreds of ordinary and exceptional people interviewed, only perhaps 1 in 10,000 who had Advanced their Class two or more times, or, in more mathematical language, zero point zero one percent of the sample size.”

Orenn Vainean, the Emerald Sage, discussing Class Advancement

“I leveled up last night.” Bim and Zara sat in the cage. It was noon on the fourth day of travel, which means it was above freezing for a couple precious hours. The pair of Desolates were playing a children’s game of Xs and Os with a little piece of charcoal that one of the guards had given them in exchange for advice on how to fix his chronic neck pain from Bim.

Zara looked at him. “You should keep that news closer to your chest, boy. Wait till they have an Arcgem shoved up your ass before just handing out your level like candy.”

He just smiled. “I figure it won’t do me much harm to be more valuable to the people locking us up. I’m a level 2 now, thanks for asking.”

She just smiled a thin smile, the first real one he’d seen from her. “You’re a bold one for a Healer, kid. I worry it’ll getcha into trouble.” She glanced over her shoulder. “The poor sickly bastard’s still hanging on. You must be doing something right.”

Bim’s face dimmed a tad. “I honestly don’t know. I just don’t have the levels to make up for how bad these conditions are. I’m shocked he wasn’t dead by the time I realized what he had.” He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “Zara, do you want to fight people?”

Zara looked at him, a little confused and intrigued, an expression he was getting used to seeing. “Of course I want to fight people, sonny. I’m a , even if I did run away at the end.”

“You look close to forty.” He said, a little embarrassed at bringing up a woman’s age. “And you haven’t even Advanced your Class? How long have you been in the army?”

Zara’s face darkened, becoming tighter. “I served for almost twenty years. Lineholder’s Medal, two Bronze Stars, and a personal commendation from the company commander himself. Dishonorable discharge, though, so I wonder how much it all meant.”

“Twenty years, and you’re still in the early levels of a basic class?”

She turned away from him. “Don’t ask so many questions, boy.”

🟌

That night, the sick Desolate, who no-one knew the name of, died pitifully in his sleep. Bim was silent when he found out, eyes empty, face a mask. The guards threw the body over the sheer edge of the mountaintop pass, where it fell down until it hit a ledge or an outcropping or perhaps a distant tree of the forest so many hundreds of feet below. The man had possessed nothing except for his clothes, the thin blanket Bim had convinced the guards to give him, and a small necklace, a length of twice with a small pewter bear, perhaps a inch long, was tied.

As one of the guards grabbed it, Bim help a hand through the bars, face barren. “Please.” He said in a small voice. “Please, give me it. I need to remember… Remember him.”

The guard in question looked at the boy, scoffed, and slapped away his hand. “It’s mine, pipsqueak. I’m gonna add it to my collection.” The other guard, a thinner, slightly younger man who Bim had helped with his neck trouble, grimaced at his

partner. “Jules, just give the kid the bear thing. He’s been a model prisoner, and he just spent days trying to keep the guy alive.”

The first guard, Jules, turned and snarled at the second. “Shut it, Prinner. You get all sorts of trinkets all the time. I deserve this, walking for hours and hours in these godforsaken mountains, having to look after these dregs.”

Prinner shrugged, shot an apologetic glance towards Bim, and just walked away. Jules harrumphed and strode off to berate a prisoner further down the line. The fifth day passed slowly and silently, Bim not smiling or talking anymore, and when their daily bread was dispensed, he left his to sit before Zara snatched it up, looking a smidge guilty. At long last, Zara said to him, quietly enough so that hopefully no-one else could hear, “I’m gonna break out, once we get further down the pass, and into a place where people can actually survive on their wits. I know you stole a little knife or something from that bastard guard. I get something like that, even a half-decent weapon, you trick the guards into unlocking the cell, and we make a run for it. Head south, through the foothills, and find some small town where we can ply our trades.”

After a time, Bim spoke quietly. “Why bring me with you? I’ll just slow you down.”

Zara frowned at that. “A will be useful in finding work and making friends. And, on top of that, you…” She grimaced. “You’re a good kid, Bim. You don’t deserve to get worked to death.”

“O-okay.” He said at last. He seemed to be hiccuping silently, but Zara realized after a time that he was quietly sobbing, tears running down his face. She awkwardly scooted closer.

“You want a hug, kid?” She asked.

“Y-yeah.” He hiccuped, nose running.

They hugged clumsily, and a strength flared inside her.

Conditions Met! Class Variant unlocked!

🠊 Level 10!

DO YOU WISH TO MERGE AND Levels?

YES/NO

The same prompt that came up every time she closed her eyes, except this time both Classes had changed. She wasn’t a regular anymore, and she definitely wasn’t the bitter officer she had been. What would they combine into? Would she like what the Archons would say she was becoming?

For the first time in her life, she thought YES before falling asleep.

Conditions Met! Class Merge attained! New Class unlocked!

Level 10 (N) + Level 4 (N) = Level 2! (I)

Talents Retained:

(N)

(N)

(N)

(N)

(N)

Talent — attained! (I)

Talent — attained! (I)

🟌

“Do you think-- do they shove us in such harsh conditions when we’re being transported to force us to level or die, just to make us more valuable?” Bim was still quiet, but perked up at the admittedly longest sentence Zara had ever spoken to him.

“It’s a thought I’ve been having for a bit, actually.” He said, growing quiet as he thought of Tin Bear Man, that being the nickname they’d given to the poor dead soul. “I’ve gained a level in just in the last few days. You’ve undoubtedly gained at least one level from how you phrased that question, and I’m sure that the other prisoners have gained a level or 2 in some Survivor-type Class.”

“It’s similar to something we-- they-- would do at the forts. When things got especially bad, the commanders would throw large groups of greenhorns into the fray with minimal training, and the minority, the ones that survived, would level a lot, maybe even advance their Class, all from one single massive bloodbath of a battle. ‘Course, they don’t tell people out East that, ‘cause they’d get angry that so many lives were being practically thrown away.” She frowned, thinking of everything she’d been complicit in for the war effort, and feeling less and less like the gains outweighed the sins.

“We should be reaching the foothills within the next couple days.” Bim said. “I want to go through with your plan, but I have one suggestion. We wait until we’re as close to Cardona as possible, and we hide away in the outskirt towns around the Kingslake. They’ll never catch us among so many people.”

Zara agreed to the alteration to the plan instantly, and they ate and drank their noontime rations with gusto, knowing they’d have at least a chance at freedom soon.

As the sun set and the sixth day of travel drew to a close, they came out of the ravine and into the waning sunset’s fiery light, seeing before them green hills spilling out far into the distance, and clear blue sky visible in its fullness above, though the view was a bit subtracted from when behind cage bars.

“You know my reason for being here, Bim, but I don’t know yours. What did you do?”

“I helped someone I wasn’t supposed to, and because of one mistake they took everything from me.” His voice wavered with emotion at the end, and they didn’t talk of it any more.

Zara awoke in the dark to the sound of bloodcurdling howls.