“Every region has certain idiosyncrasies to the Classes people have. For instance, in the highest peaks, it is said that there is no Class, only , for to be a resident in the peaks is to be a low-level innately.”

Oreanen Vainen, the Emerald Sage, on the nature of regional Classes

The days passed, with Sharron, and to a lesser extent the town, still grieving. The funeral was a simple, clean affair; Marvin’s coffin hand carved with dark wood from the nearby forest. Vartur, Dannek, Talia (Marvin’s mother), other family and friends all spoke. Sharron made a few remarks before having to excuse herself, and Coll gave a eulogy.

“In our darkest hours, Marvin sheltered us.” He indicated the escaped prisoners who had found a place for themselves in the town. “He gave us his heart and soul, he trusted each and every resident of this town with every fiber of his being. A common joke went, ‘when do Marvin and Sharron every get the time to sleep/eat/drink/relieve themselves. Well, that joke spoke to a kernel of truth we all recognized: that Marvin loved to help this town, putting the comfort, safety, and growth of its citizens above his own every time. He was a good man, a great man, and we must strive to always try to emulate even a fraction of his kindness and generosity. Praise the Heavens, where he now rests, in eternal peace.”

A pall of loss hung over the town still, but on a happier note, Bim and his team were settling into their roles as administrators of the town, and things were chugging along nicely. More and more cure elixirs were being produced, and soon the number of infected were a minority of the town’s inhabitants.

A week after Marvin’s death, Zara woke up to hear a new notification in her mind.

Class Variant Unlocked!

🠊 Level Level 24

Class absorbed into Class

Talent — retained

Talent Advancement Unlocked!

🠊

She did her normal morning stretch routine, feeling stronger, more limber, and… heavier, somehow. Like her very bones now carried a density they hadn’t previously. She had a feeling she wasn’t as fast as she used to be, but she felt like a walking mountain, with the strength and durability to match.

Bim had elected to sleep in late, and the two of them ate brunch together. Near the tail end, Coll joined them, chuckling to himself. Leaning in conspiratorially, he whispered: “Forana’s leveled up last night. Twice. It’s a big secret.” Right as he finished speaking, Forana sprinted inside, grinning from ear to ear, and sat down at the table, jittery with excitement. “I leveled up! Twice! It’s amazing!”

Coll rolled his eyes. “Everybody already knows that, dummy.”

She frowned. “Really? But I haven’t told anybody ye…” She glared at him. “What did you do?”

He smiled mischievously, his face reminiscent of Forana’s whenever she toyed with him. “I just used . A useful Talent, that one. It lets me pick up all kinds of juicy gossip. Speaking of, Zara…” He turned to her. “I bet you a silver you don’t even know what a is, or how to get the most out of it.”

Bim and Forana looked at Zara with raised eyebrows, and she grunted: “New Class,” which made Bim grin. She looked at him for a moment, then responded: “That’s a sucker’s bet, but I’ll bite on what a is.”

Coll was very self-satisfied, per usual. “ are a bit like in the cities, but they only pop up in Gontad or in other rural hilly or mountainous areas like here. They draw from the strength of the hills themselves, it’s said. They don’t appear much anymore; it’s considered an outmoded Class by most people, especially as more and more folks gravitate towards cities and large towns and such. The way you really juice the Class up is by enforcing law, keeping the peace. You’re doing well at it in general, but you need to learn the local laws, educate yourself more deeply on the customs and punishments for crimes, and immerse yourself in the regional culture. The more you do that, the more you’ll level and the stronger your Talents will be.”

While chewing on the slew of new information, Zara and Bim headed out to survey the town. Zara stopped by the local library. It was a quiet, maybe thirty foot square two-room building made of very neat gray bricks, run by a single elderly white-haired woman named Sabrina Widdershins, who introduced herself as a and . Zara checked out a large tome on local law, Justice and Legal Oversight Below The Steeps, and Bim perused a couple of thin handwritten treatises by the deceased of the town.

After that, they checked with Forana and her group-- they’d managed to increase their output to sixteen potions a day, and had made a breakthrough in their alchemical research, extending the duration of the cure to twenty-one hours, a great deal better than twelve.

After they helped chop wood-- Zara did most of the work there, she could chop as steadily and as strong as three level 5 -- assisted in bleeding a hog, took a half hour to help build an outhouse, and various other projects around town, the pair ended their day in front of the Mayoral House, a small cottage in the central square of town, whose windows had been shuttered for several days now.

Bim knocked on the door three times, a steady rapping sound, and he heard shuffling inside. After a couple of minutes, the door opened smoothly-- its hinges were ever-oiled, as had been the prim and proper way of the two Mayors. Now, though, Sharron had stopped oiling it. She’d stopped cleaning the home, as the pair could see from the clothes, dishes, memorabilia, and other belongings scattered on the floor and counters. The place was dim, and a deep sadness could be felt in the air.

“Sharron? We’ve come to bring you an early dinner.”

No answer.

He walked in, anxious, Zara following, her body tense and wary.

They both let out quiet sighs of relief when they found Sharron, alive and well, in the corner, clutching a bottle of some dark liquor.

“It was a wonderful eulogy.” She hiccuped. “That man, Coll, was it? He gave such a nice speech. Marv… Marv would have liked it.” Her voice sounded cracked, dry, a slurred whisper.

Zara set a wooden platter of food on the ground, steam still coming off the cooked vegetables, and stood there, seeming uncertain of what to do with herself. Bim squatted down so he was at Sharron’s eye level, and held out a hand.

“Do you want to know what Marvin would do?”

“Don’t tell me what my husband would do. I knew him for twice as many years as you’ve been alive.” Her voice was suddenly full of vitriol, before she seemed to collapse into herself, crying again. “What am I saying? You’ve been a good kid. Doin’ my job for me when I should be. I miss him. I-- I don’t know what it’s like to live without him. Twenty-four years. Twenty-four years, son. And he’s taken away from me.” She took a slug from the bottle.

“He’d weep, and mourn, and lock himself away too, I think.” Bim said after a beat. “He’d be miserable, he’d be distraught, he’d feel lost. I haven’t experienced what you’re experiencing, but I can take a guess. And if he was here, you know what he’d say?”

After a hiccup, Sharron spoke slowly and firmly, slurring gone, at least temporarily. “Get up now, honey. I know it’s hard, but the town doesn’t stop needing you just because I’m gone.”

“Exactly, ma’am. Good advice to follow.”

Zara and Bim helped her to her feet, and she stumbled outside to vomit. But color seemed to be returning to her, a certain liveliness that had fled with her husband’s death slowly returning.

Zara looked at him, a touch in awe. “You certainly know how to give a pep talk.”

“You’re a good teacher.” Was all he said, smiling a small smile.

Level 4!

Talent — gained!