The class erupted into muttering at the instructor’s words, and rather than waiting for the noise to die down, she spoke over it.

“Yes, yes. I don’t have much for you today. Partially, that’s because our first few weeks will be in the dungeon, shadowing real adventurers. But more than that, it’s because a good portion of this course is to be done in teams of five, and not all of you have those yet! At the front of the room, you’ll find forms to fill out. If you already have your group settled, then you can register them now. If you don’t, then fill out what you have and what you’re looking for. We’ll distribute that information next class so you can start looking it over to get an idea of who you want on your teams, and then soon thereafter we’ll be having a social event.

“It’s mostly meant for those who need more members or those who are trying to join an existing team, but you’re welcome to attend even if you have all of your five already. Never hurts to get to know your classmates better! If at the end of the event you still aren’t on a full team, we’ll work that out then.”

That appeared to be the end of the speech until the teacher seemed to recall something at the last moment, chiming back in.

“Oh! And you’ll have access to the dueling arenas and the Perception rooms during the event as well. No need to use them, but it’s just in case you need to prove your worth and show your skills off to a prospective team.”

There was a little more after that about exact deadlines and logistical minutiae, but soon thereafter, class ended early. Despite her being the largest of us, Alara proved the most eager to plow through the crowd, and in a heartbeat, she returned to us with a team sheet.

“We shall accept only the best!” she shouted out. “PPG took first on her Perception test, and Dark Plant Man took first on the written exam. Between the two of you, we shall be unstoppable!” She began to write down our names in the provided spaces, spelling them out as she went. “D-a-r-k P-l-a-”

Apparently exasperated enough to cut through his usual meekness, Emin snatched the paper from Alara. “Give me that.”

As Alara made general noises of indignation and protest, I couldn’t help but smile. When we all parted ways, I found myself eagerly anticipating delving into the dungeon with the two of them. Much more immediately, however, I had other things to look forward to.

Guess it’s time to see if I actually chose some good classes or not.

A bushy-bearded and heavy-set man leaned against a table in a room that vaguely reminded me of a high-school shop class. On each of his fingers was a ring, though rather than the standard metal, all ten were made of wood. His neck, his ears, and even his nose received similar treatment, all of them host to some form of wooden accessories.

“Wood! ‘S good for everything! Need a home? Build it out’a wood! Need some furniture to stick in it? Build it out’a wood! Maybe a little tchotchke to stick on your new wooden shelf, yeah? Guess what. Wood!” He gestured around the room as he spoke, plenty of shelves and tables and trinkets and knick-knacks serving as testaments to his claims.

“A bangle for your buxom lover? Wood! A ring for your other not-so-buxom lover?” At this, he waggled the fingers on one of his hands, making sure to show off what I assumed was his own craftsmanship had we not already noticed it. “Also wood!”

In hindsight, not making me feel better about that time I gave Nadja the bracelet I made, but… oh well.

“Whether it’s carving, carpentry, or construction, most of the best things in life are wooden. If you don’t believe me, that’s fine! You will by the end of the course. We’ll be covering all three of ‘em here, and some more besides. First day’s the boring day, folks. Time to fill out some good ol’ forms for me with your levels in wood-related skills. If you’re already nice’n high leveled in something, we can see about some fancy side projects for you, yeah? But after that: It’s wood time, baby!”

My third class of the semester was perhaps a bit… different.

If nothing else, the class make-up was, at least. I’d been under the impression that “Mining for Prospective Miners” was for academy students like me. What I hadn’t realized was that it might as well have been titled “Mining for Prospective Minors” instead. While a small handful of the students looked a touch older, the bulk of the people surrounding me were all teens, at once making me feel remarkably out of place.

Huh. I guess the children really do yearn for the mines. Who would have thought?

It didn’t help that we were all outside and well out of the city, further solidifying that this probably wasn’t going to be the kind of class I was used to.

The main exception to young-age observation was a bulky middle-aged woman at the front of the crowd. Far more naturally than I’d ever managed, she held a pickaxe in her hand, swinging it around in lazy circles.

“All right! Let’s get through the bullshit so we can get to the other bullshit! My name’s Merve, and this is a mining class! Most of you are here because you don’t have a class yet, and you’re hoping to become a Miner! If you don’t like hard work, or you’re afraid of getting dirty,” she said while scanning through the crowd, her eyes seeming to linger on me for longer than they needed to, “then go back home to your mamas! Or your rich grandpas!” This time she definitely was looking my way.

Oooh, okay, guess that cat’s out of the bag.

“If you were under the impression that this was going to be some nice, fancy apprenticeship where we hold your hand, then you were wrong! We’ll be giving you some tippers and enough info to make sure you’re not killing yourself, but most of the time, you’re going to be hacking away at rocks! You want to level your Mining skill high enough to get a mining class, then that’s how you do it!”

Well, at least my Mining level sounds like it’s going to shoot up? Look, I could admit it. I’d never exactly been a manual laborer back on Earth. This wasn’t my ballpark. Then again, I’d never been a fighter or killed monsters either. If nothing else, I liked to believe I was flexible.

“To get the dumb questions out of the way: Yes, you get paid for this! No, you don’t get paid much. No, you don’t get to keep the ore you mine. No, you don’t get a bonus if you find something rare. Yes, we will catch you if you try to smuggle ore home. Yes, this is essentially child labor. No, it’s not illegal. Yes, you’ll get in trouble if you start fighting each other with the pickaxes. Yes, I will smack you if you bug me!”

Friendly. Remind me why Suds thought this was a good idea, again?

“Now, line up to get your gear! Don’t lose it, and don’t break it!” With that riveting and morale-boosting speech, she glared at us until we were in something roughly resembling a line, and started to pass out our gear. When she got to me, I did my best please-don’t-eat-me smile and stopped her.

“Uh, I think I’m good on the pickaxe.” While I was pretty sure mine was weighted a bit differently to have it work better as a weapon, I had no desire to lug around the tool when I could just use my soulbound version. To demonstrate, I summoned up the pickaxe in question.

“Ooh, betcha feel fancy, don’t you? Well, Fancy, you still need a hard-hat, or can you summon that too?”

That’s a good question, actually. The ridiculous miner’s plate armor that Suds had given me did have a hard-hat as part of it, and with my recent class trial completion for Bind Armor, I was theoretically able to summon parts of my armor sets without having to wear the entire suit. I put the new ability to the test, and a moment later, a hard-hat popped into existence on my head.

Merve eyed it skeptically before shaking her head. “Weird skill, Fancy, but yours is missing the mana light.” She tapped on the center of one of the standard issue hard-hats where a crystal was embedded. “Gonna need it to see unless you plan to carry a hand-held the entire time.”

Um. Why do I feel like I should just take the regular hat to not aggravate this woman any further? At the same time, though, I really didn’t need the hat, did I? Wasn’t much need to waste whatever crystal they were using on me, especially if I could further level my own light magic.

“Uh. Sorry. I, uh, have a darkvision skill and can cast Illumination. And also if I need the flashlight…” I toggled on the light variant of Arcane Vision, funneling some extra mana into it until the secondary skill effect occurred. Light flashed out from my eyes, likely not super noticeable outdoors in the sun, but still clear enough.

The middle-aged miner made no attempt to hide her eye roll from me as she retracted the offered hat and replaced it with a gray jumpsuit. “Whatever, kid. Pretty sure letting you in without the issued hard hat breaks some sort of law, but it’s your funeral. Clothing’s not optional, though. And before you gripe at me, I don’t care if it’s not your posh little style choice. It’s a uniform.”

I accepted the proffered clothes with a verbal thanks, opting not to comment any further.

So she and I are going to get along super well, huh?

Contrary to Merve’s claim that we’d be spending the bulk of our classes hitting rocks, the first day had been all about safety lessons. I wasn’t sure if there was a Sylum equivalent to OSHA, but the entire thing had a mandatory feel to it.

Wonder if that’s Suds’ doing to some extent? I didn’t always have the best idea of what he did or how new laws got introduced, but worker safety laws felt very “Chamber Head of the Commons” to me.

While I was perhaps a touch concerned about my super-stellar relationship with my new teacher-cum-boss, my mining class didn’t take up too much headspace. Largely, that was because there were other things — or in this case, people — doing a much better job of vying for my attention.

Namely, the wrinkly old man sitting in front of me.

Advisor Flithus: Level 21 Confidential Advisor, 550/550hp, 211 Prestige

After finishing out the remainder of my uneventful first day of classes, the second day hit me just as quickly as its predecessor had, and at last it was time for the class I was looking forward to the most: Skill Advising.

Much as advertised, Suds had set me up with someone with a fairly high-leveled confidentiality-based class, and I was currently in the man’s office. It was fairly standard and Earth-like as most things went, and I found myself sitting in a chair, separated from the man by a desk. It had a very job-interviewy feel to it.

Flithus himself was somewhat of a curious specimen, draped in faded green robes and with a pair of thin spectacles sitting on his nose. Considering his level and his Constitution, he must have been truly ancient to look as old as he did. Probably not as old as the archmage, and possibly not even as old as someone like Suds, but I found myself wondering just how many people he’d advised over the years.

After going through the various hellos and pleasantries, he clasped his hands and settled into what felt like a well-rehearsed script.

“Now. The fact that you’re here implies that you have at least one thing about your skills that you don’t wish to be revealed to the broader world. You may have heard a bit about what I do, but if you’ll humor me, I’d like to reiterate so we’re on the same page.”

It might have been a bit lazy of me, but knowing that Suds trusted the guy’s skills was mostly enough for me. Still, that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious. I had a fairly good handle on the basics of combat skills by now, but the idea of a class that enforced confidentiality wasn’t something I’d come across yet.

“My class is ‘Confidential Advisor’. While a small smattering of my skills help me in suggesting possible builds and paths for you to peruse and pursue, the greater emphasis is on the ‘confidential’ part. As soon as I see your build, it will be impossible for me to relate that information to others. If I somehow found a way around my restrictions, doing so would likely kill me. The class encrypts all memories related to our sessions, and if it still looks like some sort of mental mage would grab them out of my head, they’d be deleted from my mind. All that to say: Even if you have some sort of horribly evil, calamity-causing power or are a demonic god in disguise, I will not be revealing that to anyone.”

Well, that’s reassuring, I guess? Something told me that being a Protagonist ranked lower than “demon god” in terms of shock and awe factor.

He let out a light chuckle at his earlier words. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were some sort of hidden class quest you’d be helping me fulfill if you were some sort of disguised god, so I can only hope! Jokes aside, however, if that all makes sense, I’d like to take this opportunity to see your build.”

He opened up a drawer in his desk and pulled out a stone that I was well familiar with by now. Accustomed to its use, I wordlessly accepted the build stone and displayed my entire character sheet to the man.

Peering through his spectacles, Flithus began to read over the information presented to him.

“Oh. Hmm. Oh. Oh my.”

With his age, I had to imagine there were very few things he hadn’t seen before. Especially considering his career, it couldn’t have been the first juicy secret he’d come across. Still, after giving the character sheet a once-over, he did seem somewhat taken aback.

I wondered if he’d start peppering me with questions about how exactly I’d ended up the way I was or what I’d done to become a Protagonist.

Far from it, however, a goofy sort of grin covered his face before he turned his attention back my way.

“My dear child, there is so much we can do with this. Now. Let us talk about your skills.”