The captain leads me out of the guard house and to the road, the old man is behind us. My head is on a swivel looking at the various buildings. That roof is red, those shutters are green, that one has glass windows, that's the first glass I've seen. Ow, I think I stepped on a rock. Stopping and raising my foot brings attention to my bootless nature.
“Is it bleeding?” No, “Put your foot down Sara.”
I follow the captain's orders. The captain bends down, undoes the cloth rollup I had at my ankles, and proceeds to tear the cloth. I grit my teeth at the sound. Sorry guardsman Johnston, I hope you weren't emotionally attached to these pants. She wraps my feet in the cloth. The cloth scratchiness tickles.
“Stop moving so much” I apologize and she finishes cladding my feet in cloth. “That should do for now. Look, the tavern is right over there.”
We enter through an entrance that fits two people easily. There are a few tables about, with a scattering of people seated at them. A barmaid with pink hair is standing with her back turned near a long bar, talking to a shorter man with brown hair, who is behind the bar. We go to a table in the back, there is some distance between the other patrons. As we are sitting down the captain gets the attention of the barmaid and makes a gesture. The barmaid looks, nods and heads through a door, hopefully to find food.
Well, if I ask the old man something, I'm sure the food will arrive faster. “What's an inherited skill?”
Sure enough, the old man launches into his lecture, “Every person in this world is a reincarnation, if you go by what system worshipers tell you.”
The captain snorts at that, the old man continues. “Whether that's true or not is irrelevant, the fact is there are reincarnators whose memories are not completely removed, as you no doubt experienced.” I squirm in my seat.
“The memories of course will grant soul levels, at least one language the previous life was fluent in, and generally a skill or two based on what type of work they used to do.”
Guess being a code monkey doesn't amount to much.
“Now don't look too glum, your memories can grant you insight into skills learned later on as well.”
Before he can elaborate, Pink hair comes back with two plates of food. She places the food in front of the old man and the captain. “I'll be back with your drinks.”
As she walks off, the captain pushes her plate in front of me. Sausage and pickled cabbage. My hunger makes even the cabbage taste wonderful. Two drinks join the table, some words are said and then a huff. It doesn't really matter, this sausage is delicious. I'm brought out of my frenzy when another drink is placed loudly in front of me. I look up to say thanks, and stop when I meet pink hair's eyes. They're full of contempt. I mumbled thanks and she turns away and leaves with another huff.
“Am I breaking the dress code,” I tilt my drink towards myself to peer in, “hope she didn't spit in it.” It's just water.
The captain has a new plate in front of her, she grimaces at my statement, “What, ew no.”
I sign as I stand my mug.
The old man inquires, “She didn't actually do that did she?”
“Huh, oh no I was just hoping for something that's not water.”
“You're a little early for drinking ale, Sara, at least wait till you're ten”.
Jesus, I thought I had another eleven years to go. What sort of society is giving booze to ten year olds? Maybe it is so diluted, it's practically water, just like beer from home. Wait.
“I am ten.”
“Really, you look seven or eight. Your physical stats are quite low, perhaps that makes you look smaller than most. I wonder if . . .”
I tune out the old man and turn to the captain. “We should totally get me some ale.”
“You have a constitution of six, and no [Alcohol Tolerance] skill, I prefer to finish my meal before having to carry you out.”
“Wait, you can level a skill by drinking alcohol, that means you can level by drinking wine”
I'm getting excited by the thought, the captain snorts, “Wine? How are you going to be able to afford wine if you're spending all your time passing out from trying to level the skill.”
I won't be deterred.
“My understanding is that at the highest level of [Alcohol Tolerance] you no longer feel inebriated.”
I'm being deterred. No, wait, my worthless title means I can't get the skill so there is no problem. Future Sara can worry about leveling off wine. Today Sara, need only do the perfect whine at the captain to get wine . . . Er or ale. That's how you show maturity. Then the real issue comes to mind.
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“Um, er miss captain lady ma'am?” The captain raises her eyebrow while her mug of probably delicious ale is blocking the rest of her face.
“What's your name?” She chokes.
Slamming her mug down and catching her breath, she admonishes, “I'm quite certain I introduced myself when I came into the holding room.”
I give her a blank look. Did that happen? It feels like days since then. The old man speaks up while I get further lost in thought.
“I think Sara was eating your barracks daily allotment of bread at the time. She seems quite prone to . . .”
Ah bread life, you were dense but you were mine. Wait, daily allotment? There wasn't that much bread. Maybe it wasn't, there is a food shortage right? Supply and demand. Just how much is this dinner going to cost—
“Sara, Sara, SARA.” I'm looking at the captain now. “Good, I didn't want to have to introduce myself for a third time, my name is Cecelia Maxwell.”
Everyone got last names, well everyone who is important. Memory tingles, does that make them nobility. I ask.
“Third son, I hold no title, but I did receive an education.”
“My grandfather was a well to do merchant and purchased a title.”
“Is there a proper way I am to refer to you . . . Um ma'am.”
“There is, I've been giving allowances since you look like your six.”
What happened to seven or eight, “Which is?”
“Captain.” she flicks me on my forehead. Ow that kinda hurt, is this revenge for not knowing her name? I'm rubbing the spot looking for sympathy. My mind returns to a previous thought.
“Is this alright, with the food shortages this meal must cost alot.”
The old man shocks me, “There's no food shortage.”
“But my village was forced to give up all their food for the war.”
Cecelia snorts, “That little spat, no, our lord, may he never find a warmer bed than his mothers, needed provisions for the winter and decided instead of angering all the areas by taking a little from each, he just condemn one village to starvation. Probably thinks, if there is a rebellion, they will be too few in number and too starved to fight.”
“The sacrifice”, Cecelia and the old man wince at that. I continue “this spat, it's at least important right?”
The old man replies, “If I recall correctly, the lord's sons are vying for a lady's attention.”
“So whoever wins will get to marry this lady? That doesn't sound worthy of starving a village.”
“Bart said attention not hand, I doubt she even knows there is fighting going on.”
I slump onto the table, that's just too much. “You sure I can't have any ale?”
I get a head pat for that. “Bart, will you be taking Sara to the mages tomorrow?”
“No, I don't think I will.”
“Why not, you seemed interested before?”
I answer from my position as a lump on the table, “Probably ‘cause my title makes me worthless.”
“Yes, but not because of your aura. Your inability to gain new skills would preclude any interest.”
Oh, right. New question, “Is there anything I can do about that? The title, I mean, can I go back to being a [Child].” Haven't we all wished for that, one way or the other.
“[Child] is a temporary title, once replaced it can't come back. Anyone who gains the [Adult] title tends to be rather derided. It shows they never qualified for anything but the default.” the old man explains.
“So not [Adult] or [Child], would getting a job work?”
“Yes, your employer can bestow you with a title.” Cecelia this time.
So just get a job and problem solved. Cecelia continues, “You do have to qualify for the work, skills and stat levels and such. For instance a guard needs thirty in strength, and constitution, twenty in the other stats. As well as a strength combat skill, and [Lesser Stanima]. If you don't meet those requirements, even should I hire you as a guard, you wouldn't get the title because no one would think you are qualified to be a guard.”
“Why would others need to see me as a guard if you're the one employing me?”
The old man answers instead, “It's the collective system, a system title only gets made if enough people think there should be a title. Take a village blacksmith, they work for themselves, they have no employer, but they provide blacksmithing services and everyone recognizes them as being a blacksmith, so they gain the title.”
This is too much talking, so I have to qualify for a job, be recognized as being qualified for the job. If a village sees you in a specific role that everyone agrees on you will gain a title . . . My head shoots up.
“Did my village give me the job of being [Voiceless]!”
“Its more like being labeled as a pariah in your case, but essentially yes. To change that, you would need to convince your village that you could hear the voice. Tell me Sara, when did you gain your title?”
I can't hear the voice, there is no convincing my village if I have to lie. I answer the question, “It was the day after my 6th birthday, father had asked me if I could hear the voice”
-----
The child replied “No”.
She looked like she was trying to make herself smaller. The child hadn't been growing as fast as the other children. Trying to be smaller caused her father to wince.
“I don't care what Tom says, I'll hear the voice soon, Alec said so.”
The bravado again, after being caught lying so many times, it's all the child has been showing every day. It has been a full year of waiting. It started with a few but the village keeps whispering it, voiceless. The father refused to believe it, until the child spoke with such bravado that it broke his heart.
“Even if I am voiceless, I'll still make it in the world, just you wait and see world.”
The father could no longer refuse to believe.
-----
“It was like a daily ritual at that point, then I went out to the village fountain and Tom was practicing [Identify], he looked at me and then he shouted out, ‘Your [Voiceless]’, I called him a liar, but everyone around us just kept saying it was true. I looked at my [Staus Screen] and I was no longer a [Child]. Next day I was given my knife.”
Which I still haven't gotten back yet. “Ah yes, remind me tomorrow to give you back your knife.” Guess future Sara will take care of that. I yawned. The old man refrained from engaging me after that long yawn.
“Its about time I go find a tree to sleep in, thank you for the meal and explaining like so many things.” It's not like I had any money. I get out of my chair and start heading towards the exit. The neck hole to my tunic suddenly becomes taut. I make a choking sound.
“Nope, you're coming with me Sara.”
Turning my head, I see Cecelia has my tunic by the scruff. My vision gets blurry, but I smile. She leaves some money on the table and we head out. The old man throws a similar amount of coins on the table. Guess they decided to split the check. After we exit, the old man says his goodbyes and goes in a different direction. We're passing the village fountain, Cecelia brushes the orb, I walk by it.
“Sara, are you not going to do your daily tithe?”
“I'm not allowed to.”
“That's only because they didn't know that you were part of the system. Come provide some of your mana to the town, for its health and defense.”
I shrug, reach out and touch the orb. I promptly fall unconscious.
