Appeasing the masses is a simple art. All you have to do is convince them to hate someone else more than you.

  - Duchess Denarla

  ***

  “Mera! Check the stove!”

  “Yes, Mom!” I called out as I ran to the kitchen. It wasn’t a long run. Our house was only three rooms, after all.

  I glanced over the small pan to find the bread almost finished.

  It was simple.

  Everything was simple about this place, but sometimes that felt nice. Boring, especially when I compared it to where I’d come from, but it was pleasantly unburdened as well. No constant need to check my phone. No pressing desire to catch up on anything. No fear of missing out. No trends to follow.

  Peaceful.

  It probably would’ve driven me insane had I been forced to remember my previous life all at once, but I’d been lucky. It had returned slowly over time. Dreams of a little girl about towers that scraped the sky and vehicles powered by fire that traversed the land faster than the birds.

  Just stories. Daydreams. Not real life.

  Unlike most girls and boys in the village, my dreams didn’t fade away under the harsh reality we all shared. Instead, they began to solidify. By the time I was nine, I remembered how to read a language no one else knew. By twelve, I remembered my numbers, though there was no paper.

  By fifteen, I knew enough to be horrified by what this life said I should be proud of. A husband. A farm. Simple expectations for a simple livelihood. I’d live, love, and die, all within miles of where I’d been born. If not for the dreams reminding me of another girl who’d once been called April, I’d have probably been content with that.

  Now though… I wanted more.

  I grabbed the peel and slid it under the little pot before pulling it off the open flame. The bread was done, and I was sure it would be Mom’s best batch yet.

  New Item Crafted

  Rye Bread

  Your Cooking skill has improved!

  “Yes! Mom, I got a point!” I exclaimed. The bread must’ve been exceptional quality or maybe even higher.

  “That’s great, Mera!” Mom called from outside. “I bet if we work hard, we can get you at least one more before tomorrow! Get those apples on the stove, quick! I have them set out for you!”

  I beamed, still inordinately excited. There wasn’t much to get excited about in this life, and I still hadn’t come up with a way to tell my parents that I had no intention of marrying or staying here… even though Reid was kind of cute.

  It was so painfully obvious how much our parents—hell, the whole village—expected the two of us to get married that it still amazed me that no one had come out and said it.

  My eighteenth Nameday was tomorrow. It wasn’t my birthday. They didn’t seem to celebrate those here. Instead, they celebrated the anniversary of the day I’d been named. In Enora, or at least here in my sleepy little village, babies died as often as not and weren’t named until they survived two months after birth when it could be reasonably assumed that they would reach adolescence.

  Like clockwork, two months after I’d been born, I’d been given the name Elmerina, but everyone in the village just called me Mera. The system was apparently culturally cognizant, as it also recognized the Nameday, not the birthday.

  That was relevant because the day I turned eighteen, I would get my talent.

  Theoretically, everything would change then.

  I never really dreamed the same dreams as the other kids in town. I couldn’t be enthralled by the idea of getting an Elite ranked talent, and getting whisked out of my quiet village life to become somebody. I wanted that, of course. But even nobles here didn’t feel rich to me.

  I’d been a middle-class American once. I’d had a shower. I’d known luxury that I wasn’t even sure nobles in this world could fathom. My dream… I guess it was to improve this world somehow. Or at least, to get to the point where I had indoor fucking plumbing.

  But doing that from this tiny little town? How could I even start? I could, at least, dream of getting out of here. Even so… where would I go?

  I supposed that depended, at least a little, on whatever talent I got tomorrow.

  The pervading theory was that talents were based on the breadth and depth of the skills a person had gained by the time they reached eighteen. There were opportunities to change or upgrade them over the intervening years, but the first one set the tone.

  I had significantly more skills than any eighteen-year-old in Enora should possibly be able to have. That was the only thing that made me sure my memories of life as April Halligan weren’t just products of my overactive imagination. The skills I’d learned as both Elmerina and April had been quantified in my status screen.

  Name: Elmerina Farmer

  Age: 17

  Status: Peasant

  Level: 14

  Health: 160

  Mana: 320

  Attributes:

  Strength: 9

  Dexterity: 11

  Vitality: 8

  Intelligence: 16

  Wisdom: 14

  Charisma: 19

  Skills:

  Acting: 61

  Alchemy: 39

  Arithmetic: 14

  Bartering: 9

  Blacksmithing: 16

  Bluffing: 47

  Carpentry: 49

  Cartography (Atrophied): 7

  Cleaning: 49

  Cooking: 44

  Crafting: 87

  Deception: 51

  Disguise (Atrophied): 39

  Drawing: 14

  Driving (Atrophied): 51

  Endurance: 23

  Etiquette (Atrophied): 18

  Event Planning: 29

  Farming: 67

  First Aid: 26

  Fletching: 3

  Household Magic: 21

  Improvisation: 38

  Language (English): 29

  Language (Tacurian): 19

  Leatherworking: 28

  Manipulation: 42

  Marketing (Atrophied): 24

  Masonry: 17

  Networking: 45

  Observe: 67

  Persuasion: 55

  Photography (Atrophied): 30

  Plumbing: 7

  Pottery: 55

  Propaganda: 30

  Public Speaking: 60

  Running: 41

  Sewing: 7

  Singing: 55

  Storytelling: 72

  Tailoring: 17

  Technology (Atrophied): 13

  Videography (Atrophied): 51

  Writing (Atrophied): 51

  Before being reborn in Enora, I dreamed of being an actor. Those dreams never really amounted to anything, but I’d learned all the necessary skills while doing the odd job here or there that I hoped would let me land it big. I’d spent time as a makeup specialist, an advisor, a public speaking coach, a sitcom writer, and even a short gig as a personal trainer.

  When I couldn’t get a job in acting, I tried YouTube. My channel never had more than thirty thousand subscribers. That wasn’t nothing! But not anything amazing, either. I plateaued and there I stayed, to my endless frustration.

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  And then… well.

  Then I died.

  I shuddered and put the memory out of my mind, even as my hand drifted to my throat. That had been a long time ago — over seventeen years and an entire world away. This place was safe. The only dangers here in Tacuria came from the ever war at the rift. I was fine.

  I put my past life out of my mind, and turned my thoughts in a happier direction. My talent should be pretty good, considering all the skills I’d gained. Good enough to get me noticed by the duchess. Maybe even get a noble title. At least it should be enough to give me a better option than to settle down two houses away from where I’d been born.

  “Mera!” came a sudden shout from outside, and I beamed.

  Ilhadira, or Hadra as everyone called her, was my best friend and she’d gotten her talent just last month.

  “In here, Hadra! I’m just trying to get a final few points out of my cooking before tomorrow!” I exclaimed.

  “Careful, or you might get a cooking talent,” she teased from outside.

  I scowled. “Don’t even joke about that!”

  I didn’t want a cooking talent, but unless I had a ridiculous overbalance of points in one particular skill, that wouldn’t be a problem. Talents were usually generalized to a particular subset of skills. Even the lowliest of Common talents was still an ability that allowed the user to be supernaturally effective in… whatever area they had devoted themselves to before getting the talent.

  I had no idea what mine would be but I highly doubted it would be “Cooking Savant” or something like that. My cooking skill was only barely above the average of all of my skills. I’d checked.

  Not that there was anything wrong with a cooking talent. The rank was what really mattered. It just wasn’t what I wanted to spend my life doing. Talents would only pigeon hole a person into a specific profession if that was what they’d always wanted. A customized experience.

  Hadra knew exactly what she had wanted, and now she was the talk of the town. Her talent was “Elite,” making it the highest-ranked talent in all of Pemolar’s Hill, tied only with the Bartender.

  Pemolar’s Hill was somewhat locally famous for its bar and exceptional ale. Elite talents were incredibly rare, but there was one odd exception. In a world where a distant, endless war was constantly claiming the lives of family members, a lot of people liked alcohol. Go figure.

  Of course, if someone claimed their talent was elite, they had to be able to back that up. And Hadra had not lied. The moment she stepped into our house, I dropped my jaw in amazement.

  Exquisite Silken Dress

  Crafted by an Expert Tailor

  She was wearing one of the most gorgeous dresses I’d ever seen in this world. My observe skill triggered automatically when I focused on something and I couldn’t not focus on this.

  Ilhadira Weaver, indeed. A blue gown that would make even my Sunday best back on Earth look like pauper’s clothes flowed down the girl’s body. Decorative stitched flowers had been sewn into the piece, exposing her shoulders, though lacy drapes covered her arms. She wore ivory gloves and a matching white hat that I was sure had been inspired by one of my stories.

  I had the best stories, which made sense. I had an entire other lifetime to draw from. The bartender wasn’t the only person in the village who was locally famous.

  “Hadra! You’ve outdone yourself!” I exclaimed.

  The girl beamed back at me. “I know. It’s not actually for me, of course. Duchess Denarla heard of my talent and commissioned it. She sent a bolt of silk. Silk Mera! I was afraid even to touch it for two nights!”

  “And you didn’t tell me about it until now!?” I prodded.

  “I didn’t want to brag before I’d made anything! Heavens, I’m still afraid she won’t like it!”

  “If she doesn’t like that, she’s insane,” I said. “You’re going to be tailor to the Duchess!”

  “It does look pretty good, doesn’t it?” she said with that little sideways snicker she’d once used when pranking the carpenter. This was it, though. This was her realizing her dreams. She’d gotten the elite talent and now she would go on to be somebody.

  “It’s amazing!” I assured her. “Interesting that you’re wearing it, though. Do you happen to have the same sizes she does?”

  “I haven’t resized it for her yet. Luckily, our sizes aren’t far different, and well… Someone had to try it on before I presented it!”

  “You just wanted to wear it, didn’t you?”

  “Guilty,” she laughed.

  “Your secret is safe with me,” I replied, holding my hand over my heart in a solemn salute.

  We both broke down into giggles.

  “Mera! Do I hear Hadra in there–?!” Mom’s voice called out as she rounded the corner.

  “H-hello, Mrs. Farmer,” Hadra said with a failed attempt at a noble lady’s bearing and an awkward curtsy. “How do you do?”

  Mom’s eyes were as wide as a gold coin. If I thought the dress looked beautiful, even with my memories of shows like Project Runway and the like, that meant the dress might just be a once-in-a-lifetime sight for her.

  “Ilhadira! My heavens!” she squealed. “Is that the Duchess’s dress!?”

  Hadra’s face fell. “You already knew!?”

  “Of course I knew! Your mother tells me everything. And yet…” she trailed off as she stepped into the kitchen, reaching out then hesitating, as if afraid to touch the beautiful fabric. “...and yet somehow I didn’t know at all.”

  “Do you think she’ll like it? I got a whole point in my tailoring skill before I was even half finished, and it still has more work to go! I have a few small stitchings to correct and of course I’ll need to take it in just a tad. The Duchess is slightly thinner than me and–!”

  Mom silenced Hadra with a finger on her lips.

  “She’ll love it,” she said easily tears in her eyes. “I know it's just childish tales, but… heavens, she really will make you a noble! I’m so proud of you, dear!”

  “Hey, what am I, chopped liver?” I called.

  “Chopped Onions. Spoiled ones,” Mom said as she gazed upon Hadra’s dress, not bothering to even glance at me.

  “Betrayal!” I shouted as I fell to the ground, metaphorically destroyed by my cruel mother. The evil woman didn’t so much as take her eyes off the dress. I decided I had to double down on the theatrics. “I have been stabbed in the heart! My own mother! Alas! I am slain! Blegh.”

  Hadra broke first, giggling at my antics as mom tried and failed to keep her calm.

  “Oh, get off the floor! Your clothes will get dirty! And soon, we might not have a tailor who can make you new ones!” Mom scolded me through soft chuckles.

  I popped back up to my feet, feeling happy for Hadra. We were joking, but after seeing the dress, there was a very real possibility the Duchess would ask the girl to move to Denarla.

  Even if she didn’t, she probably would have to go somewhere else. Our little village didn’t need two seamstresses, and it would be strange for her and her mother to compete for business.

  Besides, Hadra could barely stand her mother. She’d marry the town drunk just to escape, and I was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. They loved each other, but every interaction was like oil and water.

  …Maybe sulfur and water.

  I grabbed the peel and pulled the pot of apples off the stove, but Mom frowned at them and told me to put them back. Probably no additional points there. We’d have to cook all night for me to get another cooking point before evening, and frankly, there were easier ways for me to eke out a few more skill points before then.

  “I think I can get a few more points tonight if I go with Hadra. My tailoring is still pretty low, so it should be easier to level,” I said excitedly.

  “As long as you don’t start working on that disgusting… whatever it is again. I won’t have you stinking to high heaven on your Nameday tomorrow.”

  “It’s called concrete, and its going to revolutionize the world!” I insisted.

  “It smells,” she insisted right back.

  I knew I was on the right track, because if I weren’t I wouldn’t have gotten so many points in the Masonry skill. Still, heating limestone had managed to get me what I thought was lime. Adding sand to that had gotten me… something. It was useful but for the life of me I hadn’t figured out how yet. Maybe as a sort of mortar? Or maybe it would work as sealant for my attempts to create a functioning toilet?

  I groaned but grinned as I stepped outside the house and gingerly helped Hadra down the step. She was walking very carefully so as not to damage the fabric and I didn’t blame her for the extra caution.

  “Don’t go to your little lab at all tonight. Instead, we’ll wait up at the pub. Come there when you’re finished trying to cheat your talent,” Mom insisted while she took over cooking the apples.

  “Cheat!? It worked for Hadra!”

  “No, Hadra is just an angel, who was rewarded for putting up with you!” she yelled as we shuffled as fast as the delicate dress would let us move.

  “That might be true!” I called back.

  Mom laughed.

  It might not be the modern world, but for being a boring little farming village, life was pretty good.