"Hey, kiddo!" yelled Dad, an inch away from my ear.

  I responded in what I considered to be a perfectly appropriate way when being woken up in such a manner, which was to punch my awakener in the face.

  "Ouch," I commented, massaging my bruised hand. Of course, Dad hadn't even flinched. "Stats are unfair."

  Dad grinned. "Well, if only you'd got out of bed the first two times I called you, perhaps I wouldn't need to resort to such boorish methods. Anyway, as of today, you'll have Stats of your own."

  I blinked as I jolted from mostly-asleep to fully-awake in an instant. Right. Today was the day one of the baron's carriages would visit our village, collect everyone who had turned sixteen over the past year, and take them to the temple to unlock their Systems.

  At last! I'd turned sixteen months ago!

  Suddenly feeling rather more enthusiastic about being conscious, I leapt out of bed, ran downstairs and grabbed a chunk of black bread, soaking it in some water until it became soft enough to chew.

  Dad, of course, just ate it as it was. Stats did nothing to improve the taste, but they certainly solved the problems caused by texture. Auntie Jean next door had somehow managed to get her hands on a [Cooking] skill crystal, for which I was eternally jealous. Yes, she'd been nice enough to make me a small birthday cake for my sixteenth birthday, but that just let me know what we were missing out on by not having anyone with [Cooking] in our household, starting with bread that Boris, the village blacksmith, wouldn't be able to use as an anvil.

  "Someone's excited," observed Mum.

  "You'd never have guessed from how hard he was to wake up," unnecessarily added Dad.

  "Hey!" I complained.

  "You remember what you need to do?" asked Mum, turning from the sink to flash me a smile.

  "Yes, Mum," I sighed, having had the instructions repeated a hundred times already over the past week. "Be polite to everyone, follow the instructions from the adults, remember that after unlocking I'm nowhere near as strong as I feel, and don't complain about the carriage making my bum sore even if it does. If you're that worried I'll screw up, why don't you come with me?"

  "I would if I could," she sighed. "Not because I'm worried you'll do anything wrong. I'd just like to see my only son's System unlock ceremony. Unfortunately, guests aren't allowed."

  "Why not?"

  "Not enough space on the carriage," answered Dad, frowning. "Anyway, you'll be back in a jiffy. They'll have dozens of kids to get through from all over the canton, so they'll want to be efficient. You basically just need to touch a big sparkly stone, then one of the baron's men will give you your first skill crystal to use, and you're done."

  "Have you been to the bathroom?" asked Mum. "They're not going to stop for you once they get moving."

  "... Of course not," I said. "I've literally only just woken up."

  "Aww, he used 'literally' correctly, and he doesn't even have mental Stats yet," grinned Dad, wiping a faux tear from his eye.

  I blew him a raspberry, then rushed to the bathroom, still chewing my final mouthful of bread.

  Perhaps calling it a 'bathroom' was an exaggeration, given that it didn't actually contain a bath, but it was certainly a room and it had a hole in the floor into which I could empty my bladder, so it served my purposes. It was just a shame about the smell.

  Another few minutes were sufficient to change into my day-clothes—hardly worn or stained at all, because Mum had splashed out on a nearly new tunic ready for the occasion—and I was ready.

  "I'll stay with him until the carriage arrives," said Mum to Dad. "You can make a start on today's work."

  "So I don't even get to see him off..." grumbled Dad. Presumably the earlier frown was because he wanted to watch the ceremony, too.

  "You can if you want to, but you're the one who'll be complaining later when you need to work an extra hour in the fields and are late to dinner."

  "... I'll get going," he said, leaving our hut to begin his day's work.

  "And we should get going too," said Mum, glancing at the sun out of an open window. "The carriage shouldn't arrive for another half hour, but we don't want to keep them waiting."

  The pair of us left our hut and made our way to the village centre, which was just a posh way of saying the crossroads, given that the village only really had two streets. The other pair of kids who'd turned sixteen over the past year were already waiting, watched over by one parent each.

  "Robin!" called one, waving.

  "Hey Simon!" I called back. "Excited?"

  "Meh, not really," answered my best friend. Not that there was a huge choice—the village wasn't big enough to be picky about friends, and John, the only other boy our age, was certainly not best friend material.

  "You're not?"

  "Well, we have to start work tomorrow, don't we? Like, proper work."

  "Yes, but don't you want to help out your family?"

  "Of course. I just wish there was a way of helping out that didn't involve working."

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  His dad, standing behind him, grinned. "If you don't work, you won't earn experience, and if you don't earn experience, you won't level up. The sooner you max out [Expert Farming], the sooner you can start spending skill points on hobbies."

  "Bah. There should be a way of levelling up that doesn't involve working, too."

  "There is, it's just that serfs like you won't get to use it," smirked John.

  Me and Simon ignored him.

  "Sounds like the carriage is arriving," commented Mum.

  "Really? I can't hear anything."

  Mum just grinned and pointed down one of the streets. Sure enough, a few seconds later, a horse-drawn cart rounded the corner. No-one had ever mentioned a Stat that improved hearing, but given the way they tended to improve everything, it wouldn't surprise me if one had a small effect.

  "Mum, that's not a carriage," I pointed out. "Carriages have roofs."

  "Close enough. It's not as if it's raining."

  The cart stopped at the crossroads, a couple of adults in the front—one of whom was holding the horse's reins—and a couple more at the back, all in leather armour. There were already half a dozen children my age seated in it, presumably picked up from other villages in the canton, and there was still space for half a dozen more. It was big enough that I felt slightly sorry for the horse pulling it alone.

  Then again, the driver probably had some sort of [Driving] skill that boosted the horse.

  "In you get, kids," called one of the adults at the rear, opening a little gate to let us climb in.

  "See you later," said Mum. "And remember; behave yourself."

  I nodded politely, the message having been repeated often enough over the past few days that I was in no danger of forgetting even though she'd never explained what happened to children who didn't behave.

  Then again, with John with us, perhaps I'd find out.

  "Now, you must be on your best behaviour," his mother said to him, presumably of the same opinion as me. "Whatever our family's status in this village, remember that it's nothing compared to every adult you will meet today."

  "Yes, Mother," sighed the slightly chubby child.

  The three of us took our seats, the guy who'd opened the back closed it again, and we were off. The cart hadn't even been stopped for two minutes.

  The other children didn't speak, being far too wrapped up in their nerves. Even John looked a little sheepish as our little village shrunk to a dot behind us, cutting him off from any familial support.

  All four of the adults were men, and now that I had a better view of them, I could see that all were carrying weapons. A couple had swords at their waists, one had a couple of daggers, and the last a gnarly branch of wood.

  "Excuse me, are you the baron's knights?" I asked.

  The two at the back—the pair that had heard my question—snorted with laughter.

  "Of course not, idiot..." muttered John under his breath.

  "No, we aren't knights. We're the adventuring party 'Brown Wolf'," said one of them. "Why? Do you dream of becoming a knight?"

  "Don't ask the poor kid that," said the other.

  The first one shrugged. "It could happen. The local baron is well known for his meritocratic approach to management."

  "True, but there's not much chance to stand out when your only Skill is [Farming]."

  "Bah. Slay a few slimes, earn some extra experience, gain a level or two over what's expected and no-one will complain if someone spends the extra points on a combat skill. Use them, slay something bigger, gain more levels, and they could be out of serfdom in no time."

  "In no time? No time, he says," huffed the second adventurer. "You have a really strange definition of 'no time', and besides, how is someone in a farming village supposed to get their hands on a combat skill crystal?"

  "Where there's a will, there's a way," answered the first speaker. "That beginner dungeon that all the local [Farming] skill crystals come from is around here, isn't it? It's bound to drop other skill crystals on occasion. Anyway, we're getting ahead of ourselves. My name's Grant, and this pessimist sitting next to me is Joe. The two up front are Gavin and Barry. We're a party of four C-rank adventurers, hired to escort you to Greenhold and back, and keep you all safe."

  "I'm Robin. Nice to meet you," I answered, remembering my mum's badgering and being as polite as I could before asking my next question. "Greenhold?"

  John scoffed.

  As ever, I ignored him. Mostly. "From context, I assume that's the name of the canton's main settlement, but I should probably check."

  I didn't want them to think I was completely ignorant.

  "Yes, it is," answered Grant.

  "Yeah, I don't think anyone here will be buying their way out of serfdom," said Joe, apparently unimpressed by me not knowing the name of the local town. Why would I, though? To us, it was just 'the town'. It wasn't as if there were any other towns in the canton to mix it up with. Hmm... By that logic, did our village have a name, too? People from the town wouldn't call it 'the village', because that would be ambiguous. "Not that it's a bad life, for those that like peace and routine, but I don't think it would be for me."

  "Well, I for one have no intention of spending my life slaving away while someone else gets all the benefits of my hard work," muttered John, before suddenly jerking and blushing as he realised he'd spoken out loud.

  The other kids stared at him. Those from the other villages showed something approaching admiration.

  "Quiet in the back," called Gavin from the driver's seat.

  For a moment, I thought we were being scolded for talking, but then I noticed Grant and Joe tense up. Both stared out of the cart in opposite directions, suddenly vigilant.

  "Left and forward, small signal," said Gavin, and Grant snapped around to stare in the indicated direction while Joe kept a watchful eye on the landscape opposite.

  "I see it," said Grant. "Bah, it's only a slime."

  "I did say it was a small signal," said Gavin.

  "True, but it could at least have been a kobold or something. Just ignore it; it's not fast enough to catch up with us. If it's still there on the way back, we can have the kids kill it."

  "... We're supposed to be protecting them, not feeding them to slimes," said Joe reproachfully.

  "It's a slime."

  "Yes, you mentioned. And yes, a level one farmer could probably kill one, but I'd rather not tempt fate."

  We trundled passed it, and sure enough, the little thing didn't stand a chance of catching us. It was a just a ball of transparent green goo, no bigger than my head, rolling along at something under my walking pace. An opaque spherical stone bobbed around in its centre, spinning around independently of the movement of the goo. The way it kept swivelling and stopping gave the impression it was looking around. It was kinda cute, really, and not at all threatening.

  The pair of adventurers continued their argument until the slime was out of sight, although I got the impression that neither of them were particularly serious. It seemed more like a way to kill time until the town of Greenhold appeared in front of us, with us not having encountered any further monsters on the journey.

  Really, the fact that we'd encountered even a single slime was surprising. I'd be the first to admit I hadn't had the best education in the world, but even I knew that our canton was generally considered 'safe', and that the canton's roads were constantly patrolled to keep them clear of the small amount of monstrous life that did live in the area.

  Unlike our village, the town was surrounded by walls, and there was a small queue to get in through the gate. A few more carts held children, probably here for the same reason as us, but most seemed to be carrying food, delivering produce to the canton's capital. It wasn't harvest season for anything our village grew—hence our family's dependence on rock-solid bread—but other villages on different soil grew other crops, or were more focused on livestock.

  We were let in quickly, with the driver only needing to flash a badge of some sort, and then we found ourselves trundling up a much wider street than the pair in our village. Not to mention that it was properly paved. The houses were bigger, too, and were built from brick rather than the wooden planks of our huts. The only bricks we had in the village were what the blacksmith's kiln had been built from. If not for that, I might not even have known what they were.

  How much money did someone need to live in a brick house?