Jack watched as Olric rocked back on his heels. The old man seemed to really consider his impossible situation.

  “Getting you to level 10 is the tricky bit, now ain’t it?” Olric eventually said. “It doesn’t cost that much EXP, but getting any EXP right now is the real kick to the shins.” The farmer let out a sharp breath. “Ya can’t go into the shroud safely just yet, so killin’ more orcs or goblins ain’t in the bones for you just yet. And knocking out that unique quest is out of the question.”

  “What about the sidequests you mentioned earlier?” Jack asked.

  “Did I? Well, it’s a dumb idea.”

  “Why?” Jask insisted.

  Back on Earth, he’d been a bit of a freak amongst his gamer friends. He loved to 100% complete games before moving on, even if it meant trudging through mind-numbing tasks and sidequests while fully decked out in end-game gear. He actually found it funnier that way. There was something so hilarious to him about being an effective demigod in a game and being asked by some random farmer to go and pick six wildflowers for his kid’s birthday.

  Plus, if it meant getting EXP here on Aethros and leveling up enough to unlock a decent class, then it would be worth any amount of drudgery.

  “It just ain’t done,” Olric answered. “Once you reach level 10, you get a class. But with that comes two options in our world. Death, or conscription. Now, a little town like Thistlebrush might wait a little before enforcing either, but you stand out too much, you’ll get hunted. The strong here will see you as a threat and take that hardearned EXP from you, or, they’ll remold you into one of them. But seeing as you’re the Banisher, I seriously suggest avoiding that second part.”

  “That’s not good enough,” Jack retorted. “Screw the risks. My life is on the line here, man. I can’t just sit about, slowly accruing EXP over months and years. I’ve got to complete this stupid quest and get back home to my–”

  His mind raced over all that he’d left behind. He didn’t care for his job or the few coworkers he drank with on Fridays. But his sister… He had to get back for her. If nothing else, he needed to make sure she was okay. He couldn’t leave her with Evan. Not again.

  A panic older than most of his scars started to thrum inside his mind, and he met Olric’s wary gaze.

  “I just need to get back, okay?” he said finally.

  “I believe ya, kid. But sidequests aren’t just random EXP boosts after helpin’ someone out.” Olric rolled out his neck and started to walk around the large room. “Here’s a lesson about Aethros. The system ain’t some malevolent force conjurin’ conflicts this way and that. You don’t just wake up and discover you’re tied to a sidequest. It happens when you either try and fail or simply cannot accomplish a task without help. It can be anything, but it’s usually some sort of conflict that goes beyond something relational. And that’s a whole other can of kraken right there—why the system doesn’t qualify severe relational conflict as something worthy of outside help, but I’m getting away from my point.”

  Olric gathered up a strange-looking rock. It vaguely resembled a wand, if a wand were no longer than three inches. It had a dark charcoal tip at one end. He pressed something on the base’s smooth surface, and the dark end lit up like a freshly stoked fire, burning a bright orange. He opened a lantern and lit it.

  The farmer continued to speak as he went around and lit the other hanging lamps.

  “The point is, sidequests arise when folks can’t fix it themselves after a certain amount of time. Usually, a week is the rule of thumb. And the longer the sidequest goes unresolved, the higher its difficulty rating and the better the rewards. The idea, so far as most people can tell, is that the system wanted to incentivize us to help each other. To resolve our conflicts and grow stronger through effort.” He said the last word like it tasted bitter. “A meritocracy, plain and simple. There’s an issue, though. Can you spot it?”

  Jack considered the question. He went over everything he’d seen since arriving in Aethros. The war. The poverty. The level disparity between the knights and commoners. The militaristic laws.

  The pain. The fear.

  “People don’t help each other because it implies that they need the help, and because things are tough enough without adding other people into the mix. People who might seek rewards beyond what the system is offering,” Jack guessed. “And with levels rising, they might run the risk of getting EXP too, making them stand out as well. For those that don’t want to die or get conscripted, they can’t risk getting wrapped up in a sidequest.”

  “That’s a part of it, sure, but that’s not the real issue,” Olric replied, lighting the final lantern and illuminating the kitchen. He moved to put the kettle over the fire. “The real issue isn’t that people are afraid of the stigma that a sidequest might create. It’s that due to the level gap between civvies and the knights—and nobles, for that matter—practically every commoner has a sidequest. There aren’t too few to make it worthwhile. It’s that there are too many. And that number only grows so long as people aren’t allowed to fight their own damned fights. Sidequests nowadays are riddled with risks, making it incredibly difficult to reach level 10 without conscription or death.”

  It made a certain, horrible, sort of sense.

  If the vast majority of the population were low-level, that meant that fewer people had classes. That meant fewer specializations, and thus fewer experts and professionals to deal with complex issues. Worse, it meant that they had lower stats and so couldn’t just barrel their way through stuff, especially stuff that could kill or maim them.

  And if no one could risk getting a high enough level lest they get sent off to the Red Knight’s brainwash camp, or whatever it was, then people would just have to survive with as low a level as they could manage.

  It wasn’t that people didn’t want to do sidequests. It’s that they couldn’t survive the consequences if they did.

  This put his brief escapade through the Titanhold slums into a whole new light. He hadn’t unlocked Inspect yet, but he would bet everything he owned that Myrtle had a high level and a really good class to boot. But for most that they had passed? If they had no class, that meant no work, and thus the cycle of poverty continued.

  Back on Earth, he’d been in that cycle for the longest time—searching for a job, only to be either underqualified by the impossible standards most businesses held for entry-level positions, or simply didn’t know the right people to get him in. It always bugged him. At least here, people had the chance to work their way out of their work slumps by doing some sidequests…

  Or killing stuff.

  A horrible thought struck him.

  How much EXP did other humans give?

  The very notion made him feel sick, but he knew the moment he thought it that they would give a considerable amount. In games, they were known as PKers, or Player Killers. Most games that had multiplayer allowed it, but it usually came with negative connotations and a ton of unique rewards if you managed to survive long enough.

  Still…

  Here on Aethros, it incentivized violence amongst the poor and desperate, and Jack knew from hard experience just how terrible a combination those two things were. Add in genuine rewards from killing your fellow humans…

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Damn,” Jack whispered, leaning back against the nearby wall.

  “Now you see the bigger picture,” Olric replied, seeming to grasp that Jack was thinking far beyond what he’d said.

  “Okay, I can fix this,” Jack said, and he began to pace a long aisle through the lodge. “I can be subtle about it, but I really need to hit level 10 as quickly as possible, so I’ll start my sidequesting in the slums so that fewer blee–knights watch my every move. I’ll run the risk of getting spotted by the gangs there, but I’ll take low-level gangs over the Miss I’m-Watching-You right now.”

  “Don’t be too quick to discount the danger of the gangs out in the Titanhold ruins. Get too high level, and it won’t matter how much goodwill you sow. They’ll harvest your EXP faster than you can call on Ardent.”

  “Noted. And who is this Ardent guy?” Jack wondered, slowing in his pace to glance over at Olric.

  The man laughed quietly. “Who’s Ardent? Shit… Well, he’s everything to us, but nothing to most people nowadays. Least, he was something, but now with the System and the apocalypse staring down at us every damned day, it’s tough to keep our sights on what’s right.”

  Olric smiled and shook his head. “That wasn’t helpful at all, was it? Well,” he said, tucking both his thumbs inside his belt. “He’s our God. Least, he was. Been a while since I saw anyone take care of the church folk that weren’t truthbinders or their ilk. Legend has it Ardent used to roam around Aethros, sharing his flame, knowledge, and kindness with all who’d listen. He taught the earliest Aethrians how to wield that flame, and with it, bring light to all.”

  “Does he have any other names?” Jack asked, imagining a certain TV host with a poison-infested face.

  “Sure. Dozens, by my guess. I don’t know half of them, but I know he’s Ardent, God, The Flamebringer, Ardent the Forger, Latholin, and some more. Not to be confused with the Kie god, Arkosus. He’s our name for the system, but most think the system has a consciousness, on account of the class selection and all.”

  While Olric gave his explanation, his hands never stopped moving. He grabbed a few herbs illuminated by the soft orange glow of the lanterns. He efficiently mixed them in his mortar and pestle, then added the dry substance to a small tankard that had a long metal straw sticking out of it. It vaguely resembled a pipe, but the pit where the dried leaves were to go was too big for a proper pipe.

  Any other illusions that this was a pipe were dispelled a moment later when Olric set the tiny tankard down, grabbed the steaming kettle, and then poured a small amount of water into it. An earthy, bitter, yet tantalizing aroma spread through the home within seconds, and Jack was walking closer before he knew what was happening.

  All of Jack’s questions drifted away as he smelled that strange concoction. He didn’t think it was magical, just that it smelled almost exactly like coffee.

  His stomach gurgled, and he resisted the urge to moan.

  How had he not noticed just how egregiously hungry he was?

  Olric laughed when he heard Jack’s stomach. “Alright, hold your horses. I’ll put on some food.” He gestured down at the small cup rimmed with steel. “Know how to ember?”

  “How to remember? What is that supposed to mean?” Jack inquired, still mostly entranced with the drink.

  God, it smelled delicious. Bitter, but swimming with subtle hints of a dozen other flavors.

  “Em–ber,” Olric enunciated. He placed his hand over the steaming cup. “Embering is as old as Aethros, so ya best learn it and learn it right. If you walked into Thistlebrush and insulted a man’s wife, he might punch you and end it there.” The farmer's tone grew deadly serious. “But if you mess up embering, the same man will probably shank you in the back, and feel justified doin’ it.”

  “What is ‘embering’, then? This just looks like fancy tea. Don’t get me wrong, it smells amazing, but why would someone stab me just for drinking tea?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t have time to give you centuries of history about embering, kid! Just know it’s important. But here are the general rules.” He gestured at the straw. “This is the emberdraw. NEVER MOVE IT.”

  He paused, waiting for his command to sink in.

  Jack raised his hands, wincing slightly at the reminder of his lost digit. “Geez, okay! Don’t move the straw. Got it.”

  “Emberdraw,” Olric automatically corrected. “Seriously, kid, do you want to die?”

  “I’m not a kid,” Jack responded a little testily.

  “Then pay attention. The emberdraw has a filter on one end, and thin breaks near the top to let some of the steam and aroma out while ya drink. Once the host—which is me in this case—sets the emberdraw and pours the first glass, it is never to be moved ever. If you’re handed the ember, you drink until everyone and their grandmother can hear you slurp. It’s a sign you’re done. You can either tap the table or something else obvious twice to get a refill, or make eye contact with another person and nod to see if they want it next.”

  Olric glared at Jack.

  “But this is where things get tricky, but way more important. Embering is about community. It’s a shared experience most folks do nightly. It stimulates the mind, eases the body, and impassions the soul. I like to brew my own special blend, but the core ingredient is ashleaf. It’s the same stuff they use in that damned concoction that dreamers can’t get enough of. In small doses, and diluted through water, it merely enhances a person. Never eat or drink a concentrated amount of ashleaf, unless you really like hallucinating.”

  Jack shrugged noncommittally, which apparently was not the right thing to do.

  “No!” the old man shouted. “If I ever, ever, catch you with the glazed expression of a dreamer, I don’t care if you’re Ardent himself. There will be no bed for you here, is that understood?”

  Jack hadn’t asked explicitly, but despite the intensity of the situation, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of warmth at Olric’s words.

  “I… have a bed here for me? I mean, if that’s okay with–” Jack answered.

  “Hell, kid! That’s what you took from all that?!”

  The mechanic’s stomach grumbled again. Loudly.

  Most of the anger diffused from the farmer’s expression, and he lifted his hand off the cup. “Right. Hard to think straight on an empty stomach. Besides, we’ve chatted long enough about all this serious stuff. Time we lightened the mood. Now, as my guest and new farmhand, I’ll let you take the first draw.”

  He slid the tankard over the smooth lacquered surface of the kitchen counter to Jack, who deftly caught it with his right hand. He nearly moved the straw—the emberdraw, he reminded himself—out of habit, but stopped himself just in time.

  Cautiously, he lifted the cup and took a sip.

  The flavor slammed into him like a wrecking ball with an attitude. Bitterness like charcoal was quickly replaced by the earthy tones of coffee, only to be followed up by the faintest aftertaste of something between honeysuckle and honey.

  He coughed, spilling a bit of the steaming liquid across his knuckles. He cursed, but managed to keep hold of it.

  Olric laughed. “Yep! I dropped my first embercup, so don’t sweat it. But it’ll grow on ya. Take my word for it and try it again before your mind has a chance to come up with the wrong assumptions about the world’s best drink.”

  Jack did.

  The same flavors swept across his mouth and nostrils like intertwined tsunamis. But this time, the sweet aftertaste was stronger, as well as the warmth that spread through his limbs and out into his extremities.

  He took another sip. Then another. After five, he heard his own slurp, and reluctantly set the drink back on the counter that separated him and the farmer. Thinking quickly, he tapped two fingers twice on the table, and Olric’s smile was as bright and warm as the drink was beginning to make him feel.

  There were a variety of stools that functioned as bar seating by the counter, so Jack took one and settled in. Olric poured more boiling water into the embercup and slid it back over to Jack. This time, he didn’t even lift it. He merely leaned forward and drank it in a few, deep gulps.

  The warmth it generated was unmistakable now. He felt oddly energized, yet relaxed. His anxiety subsided, leaving him room to think. Gingerly, he moved the cup back to Olric, who took it and poured his own handsome portion. Then, before he could stop himself, he crossed his arms over the wooden counter and rested his forehead between them.

  What am I doing? Jack wondered. What is even going on?

  There was so much. So much to do. To think about. To fear. To worry about. To fix.

  How am I going to get out of this place?

  It felt like the entire planet was rivaling him, and that was just him existing, much less the infernal quest he had to do.

  A part of him wanted to wallow, to succumb to the anxiety and temptation of passivity. He wanted to forget. He craved the numbness he’d once called home for so many years back on Earth.

  But if I give up, I’ll never see Janie again.

  Jack’s mind continued to wander through his options, potential plans, and a hundred other errant thoughts, each more distant than the last. He couldn’t recall when he’d fallen asleep, resting there as he was on Olric’s dark maple counter.

  All he knew was that when he woke up the next morning, he was in a bed with a thick wool blanket pulled up past his shoulders.