A few days had passed since Larkin’s resolution and he hadn’t saved anyone yet. Jorg had been obviously happy with his acceptance of the offer to join the Guild but had insisted first on ‘seeing what you can do’.

  Though I still think he just wants to show off what he can do.

  Which, despite his grousing, Larkin had to admit was a lot. Even if he didn’t necessarily care for the Dwarf’s hands-on method of instruction. Right now the Shieldbearer was showing how much he knew about swinging his favoured weapon around.

  “Stop trying to parry the axe.” Jorg snapped, his words almost as hard as the blunted head of the axe that had just glanced off Larkin’s shoulder.

  “You’re not holding one of those fancy pigstickers where those tricks might work.” The Dwarf said. “Dodge, block, or intercept - anything fancier than that will just get you cut.”

  Larkin gave out a pained grunt as he raised his own weapon.

  “Good.” Jorg said approvingly. “Again.”

  The Dwarf stepped forward and Larkin tried to keep him at a distance as he weighed his options.

  They were each carrying identically long axes in both hands. Larkin had a definite advantage in height and reach, but the Dwarf was proving all too comfortable.

  Moving as quickly as he could, Larkin stepped forward and swung the axe in an arc towards Jorg’s head. Only for the dwarf to slip to one side and send a horizontal counter that had Larkin hustling awkwardly backward to avoid it.

  “That the best you got, kid?” Jorg taunted, teeth flashing through his beard.

  Larkin’s mouth twitched but he stopped himself from saying anything. It had only been a couple of days under Jorg’s ‘care’ but he’d already been given clear lessons as to why people didn’t bother with chatter in real fights.

  Apart from when they’re speaking to idiots who get themselves flustered at the words.

  Ignoring that flash of painful memory, he cautiously approached the Shieldbearer - and how the hell was he so hard to hit when he wasn’t even carrying a shield?

  He took a swing, but it was a feint meant to allow him to get closer to make a more powerful blow. Except Jorg mostly ignored the first attack, swaying backwards just enough to avoid the head of the axe and then advancing on Larkin before he could properly launch his real attack.

  “Hah!” The Dwarf cried as the long haft of his axe caught the downward swing of Larkin’s, holding it and then, with a powerful bellow, spinning the whole thing out of the human’s hands.

  Jorg guffawed as Larkin stared down at him, as the thump of his weapon landing on the ground behind them rang out.

  “Y’know kid, long ago I was told that the first thing a teacher needs to know about their pupils is what they don’t know.” The Shieldbearer commented. “So I can guess we can add axe fighting to footwork, dueling, and brawling.”

  Larkin scowled but that only set the Dwarf off into another round of laughter.

  “My Class knows all that.” He reminded Jorg. “But you don’t want me to listen to it.”

  He’d actually been pretty grateful for that, given his experience of that feeling when the Class took over. Though it did make this long sparring session even more painful.

  “I didn’t say that you can’t listen to it, kid.” The Shieldbearer said. “I said that you shouldn’t let it take over you.”

  Jorg lowered his axe, resting the long haft against the ground as he stared up at Larkin with a gimlet-eyed stare.

  “Classes are a tricky thing.” He told Larkin. “They’re powerful, that’s for certain. But it’s like anything else, it gets better when you practice with it.”

  The Dwarf gestured at the fallen axe.

  “When you actually know how to use that - and I mean you, not the Class - then you’ll be able to more than hold your own against a Fighter with higher levels that just relies on their Class instincts.”

  Larkin nodded slowly, though wished that he could just bloody learn that already.

  “So long as we keep at it, you’ll be able to punch above your Level quite consistently.” The Dwarf assured him. “After a few hundred spars you’ll have the experience of how a fight flows. You might even get to the point where you can let the enemy see what they want to, so they don’t see your actual plan."

  The Shieldbearer chuckled.

  “Maybe that should be a few thousand spars?” He suggested, still laughing. “But you’ll get better results than just mindlessly focusing on levels.”

  Larkin nodded, though tilted his head to one side.

  “Are there many Classbearers that do that, then?” He asked. “Not practice like this but just focus on levelling?”

  The Shieldbearer gave a grunt, sounding exasperated.

  “Aye.” He said, sourly. “It’s become the norm amongst the younglings in the central Guild branch over in Haugar. Due to the teachings of our esteemed Grandmaster.”

  The Dwarf’s lips twisted even as he shook his head.

  “But I was always taught that relying on your Class instincts like that was a crutch.” He added. “And I’d say it’s been demonstrated over the recent decades. Apart from Rosalie herself, none of her followers have gained their Capstone Skill.”

  Larkin raised an eyebrow.

  “Capstone Skills?” He asked. That was a new one.

  Jorg grinned.

  “Captstone Skill.” He corrected, emphasising the singular. “It’s something you get when you reach Level Fifty. Like I’ve told you already; Classbearers get a Skill at every multiple of ten.”

  Larkin nodded impatiently.

  “Yeah, I get that.” He assured the Dwarf. “But what makes Level Fifty so special then?”

  He got an explosive burst of laughter for that.

  I seem to have that effect, he thought sourly.

  “Because of a number of reasons.” Jorg finally told him once he got his amusement out of the way. “It’s the last level that gets a Skill for one; which won’t matter too much to most Classbearers as they can only dream of reaching Level Fifty anyway. But also, that Skill is a huge improvement on the ones before it.”

  Larkin scratched the back of his head as he thought about that.

  “Do you have a Capstone Skill?” He finally asked, somewhat tentatively.

  And got an enigmatic smile from the Dwarf, and then a single nod.

  “Sure do.” Jorg told him. “It’s probably because I do that Rosalie only exiled me out here to Gavlim rather than banish me from the guild altogether.”

  Larkin grimaced: he really hadn’t wanted to get into the obvious politics here, but the Shieldbearer seemed determined to direct things that way.

  “What does the Guildmaster have against you?” He asked.

  Apart from your drunkenness, he added sourly to himself.

  Jorg gave a shrug, somewhat underwhelming after he’d steered the conversation this way.

  “I was close with her predecessor.” He said. “And she probably guessed that I wouldn’t be a fan of how she approaches things.”

  There was so much unsaid in the Dwarf’s words that Larkin guessed Jorg could write a whole book about it. But he decided to ignore that obvious personality clash and changed the topic.

  “So… do levels not really matter that much, then?”

  The Dwarf shook his head.

  “Levels certainly play a big factor.” The Shieldbearer admitted. “I’ve been trying to limit myself to your pace in these spars, but higher levels mean extra strength, speed, and endurance.”

  “For martial Classes, anyway.” Jorg added. “The squishy Classes progress in other ways.”

  Larkin opened his mouth, but the Dwarf held up a hand.

  “Levels also give Skills and Perks.” Jorg said. “But even that isn’t the only thing. Classes and Skills are certainly important, but it’s not the only thing that matters in a fight between Classbearers.”

  The Dwarf rested his axe across his broad shoulders, twisting his torso with a crack of muscles.

  “There’s at least a couple more factors.” He explained. “One is pretty hard to even know for sure, but basically is how the fighting Classbearer’s capabilities mesh.”

  “Maybe there’s a great Archer, for example.” Jorg said. “Normally you’d favour them against a regular Fighter unless the latter has the element of surprise. But if the Fighter has some Skill that allows them to dodge arrows then he’d be able to turn the tables on the Archer pretty easily.”

  Larkin gave a slow nod at the Dwarf’s words. He could imagine how the Archer might get pretty nerfed in that situation. But then he frowned.

  “Wouldn’t the Archer know that’s a possibility then?” He asked. “So would he just not attack Fighters on his own unless he knows for sure?”

  Jorg smiled, seemingly pleased that Larkin was challenging what he was saying.

  “He might.” He admitted. “But it’s not always possible to avoid a fight.”

  The Dwarf shrugged.

  “Or maybe he learns a Skill that allows him to avoid the Fighter somehow - to keep him at a distance where he can keep constantly popping away at him. The point is, the makeup of each Classbearer can have a huge bearing on the outcome of the fight.”

  “Which is one of the reasons that experienced Classbearers hesitate before engaging an unknown peer.” The Dwarf continued. “I’d suggest you try to replicate that approach, but I dimly recall how Younglings are.”

  Jorg grunted, eyes going over Larkin’s shoulder.

  “Usually it’s a pretty academic question though.” He added. “Classbearers tend not to travel on their own anyway. Largely to avoid such situations.”

  He raised his voice.

  “What’s the situation, Gascon?”

  Larkin turned around. He and the Shieldbearer had been sparring in the private salle at the back of the Guild; an enclosed space that kept out casual gawkers - much to his relief given the one-sided results of the last few days.

  But now the secretary of the branch was standing by the doorway.

  “We’ve just had a runner come in, Jorg.” He said. “Captain Davort and the guard have returned. Cezar and Jasset with them.”

  The Dwarf made a pleased noise.

  “Good. I was starting to think that Jasset got herself lost in the woods.”

  He glanced back at Gascon.

  “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll finish up here and be over shortly.”

  The secretary nodded, giving Larkin a nod and a smile before he left. Larkin had noticed that the man, not a Classbearer himself, seemed almost universally cheerful. Jorg then headed over to the side of the room where the various training weapons were stored in racks.

  “What’s the last thing?” Larkin asked as he went over to pick up his axe that had been flung to the ground. “The thing that matters as much as Classes, Skills, Levels, and the makeup between the fighters?”

  The Shieldbearer grunted as he shot him an amused look.

  “Probably the thing that’s most likely to be overlooked.” Jorg replied. “And not just by younglings, either.”

  The Dwarf gave a pointed glance over at the rack of training weapons.

  “It’s experience, lad.” He said. “Actually using our Skills in a real situation. Taking the knowledge and instincts of our Class and making them ours.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Larkin thought about that as they started leaving the salle.

  “But you said that Classes don’t level up unless there’s real jeopardy.” He pointed out.

  It had been one of the first things that the Dwarf had told him. And despite the intense drilling over the last few days Larkin hadn’t gained a single level, so figured it was legit.

  “That’s kind of my point.” Jorg grunted. “Levels and experience are very different things. Without knowing how to use them it doesn’t really matter how many Skills you have. I know one Classbearer who, with a single Skill that he was intimately familiar with, slew a dozen Classbearers that had come to kill him.”

  The Dwarf glanced up at Larkin.

  “You don’t have any real chance of winning an axe fight against me anytime soon.” He said. “But with a bit more training you might have a chance against someone your own level - even if they have Axe Mastery.”

  The Shieldbearer’s mouth twisted.

  “Especially if you manage to avoid falling into a Class Fugue.”

  That was what Jorg had called the state Larkin got in when his Fighter Class took over. That had happened near the end of the first day, when Larkin had let his frustrations get the better of him.

  At least my Class is less keen to take over now, he thought ruefully.

  The beatdown that the Shieldbearer had given Larkin had been pretty epic. A fact he was willing to accept now that some time has passed.

  The pair of them went through the small room that was effectively the connecting space between the various different parts of the guild building. Gascon was standing by the front door of the Guildhouse and there was the sound of some sort of commotion coming from the other side. A tumult of people talking, all sounding happy not to have to be walking - and possibly fighting monsters - anymore.

  “Those half-trained tin-tins.” Jorg muttered, voice exasperated, as he walked over to join Gascon.

  And it was indeed the Gavlim guard that were making most of the noise, though a fair amount was also being made by the crowd that had gathered. Some were cheering the guard while others scanned their ranks looking for friends and family.

  But most were just gaping at what was being carried on the back of the various wagons that had been with the guard.

  And what a pretty sight it is, too.

  The corpses of the Firestinger Hive looked smaller than they had in life, but their sheer numbers added up. Most of the wagons groaned under the weight of the flying monsters, interposed with bodies of the Hive Moles. They lay so thick that they seemed even heavier than the first three wagons - which held far more impressive sights; the Queen and her three Enforcers.

  The two smaller Enforcers that Larkin and Jasset had killed shared a wagon. The next largest was the far bigger one that Jorg had killed, while the body of the Queen was given pride of place.

  “That’s huge.” Larkin breathed as he caught sight of the thing.

  He’d thought the Enforcers were big, and they’d certainly been impressively muscled and scared. But the Queen was about half again as large as the biggest - though a lot of that seemed to be fairly soft, fatty tissue. Her insectoid head was locked in a death grimace.

  “That’s still early in her growth, kid.” Jorg told him. “She’d have doubled in size, at least, if we’d given her time.”

  “The Queens never seem to stop growing.” The Dwarf continued. “Least as far as we knew in the Axehearth. But then it’s hard to be certain for the bigger colonies ‘cos the only non-monsters that see her are its food.”

  While Larkin struggled to digest that, the other two adventures approached. And Larkin followed Jorg and Gascon as they stepped out of the guild building to meet them.

  “Branch Head.” Gascon said with a smile and a half bow. “Congratulations on another hunt.”

  Cezar snorted in response to that. The Ranger looked like she was perfectly capable of going back on the road for another few hundred miles - in stark contrast to the staggering guard around them.

  “It’s Jasset here who did the work.” She said, nodding to the girl beside her. “She didn’t need any help from me.”

  Jasset grinned at the praise even as she waved at Jorg. Her happy expression did falter though when she caught sight of Larkin.

  “You’re looking well.” Cezar told him, having also seen him. “Does that mean…?”

  She trailed off meaningfully, glancing at Jorg. And the Dwarf nodded.

  “Yep, the lad has accepted the offer.”

  Cezar gave a broad smile, everyone ignoring Jasset’s audible groan.

  “Excellent news. Welcome to the Guild, Larkin.” The Branch Head’s face quickly lost much of its good humour. “I fear you’ll have lots of work.”

  Jorg frowned at her.

  “Have you had any news?” He asked.

  The Ranger shook her head.

  “No. But I’ve been thinking more about the arrival of the Firestinger Queen and what it suggests.”

  Cezar glanced behind her at the crowd of townspeople and guards still filling the square.

  “We should talk about that elsewhere.” She added. “At a different time.”

  Then she glanced back at Jasset and chuckled.

  “I want nothing more than a good meal and a bath, but I feel that Jasset might have something to show you.”

  Her name being spoken seemed to energise the girl. She stopped staring sullenly off into space and started practically bouncing on her toes.

  “I chose Second Shot.” She announced to Jorg. “It’s amazing!”

  Jasset immediately began hustling Jorg back towards the salle, and Larkin found himself dragged along with them as Cezar and Gascon peeled off to go elsewhere. The Scout went straight to the shooting range; rows of targets were placed along the wall at the far end of the chamber.

  “Watch this!”

  The girl smoothly strung her bow before placing an arrow on it and raising the weapon. With a quivering thwack her arrow pierced the centre of one of the targets.

  Jasset didn’t move again after that, just watching the targets with an anticipatory grin.

  Standing off to one side Larkin wandered what he was meant to be impressed by. Sure, it had been a good shot but that was what you’d expect from…

  He jumped at the bang that came from the targets.

  Which now quivered like it had just been struck with an arrow. But…

  Where’s the arrow?

  The arrow that Jasset had shot was still there, but that had already been embedded into the target.

  She also didn’t say the name of the Skill. He thought, recalling how the other kids from Earth had used their Skills when he’d observed them in that construction yard.

  Jasset gave a chuckle as she glanced in his direction - his clear confusion apparently making up for her indignation caused by his presence. She left it to Jorg to explain though.

  “Second Shot does what it says.” The Dwarf told him. “It gives the Classbearer a second shot, which in this case was a repeat of the first.”

  The Shieldbearer waved at the target.

  “Go and bring that target over here, kid.”

  Both Larkin and Jasset went to go forward and the girl gave him a dirty look as he stepped back. He heard Jorg chuckle softly behind his back as they waited for the Scout to return.

  “Look at that.” The Dwarf said when Jasset presented the target to him.

  Larkin gave an intrigued grunt as he stared at the two clear indentations in the board; one filled with an arrow while the other was empty.

  “So it doesn’t require a second arrow.” He observed.

  Then he paused as he tried to think it through. Surely something had to have caused that damage? Jorg carried on talking to Jasset, not apparently caring to explain how the Skill seemed to create something from nothing.

  “This isn’t the only way to use Second Shot though.” He told her. “Have you been able to find any other methods?”

  The dark haired girl started to nod, and then hesitated.

  “Do I have to say all of this in front of him?” She asked, looking openly at Larkin.

  The boy blinked at her, not sure how to respond. He had never been sure where her antagonism had come from in the first place.

  “Yes you do.” Jorg told her, voice firm. “Both of you are members of the Guild and will be working closely together.”

  The Shieldbearer scratched at his beard as Jasset bit her lip and gave a reluctant nod.

  “I actually think you’ll be quite busy.” He added. “Especially if Cezar’s concerns come to fruition.”

  Larkin gave the Dwarf a curious look but Jorg didn’t elaborate.

  “I have been trying something.” Jasset admitted, returning back to the Shieldbearer’s original question. “But it’s not quite working right.”

  The Scout put the target down and turned back to the remaining ones.

  With a smooth motion she once again sent one of her arrows into the centre of one of the targets. And again paused for a moment.

  This time though, her expression was one of intense focus.

  And a moment later a different target off to the right of the one she’d first struck suddenly jolted.

  “Wow.” Larkin murmured.

  He could already imagine how useful it could be to shoot one enemy and then have another one nearby take a second hit without any obvious sign of shooting at them.

  Jasset sent him a narrow eyed look though, which he blinked blankly back at.

  “It’s crap.” The girl told him, her voice clearly irritated.

  Larkin’s frown only deepened as he saw Jorg nod.

  “The power was reduced by too much.” The Dwarf said. “And you don’t seem very accurate.”

  Gazing between the two for a second, Larkin turned towards the target that had been by the Skill. He guessed that it had made less of a noise than when Jasset had first demonstrated the Skill. And he saw that the gauge in the target was off to the side rather than dead centre.

  It seems plenty impressive. He thought, but he decided not to argue. The girl already disliked him; he didn’t want to come across as mocking her.

  “The Skill’s a good one.” Jorg told Jasset. “You just need to get used to it. And you know what that means.”

  Jasset nodded, a half smile coming to her face.

  “Practise, practise, practise.” She muttered.

  But then the Scout paused and swung back around to focus on Larkin.

  “What about him?” She asked Jorg. “How much practice does he need?”

  The Shieldbearer chuckled even as Larkin felt a sinister premonition. A sense that proved very accurate as the Dwarf told the girl the details of his Class.

  The Fighter Class anyway, he’d followed Lyzkel’s advice and kept quiet about the Null Mage.

  “Level Four!”

  Jasset’s indignant snort rang out through the salle.

  “The kid’s only Level Four? He doesn’t even have a Perk yet!”

  Larkin frowned at the girl even as the Dwarf continued to chuckle.

  “I think I’m older than you.” He pointed out stiffly.

  Only for the dark haired girl to give him a scathing look.

  “Keep it down, newbie.” She snapped. “The adults are talking.”

  He flushed at that, especially as Jorg burst into full throated laughter.

  But to his surprise, after her initial outburst, Jasset seemed to completely turn around and accept his presence. The dark looks went away and she showed no problem when Jorg had the two compete.

  “Obviously you’re not going to be as good at shooting as me.” She said, after they’d spent a few minutes firing at the targets. “My Bow Mastery will trump your Common Weapons Expertise.”

  The girl frowned as she glanced down at his shortbow.

  “I guess you’ve used that a lot less than your sword and spear.” She added. “I can see you’re still hesitating, your motions aren’t smooth.”

  Larkin nodded.

  “My Class keeps trying to direct me, but it’s kinda… icky.” He said. “Any idea how I can learn to lean-in without having it take over?”

  Jasset actually smiled at that, a conspiratorial smirk coming to her lips.

  “Practise, practise, practise.” She teased, glancing over towards Jorg.

  Soon after that the Dwarf had the two of them square up for a spar. Larkin initially cringed at his expected reaction from Jasset to a contest that was clearly stacked against her.

  But to his surprise the girl seemed to be looking forward to it.

  “The Scout Class isn’t just about ranged attacks.” She told him. “I have Knife Fighting Expertise, too.”

  Jasset then glanced wryly over at Jorg.

  “And the idea of fighting someone lower levelled than me for once sounds… refreshing.”

  Sure enough, Jasset proved ridiculously quick in the resulting spar. Larkin could just about hold his own when he had a sword and shield - with her still just having the single knife. But he still took several blows to the arm that would have bled badly if the blade was sharp.

  And when they tried an actual knife fight it proved embarrassingly one-sided.

  “Your movements are all wrong.” The dark haired girl told him as she climbed off him, lifting the blunted blade from his sternum. “Are you getting tired or something?”

  Larkin coughed awkwardly at that; the girl had ducked past his awkward swing and bundled into him, her blade stabbing against his chest maybe a dozen times as they fell to the floor.

  Jasset’s speed had been frightening, sure. But also…

  “Have you ever hit a girl before, kid?”

  He flushed at Jorg’s question, especially as Jasset sent him a sudden look of understanding.

  “No. I haven't.” He admitted.

  And of course I haven't, he thought to himself.

  He hadn’t hit anyone at all until he came over to Systemia. And then he’d fought horrific monsters, not girls.

  “It was okay when I was using the sword.” He continued - especially as he’d known it was blunt. “But with the knife…”

  It had felt far more real, somehow. The difference in size and build between him and Jasset had been all too clear. He wasn’t a big guy but was still almost half a foot taller than the girl, and considerably heavier.

  “You need to get over that.” Jasset told him. “For both our sakes.”

  Surprisingly, the girl didn’t seem irritated but rather dead serious.

  “She’s right.” Jorg confirmed. “As an adventurer you may fight all sorts of threats, and you can’t let appearances mislead you.”

  The Dwarf pointed to Jasset.

  “Whatever your eyes might tell you, she’s faster than you. And a little bit stronger too.” He said. “And she hasn’t got a Class that focuses on those things. If she were a Fighter of the same level, she’d be twice as strong as you right now. Without looking much different than she does now.”

  Larkin nodded, trying to look like he was taking it all seriously.

  Which he was, it was just… from the moment he’d really been aware of the idea of getting into scrapes the idea of a boy hitting a girl had been frowned upon.

  I know that it’s different here, he thought. But sixteen years of social conditioning won’t just disappear overnight!

  “A number of monsters will try and play on those sensibilities, too.” Jorg told him. “You might find yourself facing what looks like a child, while knowing it’s actually a Soulsnatcher. Hesitation there would be catastrophic.”

  Larkin nodded. Well, he didn’t know what a Soulsnatcher was - and didn’t really want to delve into right now.

  I want to be able to sleep tonight, afterall.

  Besides, he got the general gist.

  “I understand.” He told them. “Can we go again?”

  Jasset gave him a grin as she fell into a ready crouch, but Jorg raised a hand as he stepped in between them.

  “Another time.” He said, his gaze going to the other side of the room. “I imagine we have some news?”

  “That’s right.”

  Cezar appeared through the doorway. The Branch Head looked at the three of them - she’d washed and changed clothes but there was a sense of tension about her that hadn’t been there when she was still wearing the signs of the road.

  “The temple has sent word, They’ve had news from the capital.” Cezar told them. “Get changed and come upstairs. We have a lot to discuss.”