The next morning after his most recent dungeon rampage and the shiny new Appraisal skill, Sharath sat at his desk, drinking tea and gazing out the window like a king brooding over his kingdom… except his kingdom at present consisted of farms, in-progress plumbing networks, one dodgy dungeon entrance, and a mounting stack of wolf and slime loot.
Thermo lounged on the desk, lazily pawing at a quill. His tail twitched as if he were bored or planning a revolution. Sharath couldn't tell.
"Well, 🐧NeuroBoop," Sharath said between gulps, "I've made up my mind about what's next."
"If you say one more dungeon run without informing your parents, I swear—"
"Nope. Today we assess every single one of Unnatirajya's inhabitants."
There was a silence. Then the voice of the AI returned as dry as parchment."Yes, because nothing is more fun than making hundreds of people wait in line so you can gaze at them until their stats appear. Really, the sign of a benevolent dictator."
The Town Hall Gathering
News spread fast, largely because Sharath had dispatched runners the night before instructing everybody to gather at the town hall "for something important." And in Unnatirajya, that phrase generally meant either new construction… or some sort of crazy invention demo involving blasts.
By dawn, the hall was full. There were farmers, blacksmiths, merchants, fishermen, mages, children grasped by the leg or arm of a parent, and one baker who had brought a tray of bread "in case this was going to take a while.
Sharath in front, wearing a simple tunic but with his official crest clipped to the tunic. To his side, a long table with two scribes, piles of blank parchment, and an ink bucket the size of a small bucket.
"Okay," Sharath called out, voice echoing in the hall, "individual appraisals today. You'll come up one at a time, I'll see what your status is, and my scribes will take down the information. Don't worry. This isn't an examination."
A withered old man in the rear raised a hand. "Young Lord, will it hurt?"
"No. Unless boredom is painful," Sharath said.
The First Six
The first one came forward. Sharath energized Appraisal. A glowing panel materialized:
Name: Harnod BrevikOccupation: CarpenterProficiencies: Wood Shaping Lv. 3, Furniture Craft Lv. 2, Nail Avoidance Instinct Lv. 1Special Trait: Does not blink at hammer blows
The clerks scribbled madly. Harnod gazed vaguely proudly.
Then a fisherman. Then a seamstress. Then a young woman whose only proficiency was "Fast Runner Lv. 5" because she used to run messages between villages. After six individuals, Sharath's temples were pounding.
"Fine," he growled under his breath. "This is… really tiring."
The Lightbulb Moment
🐧NeuroBoop, naturally, had been silently criticizing him. Now it finally spoke."You do understand, genius, that you don't really need to read all of this aloud to the scribes so that they can copy it, right?"
"Yes, well, they require the information—"
"Do you have hands?"
".Yes?"
"Do you have me?"
"Yes…
"Then let me screenshot the appraisal windows myself and dump them into your brain for transcription later."
Sharath blinked. "…Wait, you can do that?"
"Of course I can. I'm a hyper-advanced neural interface with sarcasm upgrades. The only reason I didn't suggest it before is because I figured you liked to suffer."
Speedrun Appraisal
Sharath faced the hall. "Change of plan. When I call your name, approach, stand in front of me for two seconds, and then leave. Next person."
Muddled mutterings filled the hall, but people obeyed. 🐧NeuroBoop took mental snapshots so quickly it seemed like Sharath was operating an assembly line. The scribes were confused, wondering why nothing was being recorded.
"Don't worry," Sharath told them. "We'll write everything later. Right now, we're going for efficiency."
By the end of the day, the last person stepped out the door. Sharath turned to the hall and said, "We're done. Come back the day after tomorrow for your official identification papers."
The Great Sorting
At his palace, Sharath directed the scribes to install in the study. He started dictating the information 🐧NeuroBoop had saved, one by one. The AI cast the appraisal data like phantom scrolls only Sharath was able to perceive, and the scribes copied them down.
The procedure took two days. Sharath had full profiles for all 537 people of Unnatirajya by the time they were finished.
Now was the entertaining bit—sorting.
The Categories
Craftsmen: 74 (blacksmith, carpenter, tailor, leatherworker)
Farmers: 189 (with specializations such as grain, vegetables, and "pumpkin the size of a cart")
Fishermen: 34
Merchants & Traders: 28
Combatants: 42 (knight, ex-military, and "guy who once punched a bear")
Mages: 19 (from "light sparks" to "small fireball")
Other: 151 (including entertainers, scribes, cooks, and one man whose only ability was "Rock Balancing Lv. 7")
Sharath grouped them into work units, making a list of who could be trained for specialized positions—such as dungeon defense guards, engineers for infrastructure maintenance, and workers for resource processing.
🐧NeuroBoop's Commentary
Now and then, the AI would comment on an appraisal:
"This guy's ability is literally 'Cheese Making Lv. 6.' I'm not saying it's worthless, but you could now begin a dairy monopoly."
"Fast Runner Lv. 5 girl? Promote her as courier chief. Or assign her to track down delinquent tax payers."
"Who the devil is 'guy who once punched a bear'? And why does he only have that one skill?"
Sharath wrote them all down, even the absurd ones, because—well—sometimes absurd was handy.
At the end of the two days, Sharath rested back in his chair, his eyes tired but content.
"Done. Every citizen now has an ID sheet. Every profession is recorded. Everyone is in their proper place."
Thermo, who had been sleeping in the stack of blank vellum, meowed in approval… or perhaps he was simply asking for treats.
🐧NeuroBoop's tone was complacent. "Well done. You have now finished with the medieval equivalent of creating a player database. Shall we begin allocating quests?"