There are two types of classes in the world: Commoner and Battle.
Commoner Class paths are far too numerous to even hope to name them all.
But among Battle Classes, there are only four pathways.
Or at least…there are only supposed to be four…
Tier 1----->Tier 2 ----->Tier 3
Soldier* |Knight|Dragon Knight
Tier 1----->Tier 2 ----->Tier 3
Apprentice|Templar|Paladin
Tier 1----->Tier 2 ----->Tier 3
Apprentice|Mystic|Sorcerer
Tier 1----->Tier 2 ----->Tier 3----->Tier 4
Acolyte|Healer|Priest|High Priest
*With extreme effort, it is very rare, but possible, for a farmer to become a Soldier
Tier 1----->Tier 2 ----->Tier 3
Farmer|Field Defender|Caravan Guard -->Tier 1 (Battle) --> Soldier
Chapter 4: The Town of Bradford
As Dal neared the magnificent town of Bradford, his mood became elevated and a smile found its way onto his lips. Part of this, he knew, was that his brain was being unnaturally altered by his extremely high dishwashing level; put simply, being above level-55 in any class except for the final one in a class progression should not be possible, and there were certain…complications that came with it—or at least Dal suspected that this might be the case.
It was also possible he really did just love dishwashing this much. Maybe he'd always been this way and it wasn't just the extreme effect that being level-61 was having on his mind. Because despite the circumstances that led him here, he was feeling really, really good.
Although…it also could've been because of the sights that were now filling his eyes. Bradford, you see, wasn't just any town. It was a town of the future.
Having been revamped just before the outbreak of the war, all the streets were paved in a smooth, polished stone, and they were kept clean at all hours of the day and night. The buildings themselves were all constructed from the same darker-colored brick, giving a matching uniformity to many of the structures that Dal found impressive. He also greatly appreciated the sight of the large clocktower near the town's entrance, attached to which was a bell that rang out each morning and night.
But none of this was what truly made Bradford special. None of it was what made the town astounding. No, Bradford had something that only three towns in the world currently possessed, all three of which were located in Ostros.
Electricity.
As in, the very same electricity one might see during a thunderstorm.
It was a newfound miracle created by high-level Inventors just a few years prior, and this was the first time Dal was able to experience it for himself in person. And to be honest? He couldn't even believe what his eyes were seeing.
All along, throughout, and within this large town were lights, which activated all at once now that the sun had set. These lights…they chased away the darkness and shadows, made it safer for women to travel alone and unaccompanied, and supposedly had the effect of lowering the rate of crime.
And it wasn't even magical.
That was the part that Dal—and probably many others—struggled to come to grips with. None of this, apparently, involved the use of magical arts, which was baffling. What an extraordinary thing if true. The very idea that these mystical lights could be powered by nothing more than some kind of wire connected to a pole…it was a marvel unlike anything Dal had ever beheld. It was also considered an experiment, which was why the rest of Ostros had yet to benefit from it.
Right now, only the towns of Bradford, Ocanna, and Nallum had been given this miraculous gift of electricity. Officials in Ostros claimed that this was to ensure it was safe before they began rolling it out in the capital city followed by smaller towns afterwards. The king had even claimed that, eventually, they would harness this power to light the roads at night and ward off monsters. But could such a dream truly be realized? An entire nation that shined in the night?
The empire seemed to believe so—and it was the whole cause of this war in the first place.
Ostros, having stumbled upon something so fundamentally world-changing, had inspired envy and fear alike in the other nations. Yet while it promised to eventually share this power—or technology, as they referred to it—with the rest of the world, their actions made it clear that such an act of "generosity" would not be for a very, very long time, and that they would do so in such a way that it required other nations to rely upon them; in other words, rather than learn how to make or manifest this incredible power on their own, King Erickson had announced he planned to "distribute" the power for a fee.
The emperor of Jorminia, quite predictably, had been outraged, and in retaliation, he'd decided to launch an invasion. And so now, Ostros was in the midst of a battle for its very survival, one that, in Dal's opinion, was spurred on by greed.
But really? None of that mattered right now. No, all of that was meaningless. And why? Because for all the splendor of electricity, it simply could not compare to the astounding beauty of dishwashing. Thus, as Dal approached the town gates, he bounced energetically on his heels as he waited for a merchant and his caravan to be inspected.
"Go on in," said a man from the town guard dressed in leather hide armor. "Next!"
Dal approached. The guard, holding a piece of paper attached to a clipboard, jotted something down and muttered, "Name?"
"My name is Dal Rineloch, sir."
"Age?"
"18," Dal said, lying out of necessity.
"What brings you to Bradford this evening?" he asked with a disinterested-sounding yawn.
"I seek employment."
"Let me inspect you." The guard's eyes briefly flashed red. "Dishwasher, huh? All right. You're good. Come in."
Dal bowed his head in thanks. Then he hurried inside the town, his form bathing in the artificial light that made it possible to see from one end of the town square to the other, something impossible to do with torches alone. Torches left large gaps of darkness in between splotches of light, but here, in this town, the electricity provided a palpable feeling of safety.
The rumors are true, Dal thought as he took in the bustling crowds.
It was so strange to see such a large number of people out and about after the sun had set. Even stranger still were the various eateries, which Ostros called "restaurants," that only began to serve supper at such a time. In most towns and cities, dinner at a pub was usually served in the early afternoon. But thanks to the recent advent of light itself, Bradford was awash with nighttime activities—and all with a relative feeling of safety and security. It was no wonder the Jorminian Empire coveted it.
Walking fast, Dal made his way to the very first establishment to cross his path, which in this case was a large, spacious eatery with well-dressed customers—likely from the Merchant class or greater. Dal then hurriedly approached a counter near the entrance. There, a smiling woman standing behind it asked, "Are you here to eat?" Dal identified her as being a Barmaid, though she was charming and likely a high level.
"Actually, I was wondering if you are in need of a dishwasher for tonight's dinner service. I am extremely skilled."
The woman fetched the manager, who quickly gave Dal a look-over, shook his hand, and without even a formal introduction, said, "I can give you 40g for the night and a free meal. That's not much, but it's what we offer non-regulars. If you're good and you become part of my staff, then we can talk about a more reasonable wage."
Dal shook his head. "I'll take anything you give me. I just really want to clean some dishes. Can I start right away?"
"Uh, sure, kid, the kitchen is right this—"
Compelled by an excitement and an urge that he couldn't control, Dal practically pushed the man out of his way as he stormed through the restaurant, anxiously opened the door to the kitchen, and almost melted with joy as he saw a pile of filthy dishes and silverware, one stacked so high it almost reached the ceiling. But then his heart sank as he spotted a man walking over to it. From his attire, he too looked to be a dishwasher.
"Please," Dal blurted out, a tad bit more desperation in his voice than he intended.
"Huh?" the man asked, turning around.
The kitchen area was very busy, so Dal had to twist and turn his body to avoid bumping into people as he maneuvered his way closer to the man. "Please let me clean those. I've just been hired to clean dishes for the night."
"But this is my station. We have an empty one right here, next to me." He pointed. The dishes there were much cleaner. It angered Dal, though he suppressed it.
"Can I please have your station? With the really dirty ones?"
The man looked at him as though he were crazy. "Wait, you want more work?"
"Yes!"
"Well…shit, okay, I mean. Fuck. Fine. Why would I refuse? I'll swap with you."
Dal's hands practically shook with excitement as he reached for the first plate. "Oh, where is your water bucket?" he asked.
"No water buckets in Bradford. We use sinks now."
"Sinks?"
"Yeah, we just got them. Is this your first time in Bradford?"
"No."
"When were you here last, kid?"
Dal caught himself before replying "twenty years ago." Instead, he said, "When I was a little boy."
"You're still a little boy in my eyes," the man said with a laugh despite Dal being at least a decade older than him. "What are you, eighteen? Nineteen?"
"Something like that," Dal lied, knowing that offering his real age would immediately arouse suspicion and disbelief.
The man nodded. He then placed a dish in the wash basin, which he had referred to as a "sink." Then, he performed some kind of miracle. He turned a handle, and hot water began pouring out of a pipe and onto the plate. "Amazing, right?" he asked. "I've been working here for five years, and we just got these in six months ago. It still blows my mind every time."
Incredible, Dal thought to himself. Is this also possible because of electricity?
Under ordinary circumstances, Dal might've been tempted to stop and gawk in amazement. But his surprise was hindered by the extreme craving to wash dishes. And so, shoving aside his sense of wonder at the technological marvel, he began cleaning right away. Now, his hands moved with such speed and coordination that the dishwasher next to him actually stopped what he was doing and turned to look.
"What the…fuck?"
"Mich, get back to work," a voice growled. "What are you doing?"
"Boss, look!"
"Look? Look at what?"
"This guy!"
Dal heard the sound of a gasp, but he ignored it. His hands, moving so fast they appeared a blur, erased any last trace of sauce and grime from a ceramic plate in less than a second, and then he moved onto the next one, and the next one after that. The plates from the dirty pile moved quickly to the clean one. And before he had even finished cleaning half, the other dishwashers stopped what they were doing to come look. Dal ignored them.
"More," he asked, finishing two giant stacks in under a minute. "Can I clean those? Please?" he asked the dishwasher who had stopped to stare at him.
"You…you want to do my work for me?"
"Yes, please. I'll pay you if I have to."
"You'll pay me?"
Dal shook his head and chided himself. What was wrong with him? This must have been Class-Draw. The CD was extreme right now and was making him behave irrationally. "Sorry, just a joke," he said awkwardly as he fought to remember how a normal person was supposed to act. His extremely high level made that difficult. "May I?"
"Uh, sure."
Dal moved over to his sink and resumed, his hands a blur as he washed, scrubbed, and stacked. Now, even some of the cooks stopped what they were doing to come look. There were murmurs of disbelief everywhere. Before long, everyone in the kitchen had stopped what they were doing to watch, and the serving staff came in as well. This eventually led to the manager coming by, and as he saw Dal work, he made a loud, shocked-sounding inhale.
"Young man, you are incredible. What level are you?"
"47," Dal lied, knowing that he was already straining the limits of credulity as things were. If he had replied with "61," that might have created issues for him.
"Incredible," the manager said. "You are outstanding! How haven't you promoted yet?"
"No idea," he said truthfully.
"Well, I…I would like to offer you a job here."
"Sorry, but I'm only willing to work for tonight."
And so, as Dal went down the line of sinks and began cleaning not just his but everyone's plates, the manager followed after him and began making him higher and higher offers. Dal refused each one. After all, in about two hours from now, his current skills would vanish as though they'd never been, and come tomorrow afternoon, he'd likely be moving along to the next town, one that would almost certainly not be as nice as this one.
But…that was just how things were.
*******
"You there!" a guard armed with a sword and shield shouted.
Alain turned around, and so did his companions. The four of them were moving throughout the town square. The guard, beckoning two of his fellows to come join, marched over and confronted Alain directly.
"Why is your information private?" the guard demanded. "Who are you four?"
"Have we done something wrong, sir?" Alain asked him.
He grunted. "You're behaving suspiciously. All four of you are."
"How so?"
"By parading around Bradford with your classes hidden. Identify yourselves. Now!"
Alain sighed. "All right, sheesh." With that, he grabbed the sides of his hood and then lowered it. Now, the guard—along with two of his fellows—immediately dropped to their knees, their eyes widening in shock and amazement.
"Y-your Highness!" he cried out. "Forgive me! I didn't know."
Alain, becoming nervous, looked around, worried they'd start a commotion. He quickly pulled up his hood and made a frantic gesture with his fingers, curling them, indicating for the man to rise. "Get up," he whispered. "Now."
"Oh…okay," the guard said, rising. Now, his own voice dropping to a whisper, he asked, "Is there a reason you have blessed us with your presence, Your Highness? It is very…unusual to see you here in Bradford."
"There is," Alain replied, "but I can't tell you just yet. I do need a favor, though."
"O-of course!"
"I need your men to be extra vigilant in their patrols tonight. I want you to report any suspicious behavior directly to me."
"Suspicious behavior?"
He nodded. "Anything at all. Anyone behaving or acting in a way that is unusual or out of the ordinary." With a chuckle, he added, "Aside from me and my companions."
"Very well." Then his voice turned grim and serious. "Is something going to happen in Bradford?"
"Hopefully not," Alain replied. "I'm going to take a look around. Just remember to report directly to me. Understood?"
He saluted. "Yes, Your Highness!"