After the adventurers had left for their job, which was apparently a day and a half’s travel away, Faye realised that she needed other friends in this place. Finding people that were able to get over their prejudices to actually teach her the things she knew might be difficult, from what Arran had said.

“Listen, it’s not going to be easy. I can’t lie to you. People are going to dismiss you easily. There’s good people in this town, though.”

She had no doubt that people always thought they were good people, and that their neighbours were good people. No one is the villain in their own story, after all. But there were things that she wouldn’t agree with them on and if she had no legal power to deny them, or to complain, then she would continually find herself at their mercy.

Shaking her head once more at the thought of the age of majority being the level of majority in this culture, Faye made herself ready for the day.

She left her sword and the blanket hidden between the trees and bushes again. She didn’t think that wandering around the town with a weapon was a good idea — no matter how high a level she might get to.

The town square wasn’t anywhere near as full as it had been the day before. Many of the stalls had already packed up and moved on. It seemed that around a quarter were still present to her eye. It made for lots of open spaces. People were gathered in those empty places, talking and laughing.

“What does this town produce?” she wondered aloud. There had to be a reason all these merchants would show up once every two years.

In one of the emptier parts of the square, abutting a small brick planter that was full of flowers and plants, sat a semi-circle of children on small cushions. Not a single one looked older than eight. At their head was a older man. His white hair starkly different to the black and dark browns of everyone else in sight — other than Faye herself. His hair was pulled back into a short tail, but the front and his fringe were cut short. It blended seamlessly into a full beard and moustache. Pinched onto the bridge of his nose were a small pair of black spectacles, the kind that didn’t need arms.

His trousers were baggy, like her own, but he had his tucked into a pair of knee-high boots. His tunic was off-white, bordered with a brown trim. In one hand, he held a hands-length thin piece of wood. She wasn’t sure what it was, but at a guess she’d have called it a wand. It wasn’t glowing or doing anything when he waved it around, though. His other hand was gesturing wildly as he spoke, keeping the attention of the children easily, but between sentences, he would rest it lightly on a large hard-bound book that was resting on the brickwork beside him.

Faye moved closer, curious about what the town would have its children doing instead of school.

“That’s right!” the old man was saying, “we all have the chance to do amazing things. Some of you will grow up to be amazing crafters, others will be dashing adventurers keeping us safe, and others still will go out into the wide world as merchants.”

“But my papa says that he wants me safe in town, he doesn’t want me to go out where the monsters are.”

“And you should listen to your papa, Mila. I am talking about when you’re all grown up.”

As he was talking to the youngsters, the man looked up and caught sight of Faye watching. He didn’t say anything and quickly went back to talking to the kids about growing up.

It seemed that the majority of them expected to do the same things as their parents. The man was telling them that it’s important to listen to those around you when you’re growing up, getting stronger is a good idea, but listening to the wisdom of those older than you can help you not to make mistakes.

Faye frowned to herself. It seemed that even the young children had to learn early on that there was a chance they’d be incredibly powerful one day. Magic, after all, was real. Presumably, a dangerous prospect for any growing town was a child that would be able to burn down buildings because they weren’t getting their own way.

Or worse. She shuddered to think what kind of things the cruelty of childhood could bring out.

Examining the children as they listened to their lesson, which Faye realised was probably this world’s version of school anyway, she noticed that most of them were paying attention. There wasn’t as much fidgeting and boredom that she had come to expect from being at school.

Then again, if she’d gone to school to learn magic, she was certain she’d have paid more attention too.

After a little while, the old man stopped asking the children about their futures and turned back into lecture mode.

“Now, I know that some of you have probably already heard this from your brothers, sisters, or parents… but it’s important, so listen up!”

The kids all sat up straight, putting their fingers on their lips in rapt attention. Faye smiled behind her hand. It was incredibly cute.

“As we grow up and do more and more interesting and new things, we level up. It’s the most basic aspect of our world. No one really knows why, or exactly how, but that isn’t important. We know that it happens… and if you ignore the way the world works it is dangerous.”

He looked around at them with stern, but kind, eyes; the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes told Faye that he was no stranger to smiling.

“Once you are old enough and experienced enough to reach the fifth level, you will be granted a class. Everyone receives a class. It reflects your position in the world. You will all likely end up with the same class as your parents — or mentors, if you accept a position with one. There’s nothing wrong with the class you first receive, no matter what anyone tells you! There are people who never change classes and live out their entire lives happy, fulfilled, and proud.”

Here, he sat back a little and smiled. His hand came to rest naturally on the large book beside him.

“Of course, there are people who want to do something different. They’re not content with what the world says they are.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he looked at one or two of the older children, who squirmed uncomfortably on their cushions. “And for those of us who don’t wish to do the same thing as our parents, we have a chance to change our class, and our fate, at the tenth level.”

He leaned forward, and the children unconsciously leaned in too.

“At tenth level, we have a choice. Either accept the class that has been granted to us, or to deny it in favour of another! But be careful, children. If you choose this path, you will need to level up again. A wrong choice can mean years of training.”

He leaned back, the smile back in place.

“Now, I have a task for you all!” The children all cheered and threw their hands up, the older ones too. “You all must ask five different people what classes they have chosen. But there are rules. Do not ask someone their level, it’s very disrespectful.”

Faye blushed. Why couldn’t she have seen this lecture before today?

“Remember all five that you hear, but if you find more than one person with the same class you must keep going until you have heard five different classes! Understood?”

“Yes, teacher!”

“Stay within the town square. Now, go on, I shall wait here for you to finish.”

The children all scrambled to their feet, laughing and carrying on with each other. There was some pushing and shoving as they all tried to get away fastest. Faye smiled as a few of them ran past her, she had to dodge a little so that she didn’t bump them.

“Ah, the exuberance of youth.”

Faye turned back to the old man. He was standing, now. His left hand carried the book, but his right was by his mouth, holding a pipe. It was already lit and emitting a small cloud of smoke. He was looking directly at Faye, though. His piercingly dark eyes bored into her.

“Come closer, child.”

Bristling at his choice of words, though acknowledging that he was clearly old enough to call anyone child, Faye moved to stand before him.

“It seems that I had an extra student, today. What’s your name?”

“I am Faye. What’s your name?”

“I am Taveon, Schoolmaster. I haven’t seen you before. You’re… new. Young to be wandering alone.”

Faye had the impression that it wasn’t in age that he referred to, but it wasn’t derision in his tone, but curiosity.

“I’m not from around here, no,” she said. She drew some of her hair behind her ear and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I… actually don’t know much about this place. Thank you, for letting me listen.”

He nodded and chewed thoughtfully on his pipe a moment.

“This task is one that I ask the children to complete once every year. It gets them used to the idea that there are many options in the world. Their parents, though they always mean well, are likely to push their offspring down the road well-trodden. They believe it is safer. They did, after all, walk that same path when they were younger.”

“Seems to me that if everyone only ever does what their parents did, you’d never really advance much in the world.”

Taveon’s eyes twinkled.

“Quite right, quite right indeed. There must always be those that push the boundaries, do things that their parents never did. Of course, there are many who cannot or will not choose that path for themselves. These are the people that are happy and healthy their entire lives staying in a single place, doing their best to do their work well. At the end of the day, those people are often happier than many others I have met in my years.”

His eyes narrowed a little as she didn’t say anything.

“So,” he said, lowering his voice so that she had to strain to hear him. “I wonder how long it has been since you entered our world, child.”

Faye caught her breath.

“What?”

“Hmm, I thought so. Not very long, I'd wager. A week, two?”

“This is my fourth, or fifth it’s not quite clear, day,” she said. “I have to be honest that I don’t know how long your weeks are.”

He suddenly grinned, it made him look much younger than his purely white hair would suggest.

“Hah! Well, I never. The existence of people like yourself has long been discussed in certain circles. No doubt, some of the cities have scholars and researchers that have met many like yourself. Relatively many. Out here, on the ‘edge of the world’ as some like to say, you are the first. I have read some accounts of otherworlders. Some that were almost certainly apocryphal, and others that seem much more plausible.”

Faye tapped her foot a little.

“I would happily help you write your own… if you would help me?”

Taveon burst out into a rumbling chuckle. He took the pipe from his mouth and the smoke that escaped his mouth and nose made him look something like a pleased baron, or something, from a children’s cartoon.

“Oh, Faye, my child, I will listen to your questions day or night, from now until the day I die. For that, you have my word.” He paused. “But first, I must have your word on something.”

She nodded.

“Be careful with whom you entrust this information. You are incredibly vulnerable. Some of those children…,” he glanced around the square at the racing figures of the town’s kids, “are likely stronger than you, faster than you, or tougher than you.”

She frowned, looking over her shoulder at the children running around, giggling and trying to push each other out of the way in front of the adults that were still trying to use the market stalls.

“Really?” she asked, “they’re stronger than I am?”

As she turned back to Taveon, the smile and humour was gone from his expression. “Yes, Faye. The children are stronger than you. All but the youngest child will have more experience than you, and you must be careful.”

“It doesn’t matter whether I tell someone or not, anyway,” she said, going back to the previous issue. “It’s obvious the moment I speak that I’m not a local.”

He looked pointedly at her hair. “I’m afraid it’s obvious the moment someone sees your gold hair that you’re not a local. But as to how local, that’s another matter entirely.”