Faye’s conversation with the Administrator had been long and tiring. She finally walked out of the Guild Hall hours later, with the weak winter sun high in the sky. Part of Faye was impressed. The Administrator was definitely someone that was used to getting her own way, but, she smirked, there were some things that she had clearly been backpedalling on.

She held up her metal training sword from Earth and looked along its length again. There were just the usual nicks and imperfections along the blunt edge that she had put there herself. It was practically untouched.

Getting the Administrator to give it back was something she had been particularly pleased with. It had been part of what she called her remuneration package.

Basically an exercise in reminding her that I had something she wanted, over and over again, she thought.

She did not feel like going back to the house, despite the chill in the air. Gavan had been unable to teach her anything because of his mana headache, but that did not mean she was completely out of options.

Maggie had caught up to Faye as she had reached the lobby and told her that Taveon actually finished the school term early.

He was finally free.

Faye felt like skipping, and part of her wondered if it was the residual energy from the spell. It was odd going from one extreme to the other, but there was something about this place that encouraged extreme responses in people.

Okay, extreme responses in me.

Following the directions Maggie had given her to Taveon’s house was much simpler than she had feared. After so much time wandering the streets of Lóthaven, the layout had started to make sense to her.

The Administrator’s response to Faye’s class had been something she had wondered about, because something in the way she had asked for the class information had been odd. The Administrator had admitted that whilst there were other ways to find out the information, there was always politics and people’s personal preferences involved.

Apparently, having someone like Faye willing to give some of that information, even for a higher price than strictly necessary, was something the Guild were eager to gain.

Shaking her head, she pulled up the wool of her winter cloak to protect her neck. The winds were quite harsh, particularly through the wider streets that led over to where Taveon’s house was situated.

It took her long enough to find Taveon’s house, which for some reason featured a kind of tower on the back left corner of the building, that her fingers were totally numb, but she didn’t have a scabbard or another belt loop for her training sword, so she had to wrap her cloak around it to try and prevent her fingers freezing.

She slammed her hand on the door when she reached it.

Fortunately, he didn’t make her wait too long.

Taveon opened the door with a wide smile. “Faye! Welcome, welcome, please enter, take a seat. The fire’s lit.”

“Thank you, I hope that you don’t mind me coming.”

“Not at all!” he said, beaming. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long.”

He held out a mug of something steaming, which she took after setting aside her sword.

She sat in front of the large hearth in the cosy room he’d led her into. It was well-furnished and seemed somewhere between a study, a living room, and a workshop. There were pieces of parchment, tablets of stone, and books strewn liberally around the place. She had found two on the seat that Taveon had offered her to take.

“Yes, sorry about those, let me take them and put them… ah… here.”

Faye smiled. She had had some friends like this, chaos incarnates on the outside — but invariably tracked with some internal compass that made no sense to another living soul.

“How have you been?” she asked, sipping the tea. It was good, a hint of something nutty over the more traditional flavour.

“Busy. Busy. The children learn fast, which is good. Their parents are stern taskmasters. Yet, many of them will never use some of my lessons.” He shook his head. “But with the festival just on the threshold, I’ve been given a few days’ grace to relax.” He grinned, leaning forward, “Of course, being the schoolmaster means I can end lessons whenever I decide… and relaxation won’t be happening, will it?”

Faye blushed, and lowered the mug from her mouth, cradling it carefully on her knees.

“Well, everyone has told me that you’re the best person to learn from…” she started. He nodded, encouragingly. “And, after what they told me and what that man said in the market square… well, I couldn’t ask you before now.”

His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t unkind.

“There’s something that people like to forget when they talk about me,” he said. He took a deliberate sip of his own mug. “I love to teach.”

She smiled with him. “It’s funny. I never used to like learning. Of course, that was when I only had maths, English, or boring history or something. It wasn’t until someone took me along to a historical martial arts class that I realised that learning didn’t have to be boring.”

“Every season,” Taveon said, “I have children that beg for something else to do. Some of them attempt to stay with their parents, even. Fortunately, part of my contract with the town includes in very strong terms that all eligible children must attend my lessons. They’re afraid I’ll leave if they don’t abide by it, so the parents are very involved in getting their children to my lessons.”

Here, he picked up a plate that he had on a side table, took something from it and passed it over to Faye. She looked down and saw that they were little pieces of pastry.

“Go ahead, they’re very good,” he said, shaking the plate a little. She acquiesced and took one. “Of course, the stipulations in that same contract mean that if I don’t uphold my end of the bargain, they’re able to oust me. If they can prove that I’ve been negligent, of course, they won’t need to oust me. I’ll leave myself.” He laughed and shoved a pastry in his mouth.

Faye tried her treat. They were tasty, reminding Faye of maple syrup, but somewhat nuttier in flavour. She got the impression that Taveon had a favourite flavour and was sticking with it.

“So, all that to say, Faye my dear, I am very sorry that it has taken this long for me to have some free time to sit with you properly and discuss the things that you must be very eager to know!”

Faye nodded, savouring the last bite of the pastry. She ordered her thoughts and took another from the plate to Taveon’s grin.

“When we first met, I was only level two, I think, but I’ve managed to level up. I’m a Swordfighter, now.”

“Yes, yes, I noticed. Congratulations! An amazing class to receive at level five, Faye, truly.”

She paused.

“I’m already side tracked. How could you tell?” she asked.

“Like some people, I have one of the appropriate skills to examine your system status. Mine is called Analyse. It’s a little more detailed than what some people aim for. The most common skill of this type is called Scan, though plenty aim for Sense Status instead, of course.”

Faye narrowed her eyes. “You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”

Taveon let out a small laugh and handed her the sweet plate again.

“I’m afraid I was playing a small joke on you, Faye. Yes. There are many, many skills in the world, and the majority of them seem to overlap. There are scholars who have made it their entire life’s work to catalogue every single skill in existence.” He shook his head. “I believe that to be a fool’s errand, alas.”

Faye was about to say something else when Taveon interrupted with a hand.

“Ah! I almost forgot, there is another key reason I was able to use my skill. You are not wearing protections against the skill, and your class does not have the appropriate barriers either.”

“Ah, you mean they’re common?”

He shook his head and chuckled. “Not at all common. They can be expensive. However, those with rare or interesting classes are more likely to purchase them.”

Faye nodded, thinking. “Also, Rían seemed to think that there are a small number of skills that I might have known.”

Taveon nodded. “That’s because of your level. When you reach the fifth level and are given your first class, there are fairly well-established rules on what skills you may receive from the system for your reward.”

“I guess some are rare and others common?” she asked. She had to stop leaning forward for more pastries, she had not eaten anything this sugary in weeks and it was coating her teeth. “And they can be ranked.”

“Yes,” he said, seemingly surprised she had said that, “they can be ranked, indeed. The exact names of the ranks are debated, as everything is, but generally you can think of them as being the same tier as your level.”

Faye nodded. Before she could ask something else about Skills, though, Taveon changed the subject.

“How are you finding it here, Faye?”

Blinking at the tangent, she shrugged. “I like it enough,” she said. “I would be lying if I said that it was easy, of course, but other than people treating me like a literal child, it’s been okay.”

Taveon didn’t smile this time. “That’s not the same thing as being happy.”

“No, it isn’t,” she said. “I don’t think anyone in my circumstances would really be happy. I mean, I had friends, family, a crappy job, people that knew me professionally…” she trailed off. The burning sensation of held back emotion had built to choke her words out of her throat.

“I’m sorry, Faye,” Taveon said. His eyes were a striking hazel, lighter than almost everyone else’s that she’d seen so far. “I am terribly sorry that you are dealing with this.”

She could only nod at him and fake a smile that fooled neither of them.

“Tell me,” Taveon said, “what you think you should be aiming for here.”

Faye swallowed down the emotion, and after a few clearings of her throat was able to speak again.

“Get stronger, not have to deal with anyone’s bullshit anymore.”

Taveon gave her a tight smile. “That’s a grand, overarching goal. Surely you have thought more about the short term?”

He had sat back in his chair, its high back padded enough to provide what looked to be a very comfy position to sit and talk from. Faye’s chair only came halfway up her back, by comparison, but it was still squishy and nice to sit on.

She shook herself, bringing her thoughts back to the question.

“I will train to level ten,” she said. “It’s the point that I get to choose what I do for, well, the rest of my life, I presumed.”

“Yes, though you are aware, I’m sure, that most people take many years to reach that level?” He wasn’t harsh with his words, but he made her flinch anyway.

She was trying not to remember that fact every waking minute.

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. “I’m just working to get stronger, I’m not really sure what I should be aiming for.”

He grinned. “That’s, surprisingly, a better answer than most in your position give.”

“I thought you said you had never met anyone like me before,” she said. “How many people in my position have you spoken to?”

He waved a hand. “You misunderstand, I don’t mean others with your origin but others of your level. When someone first reaches their fifth level, especially someone who, through sheer divine luck or providence, have been granted an above average class, their thoughts are usually very lofty.”

Faye shrugged. “There’s a lot I don’t know, I’m not quite dumb enough to go blasting so far ahead so fast that I can’t change course if I need to.”

“I heard that you went into the forests on your own the other night…” Taveon said, making a steeple of his fingers in front of his face. His hazel gaze locked on her and she couldn’t help but squirm under the scrutiny.

“Alright, I might have done that. But they were effectively stopping my growth! I gained two levels that night. On my own.”

He hadn’t moved.

“You put yourself in grave danger for the nebulous chance of advancing.”

“It worked, though.”

“You had no guarantee.”

“I didn’t need a guarantee,” she retorted. “I needed the chance.”

They sat in silence for a few moments more.

“How different is it here compared to your old life?”

“I never ran through forests killing squirrels, if that’s what you mean,” she said with a bit of a grin. “Danger is less about the primal forces of nature and more about people, where I’m from. People are more dangerous than the wild animals you could run across. Especially where I lived, anyway. Even those who are supposed to be close to you.”

Taveon nodded. “There’s a lot of that here, too,” he said, quietly. “What did your system tell you when you killed those squirrels?”

Faye thought back. She wasn’t really sure. It seemed to have the same message each time, or she thought it did anyway.

She shrugged. “Something like ‘Congratulations, you have killed a level three squirrel’. I’m not sure, I will pay attention next time.”

His eyes narrowed.

“How did it present that information?”

“In a notification.”

“A notification?”

She nodded, sitting forward a little. “Yeah, except it’s in my head. I know that it’s not really there, and though I know I don’t hear it, I can sort of… understand it without needing to read it, or hear it…”

Taveon nodded. “That’s a common feature for most systems that feature a written component. You know, there’s some very good treatises on that phenomenon. They call it… now how did it go? Hmm. Oh, yes, the ‘Theory of Omnisensory Input’, I believe.”

Faye let her eyebrow rise. “That sounds as pretentious as the ‘Grand Theory of Everything’, or whatever our theorists called it.”

Taveon chuckled, “Yes, well, the first discussions simply called it ‘sensory input’, and it grew somewhat from there.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, Faye watching the flames of the hearth as she sipped her tea.

“Taveon, I want to learn magic. Gavan said he would, but today he’s out of it with a mana headache.”

He nodded with a sympathetic wince. “Poor boy. And yes, it’s a powerful thing. To be able to call into being plumes of flames as tall as a building, shake the earth so that walls are toppled, or form blades of wind sharper than the keenest blade. Yes, it’s all possible. There is more to learning magic than simple spells however. Are you ready for hard work?”

Faye leaned forward, looked straight into the older man’s eyes and made sure not to blink.

“I have never been more prepared for something in my life.”

Then, she grinned and jumped up from the chair. “Come on, these chairs are too comfy. We’ll never get to move if we don’t do it now.”

He just laughed. It was a pleasant laugh, and she found her grin widening.

“I have a small set of scrolls put aside for this eventuality, as a matter of fact.” He pushed himself up and strode easily over to a bookshelf that was teeming with books, scrolls, and tablets. “I’m not sure what you’ve been told… ah, here they are.” He grabbed a bundle of tightly rolled scrolls down from a shelf and turned back. “But there are a series of skills that are incredibly useful for the budding mage. It is not easy to teach those skills. Fortunately, over time there have been spells created that usually assist with the process.”

He turned to look at Faye. “You know, it just occurred to me that you sword-wielding types are not often the ones asking me to learn magic. Not that many people in the town ask.”

Faye shrugged. “It’s always been something I’ve wanted. Magic is just awesome.”

Nodding, Taveon brought the scrolls over to the chairs.

“The first thing we would typically need to do,” he said, “is check that this would not be a waste of time. I trust that you know this already, but the Magic attribute governs one’s ability to perform magic. Without it, there is no chance of this working.”

Faye nodded. “The topic came up.”

“Obviously, I already know that your Magic attribute is acceptable, which is the base from which most people start their journey into the magical arts.”

“Mmm,” Faye murmured. “I actually wasn’t sure until you just said it, so that’s a relief! I had forgotten about that.”

Taveon blinked and looked at her with a strange expression. “What do you mean you were not sure?”

“Well, Maggie said that I could find out what my stats were at the Guild, but that would make them public record essentially and I figured that when I level they’ll change anyway so why not wait until I can actually see them myself?”

Taveon just looked at her with an open mouth. “I do not know how to respond to that, Faye. You mean to tell me that you don’t know what your attributes are?”

Faye shook her head. “Nope, not a one.”

“B-but your system is visual! You said so yourself.”

“Occasionally visible is more accurate, I’m afraid,” she said.

“Fascinating!”

Taveon turned and strode towards his bookshelf, running a finger across the books and other items arrayed across it. He was mumbling to himself.

“I mean, it really doesn’t matter does it?” she asked him.

“Hmm,” he spoke up after a moment, “yes and no. It’s complicated. There are theories, of course, but what I’m interested in is whether there are cases that visual systems react adversely to being made temporarily invisible and how that affected their magic.”

“Uh, wouldn’t it be easier to just… test it?” she ventured. “Give me a spell and see what happens?”

Taveon looked over his shoulder. “Yes, but if something odd is going to happen and we did not forewarn ourselves, that would be silly, wouldn’t it?”

“I suppose,” she said, shrugging.

Taveon had pulled a rather thin tome from his shelf and held it in one hand whilst rapidly flipping the pages with his other.

“Oh, shame.”

“Look, if it says something bad will happen, I will try it anyway…”

“No, nothing like that,” he said. “But the only source I thought of has nothing of true relevance. Looks like you’re going to get what you wanted. It’s time for a field test.”

Taveon had pulled a backpack out of a closet and stuffed various books and scrolls inside, as well as a small wooden box that he said contained his writing implements.

Soon enough, he had bundled himself in a warm coat and pulled on the backpack, looking for all intents and purposes like a middle-aged adventurer.

“Taveon… have you been an adventurer in the past?”

“No, not as such,” he replied. “But clothing made for adventuring is excellent for travelling. Now, come on. Let’s get going.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Faye said. It had been preying on her mind for a while, and Taveon was the first person she had thought would have the answers. “If my class is combat related, is that why my system only shows up when I’m fighting or outside the walls? Can I only level through combat?”

The way that the man’s eyes bugged out of his face told her that it was probably not the smartest thing she could have said.

“Faye,” he spluttered for a moment. “No, no… that’s… no!”

She tried to wave him down, “I’m sorry, I take it back!”

“Just for combat? Oh, Faye, what? You poor woman. The system, only for fighting? What do you think of us? Barbarians with swords in our hands, knives in our boots…”

Faye grimaced; he wasn’t listening to her at all.

“To only progress through acts of violence… the… the… horror that it would cause!”

“You can progress through levels without killing?” she asked. Somehow, he heard her this time.

“Yes! Yes! Of course you can! There are crafters, Faye, crafters who make things that you wouldn’t believe. They are masters of the craft they have chosen, artisans of the highest level that create wonders. They, most of them anyway, forsake the martial arts in favour of the genteel arts of creation; artistry for art’s sake, words that make the soul cry, statues of such life-like vigour…”

“Bags of holding?” she asked, pointing at his backpack.

“Bags of… what? Aren’t all bags holding?”

“No, they’re magical, spaces with extra room for all the things adventurers carry and find?”

Taveon just stared at her for a moment, and she was worried she had broken him.

“That would require a level of magic that I am not entirely certain exists. If it does, and there is a possibility that it does after all, then the owners would likely keep that secret to their dying breath. A bag that has extra dimensional spaces inside. Hmm, yes, I can see how that would be incredible.”

Faye shook her head and held open the door for Taveon to leave. “Honest, that’s almost the worst thing someone’s said since I got here. No magical bags? What’s the world coming to? And I’m sorry for suggesting that you can only level through killing things. It’s just that… is kind of what it seems like.”

“Oh, Faye, I understand. I do. You’ve been here for such a short time. You must see some of the Galleries. They contain wonders of magic and creation that you would not believe.”

Taveon pointed forward and strode away from the house. Faye smiled and caught up to him. It seemed that once he was on the move he wasn’t to be stopped.

“So, there are artisans and crafters that level through their art?”

“Yes, it’s all, in the end, a matter of perspective… and choice!”

“You’re saying there’s no right way to do it. To level.”

“Exactly!” He pointed at her. “Oh, yes, you’ve grasped it already. There are some that do not for years. When the son doesn’t join the family business, the daughter doesn’t take up her mother’s arms for adventure… these people sometimes think that their offspring are doomed to a life of lower-levelled squalor.”

“I guess they are afraid to let their children branch out, just in case they choose something that doesn’t work for them?”

Taveon shrugged, slumping a little as they walked. “I’m not sure. I tell them again and again that it doesn’t matter what the children do, just that they pursue it with the best of their ability.”

“You can’t blame them, Taveon. Parents are always going to worry about their children. It’s the way of things. And speaking of worry, how am I going to learn magic if I can’t see my system and you don’t want to waste scrolls?”

“That’s what your adventurer friends are going to help us with,” he replied. “I may not be helpless, but I would certainly feel safer with them around, don’t you agree?”

“You remember that Ailith was wounded in her fight with the wolves, right?”

His steps faltered for a moment, before he picked up the pace again. “Yes, yes, of course. That’s why the potion I have with me is designed to help.”

Faye smiled. “You’re a terrible fibber, old man.”

“I shall take that as the compliment it truly is, young woman.”

Thoughts of slinging magic filled Faye’s mind and she couldn’t help but grin.