Brett and Matilda returned inside the small cottage. Matilda insisted that they finish breakfast before discussing anything important. Then, after honestly one of the best breakfasts he had ever had, she refused to talk until after she had a cup of tea. He wasn't the biggest fan of hot tea, but he wouldn't turn it down. Not if it had caffeine.
Eventually, Matilda came over taking her seat, she sipped and then sighed before speaking. "So you want to know how to get a class?"
He nodded. Cherry had always been always surprised by his patience. She said she didn't understand how so many things could make him angry, but he had no problem waiting for anyone to speak or sitting at the DMV. Waiting for people to talk never bothered him. Though now I am starting to understand why people get frustrated.
"Well, where do I begin? See, skills are closely related to classes, but I can probably explain those later." Matilda mused. "So, to earn a class, you need to prove that you are worthy of it and meet some hidden requirements. Some of the more common classes have public information about those requirements. Some important people know more and get more specialized classes."
She looked at him to make sure that he was listening. Looking down at his untouched cup of tea, she crooked her brow slightly. Taking the hint, he sipped it.
"It's a bit of a debated topic, but no class is strictly better than another. Some are just more specialized. To be specific, they all give the same number of stats and don't change how effective your stats are. They almost exclusively just control what kind of skills you have access to." Matilda continued. "Are you understanding this, dear?"
He nodded again. "Yes, ma'am. Classes are all equal value, just more specialized in effect but the same stats."
He had been listening, but he had gotten distracted staring at Cherry's portrait, which was sitting over Matilda's shoulder. She'd shift every once in a while, and her butterfly wings would cover it, so he'd lean to the other side to get a better look. He wrestled with himself whether or not he should say something, but he couldn't be sure.
He focused back in on what Matilda was saying. "-important to get the right skills; once you get a class, you will automatically receive each skill that you demonstrate mastery of that is compatible with your class. We only have five skills, and it is almost impossible to get one replaced."
Brett shouldn't be surprised by this anymore. Another way this game system was absolutely terrible. Five skills you can't choose?
Matilda started going over classes. It seemed that anything that sounded like it might have been a job title back on Earth could be a class. And when Matilda said classes could get very specific, she meant very specific. After breakfast finished, he kept asking questions. Matilda answered them all, even if sometimes she was shocked he didn't know something as basic as finding someone's chat contact information. Brett was worried about all the things she might not have told him. There were many things that he considered essential information that she totally assumed he would already know.
When lunch rolled around, he still had endless questions, but Matilda's patience was running thin. She let it slip that newcomers were only allowed in the starting house for the first night. As much as it was nice to get his questions answered, he needed to get out there and experience it for himself.
So after lunch, he learned that there was a small town due west. It was a little more than a day's walk, but Matilda was kind enough to give him a blanket and a sack of food. "Whenever you want, come and visit me again. I'd love to hear stories of your adventure. Also, if you ever need to use a shrine, there's one near me; I know sometimes they're hard to find."
She stood waving on her front porch as he left. And even five minutes later, he could still see her silhouette watching him hike away.
***
This walk was far more therapeutic than the previous one. When Brett first walked to the house, he was in shock. A shock that he was only now beginning to process. Sure, Brett had seen a few dead bodies. Everyone did in his line of work, but never anyone he knew intimately. He had even shot at a few people, but no one ever died.
But now he had many other things to occupy his mind. He knew what class he wanted. No, what class he needed. Not something related to his job or what he was good at. He wasn't going to be a small-town sheriff anymore, nor a horse enthusiast or any of his other useless hobbies. I need something to avenge Cherry.
There were a few things that he would need for revenge. He would need investigation skills, but he figured his experience would be enough to get him there. He had a face burned into his memories, and he probably could look up the car's license plates in the driveway if he ever made it back home.
The other thing he would need was the ability to kill. Brett stroked the revolver still at his hip. He had fired five shots but still had one in the chamber. That’s not nearly going to be enough, Brett thought.
Seeing the technology around here, he wasn't even sure if he could find replacement bullets. No, he couldn't count on his gun. He would need his class to let him kill.
There were still a lot of things that he had wanted to ask Matilda but didn't strike him as important enough to slow him down. Like where she got her stove or how she knew what Walmart was. Maybe that was because of Cherry. Brett thought.
The thing was, if these classes were more like professions, it might be hard to find one that fit his needs. He'd have to look at the more seedy side of life and likely would not find anything in sanctioned public knowledge. Brett's current plan was to get to a large city and learn more about the culture and people to find acceptable paths to power. Then he would plan his next steps.
It was starting to get a little late as he walked, and the city had just appeared on the horizon. These grassland planes continued forever, and he had yet to see even a hint of wildlife.
