Dungeon Noble - Squire

Jake eyed the Triarchy guards controlling the flow of people outside the Ascension hall with distaste. Like so many others, Jake had turned eighteen last year, which meant that today, the first day of the new year, he could receive a Class.

If the Gods willed it.

For as long as history was recorded, Ascension Obelisks were found at the centre of any settlement larger than a village, placed by the Gods themselves.

Those who were eighteen or older and touched an obelisk were judged by the Gods, and the worthy were granted a Class.

Port Emerald was more than large enough to have such an obelisk, and today was Jake’s day. He would be judged, and maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to escape the downward spiral his life was doomed to follow.

“Wait,” the Triarchy guard at the head of their group barked crisply, holding them in place as a few pale-skinned Triarchy natives were escorted past Jake and the others.

“Fucking trikes,” someone behind Jake muttered, and he repressed the urge to nod and spit to one side. The guards around them were Classers, and from their pale skin and blue eyes, they were triarcheans as well.

Jake had no idea what Classers could do, so he made sure to not even think of the derogatory term, not when he was this close to his own Class.

Jake’s line continued to wait as the children of the rich and powerful within the city were also escorted past them.

No matter how influential their parents might be, those pretentious fucks were strovian, just like Jake, and that put their worth below even the lowliest of the triarcheans born in Jake’s homeland.

“Forwards,” the guard stated, his gaze measuring them one by one as they started past him once more. “Hold.”

The guard’s left hand came down behind Jake, stopping the next in line from advancing, while his right pushed Jake forwards, sending him stumbling inside a small waiting room.

There were eleven other candidates alongside Jake inside the room, which held a single exit that was guarded by an imposing Triarchy guard.

A glance at the others around him revealed a mix of social statuses were present, everyone from those just a little too poor to deserve the expedited entry to those in a similar ragged state as Jake.

As a strovian orphan, Jake had been cared for by a Triarchy-funded orphanage until today. If he didn’t gain a Class, he was on his own. This was the last stop before true poverty and starvation.

There were opportunities for those like him, of course, but they were few and far between, and those that couldn’t get them had to live on a knife’s edge.

The door in front of them opened after a few moments, a new guard beckoning them forward before turning and walking away.

The small group followed the guard in silence down the short corridor, eventually emerging into a large room that held little more than the obelisk at its centre.

The Obelisk was maybe seven or eight-foot tall and half as wide. Physically, its dimensions weren’t that intimidating. What caught Jake’s eye, however, were the glowing runes that ran along its surface. Each rune shed a pale grey nimbus of light that filled the room and presented an eerie atmosphere.

"Step forward one at a time and touch the Obelisk. Once you have received your judgement, head to your left if you have a Class or to your right if you don’t. Any attempts to deceive us will be treated as treasonous activity," a guard recited formally, not even a hint of emotion in his voice as he threatened them.

The only crime worse than treason in the Triarchy was heresy, and both came with the death penalty.

After some initial hesitation, they all took turns stepping forward and touching the Obelisk. Two of them were illuminated in a grey flash, but most of the others were ignored and then escorted away by the guards.

Those that were illuminated seemed to be confused and abruptly tired after touching the Obelisk. Jake could only assume it was something to do with them gaining their Class.

Stepping forward, Jake licked his suddenly dry lips as he reached out and gently touched the cool stone of the Obelisk.

Grey light flashed once more, blinding Jake for a moment as he reeled back, feeling as though someone had reached into his head and scrambled his mind.

Class Received, System activated.

Greetings, Jake Khesh. Welcome to the System.

Your soul is currently being merged with the Class you have received. You will be able to access its details once this is complete.

Your Class has been determined by the Khesh bloodline, and you are now a Dungeon Noble. Your current status is a Tier I Dungeon Noble - Squire (I). Further information and Class benefits will be activated once the merge is complete.

Good Luck.

A foreign voice spoke to Jake in his mind, the intent of the message passed to him in the blink of an eye.

As the voice faded, Jake felt his energy being sapped away by something, making him stumble a little as he tried to move away from the Obelisk.

It felt as though there was some void in the core of his being, sucking every bit of energy he had from his body.

“This way,” a guard muttered in Jake’s ear, all but dragging him away somewhere. Disorientated and off-balance, Jake didn’t follow what path they took, only getting his bearings once they were stopped.

The guard had brought him to a different room where several tables were lined up. Numerous objects were scattered across the tables, but it was the blood on the floor that drew Jake’s eyes. Fresh blood.

“Pick up the items, one by one, and hold them for at least three seconds each. Do not rush, and do not skip any items,” a new guard stepped into view, the three-circle symbol of the Triarchy emblazoned proudly on his clothing.

“What is happening?” Jake asked, stumbling over the words as his mind struggled to adjust.

“Start with the first item, please,” the official said, ignoring Jake completely.

“What…” Jake started to say, but the guard who’d brought him gripped his shoulder tightly before pushing Jake forward.

Grimacing and feeling like he was going to throw up from the abrupt motion, Jake reached out and touched the first item, a hammer bearing an odd mark.

Picking the hammer up, Jake looked over to the official for guidance, but they waved for him to continue. Placing the hammer back down, Jake started to make his way through the other items.

Weapons, tools, books, pendants, the range of items on display was vast, but each of them bore a symbol of some description, though no two symbols were the same.

“No reaction,” the official noted as Jake finished the first table of items. “Moving onto the second batch of heretical artifacts.”

The guard behind Jake pushed him forward to the next group of objects, ignoring Jake’s harsh intake of breath as he realised what was happening.

This was a test of his Class.

The Triarchy forbade the worship of any gods other than the three they worshipped. Anyone with a Class linked to a god that wasn’t one of those three would be killed out of hand.

Jake reached out with trembling hands to lift the next item, a bowl filled to the brim with crystal-clear water. Despite his shaking hands, the water didn’t spill at all. In fact, it didn’t even move. Something about the lack of ripples within the water made Jake uncomfortable, and he placed the bowl back down as quickly as he could.

Jake was finally starting to clear out the cobwebs in his mind; his thoughts weren’t so sluggish or jumbled now. The voice that had spoken to him had said his Class was Dungeon Noble, which didn’t sound religious on the face of it. It did sound strange, however, and was apparently linked to his bloodline.

“No further reactions. Take him through for secondary processing,” the official said in a disappointed tone, making Jake realise that he’d finished trying all the objects. Placing the last one down, which was some sort of metal zig-zag shape that tingled against his skin, Jake obediently followed the guard out of the room.

Jake was feeling almost himself again by the time they reached their destination; in fact, despite the lingering problems with focusing on anything, he felt physically better than ever.

Conscious that he was being watched, Jake did his best not to let this revelation show to his escort. The Triarchy were ruthless when it came to anything religious, and Jake had no desire to draw their attention so soon after that test.

For all he knew, some of those artifacts had a delayed reaction, and this was all still part of the test.

“Inside,” the guard growled as they reached a closed door, pushing it open with one hand while shoving Jake inside with the other.

“Greetings, Citizen, please, take a seat,” a new official wearing the insignia of the Triarchy said to Jake as he stumbled in. The official was sat at a table and gestured at an empty chair opposite him.

Jake eyed the open book in front of the official and the quill that he held at the ready. He knew what was coming now. Resignation swept through him as he sat down where he was directed.

“Excellent, thank you. Now, congratulations on successfully Ascending and gaining a Class. I’m sure you haven’t had the chance to integrate with it yet. However, that will finish soon enough. In the meantime, would you like to divulge the nature of your Class?” The official turned the page in his book and dipped his quill, tapping the excess ink off as he waited for Jake to respond.

“Erm, no, thank you,” Jake said, shifting uncomfortably at the frosty look that the official gave him.

“Very well, but please be aware that we are offering a modest congratulatory gift of a dozen Wyrdgeld to any Classer who discloses their Class,” the official said, putting a small pouch on the table next to his book and loosening the tie that held it shut.

The glint of blood-red coins and the subtle scent of crisp, clear air grabbed Jake and dragged his attention to the pouch, though there was an odd metallic undertone to it as well.

Wyrdgeld was the currency of Classers, which only made sense as it was drawn from the corpses of monsters by the Classers that killed them.

Non-classers used ingar for their day-to-day transactions, so Jake could only imagine how much wealth such coins could bring.

The lure of the money was strong, and if Jake had a straightforward starting Class, he would have taken it. He didn’t, though. His Class was from his bloodline and had ‘noble’ in the name.

Neither of which was good to reveal to the people that had conquered his country. Any chance of Jake either being killed or enslaved on the spot when they found out what his Class was meant that he had to resist.

“No, thank you,” Jake repeated, more firmly this time.

“Very well, so be it,” the official sneered, whisking the money from the table and writing something in the notebook. “Now. Name, place of residence and next of kin?”

“Jake Khesh, the Emerald Orphanage and no kin,” Jake replied, ignoring the heartache he felt from such a simple statement.

“Hmm, that will have to do,” the official said with a sniff of disdain. “Now, the Triarchy is always keen to support new blood from the colonies. Accordingly, you have three choices. Military enlistment, a working bond or citizenship. Enlistment lasts for a minimum of ten years, the bond is for five years, and citizenship is one hundred Wyrdgeld a month for a tier one Classer. If you choose citizenship, you are given the rest of this month as a gesture of goodwill but will be required to pay the citizen tax on the first day of next month.”

Jake stared at the official in something approaching disbelief. None of those options sounded good, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.

“Citizenship, please,” Jake said eventually, having no desire to work in one of the camps or serve in the military.

“Very good. Please note you have until the first day of next month to pay one hundred Wyrdgeld to maintain your citizen status,” the official said with a nasty smile. “Sign here.”

Jake took the quill and read the declaration that the official had laid out, it seemed right, but he was a bit overwhelmed with all this.

Still, it wasn’t like he had any other option; a Classer had to be a citizen to live in the Triarchy, and non-citizens were exiled or killed.

The moment that Jake finished signing, he felt a shiver run down his spine as the contract settled into place.

Attention - You are now bound and marked as a Citizen of the Triarchy. You are contractually obliged to pay one hundred Wyrdgeld within thirty Days and then every month thereafter. Breaking this binding will remove the Citizen mark.

The voice from before spoke into Jake’s mind, making him wince in pain as he felt something new settle onto him. He’d known this kind of heavy tax was coming, but it still felt like a chain around his neck.

It wouldn’t be so bad if Jake even had an idea of how much money he was going to be paying them. If a dozen was an incentive to give up information, then one hundred felt like it would be a problem.

“Thank you, please bear in mind that the System enforces signed contracts between Classers. When you need to pay the money, please visit your local Triarchy administration centre. Have a nice day,” the official said, donning a fake smile and ignoring Jake as he was escorted away.