Sarah's Story Chapter 011 - The First Brawler

Sarah’s mother smiled softly. “Welcome back, my precious daughter.”

Sarah sat up and smiled back. “Thanks Mom.”

“Well?”

“I… didn’t choose a second class.”

Helen’s eyebrows rose incredulously. “Really? At all?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t choose one. None of them would have helped.”

[Brawler] Class chosen. 1/2 Classes chosen. Please select a Class.

The thought remained in the back of Sarah’s mind but she studiously ignored it, refusing to acknowledge the dream world that couldn’t help her.

Helen stifled a laugh. To think…

“Mom?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s just… to think you’d be so much like your great-grandmother.”

“My… great-grandmother?”

“Yes, my grandmother. You never met her. She lived in a village, and my mother moved to another village to be with my father, and I left that village to be with your father. But in fact…”

Helen leaned in slightly towards her daughter with a smile.

“In fact, she was the very first Brawler.”

Sarah’s face was blank at first, then she frowned slightly, furrowing her brow.

“Huh? The first Brawler? What do you mean?”

“Exactly that, the first Brawler. Before your great-grandmother, there were no Brawlers, and the class didn’t exist. She created it.”

“Wait, hang on.” Sarah interrupted. “You can just create classes?”

“No, Sarah, you can’t just create classes.” Helen replied. “Classes are not such trivial things that they can just be dreamed up on a whim. But, just like you, your great-grandmother couldn’t find a second class that she liked, so she lived for years with just the one.”

“What class was that?”

“Wife.”

“Huh? Wait a minute…” Sarah blushed. “T-that’s not a combat class, is it?”

“Well…” Helen teased her daughter a moment. “No, it’s not exactly a combat class, at least most of the time.”

Sarah covered her face with her hands. “Mom…” she groaned.

Helen giggled. “She really did love my grandfather… But perhaps the only thing she loved nearly as much as him was fighting.”

Sarah lowered her hands from her face. Helen looked up at the ceiling, reminiscing. She continued.

“Yes, she loved fighting. Growing up she would get in scraps every day, or so I was told, and she sparred with everyone: unclassed children, newly classed young adults, even the men of her village well practiced in their arts, although I’m sure they went easy on her. She just loved the thrill of it. And when it came time for her to choose her classes, she refused to pick just one. She couldn’t stand the thought of giving up the sword, or the lance, or the bow, or the rock, or anything. She wanted to do it all.”

Helen refocused her gaze on Sarah.

“For years she lived with only the one class, married to my grandfather, raising their children.”

“But,” Sarah interjected, “how could she do that, living with only one class? I mean…” the words died on her lips. She couldn’t bring herself to talk about her brother’s mistake.

Helen nodded. “Yes, and for most people, or rather, for anyone but your great-grandmother, this would have been a huge problem. And it’s why nobody who knows that new classes can be created talks about it, because for most, it would only lead to pain and anguish. But for her… she simply loved fighting that much. She could stand her own against anyone. I remember visiting her and listening to her talk about how she had trained even the adults in her village, despite not having a combat class herself… And of course about all the barfights.”

“Barfights?” Sarah asked.

“Uh…” Helen hesitated. “Well, you’re a Brawler now, no point in hiding it. Yes, the barfights. Your great-grandmother, though she wasn’t such a heavy drinker, spent a lot of time down at the bar. Of course-” Helen clarified, “she dragged her husband with her. But she loved the atmosphere and the attention. And of course, people can get pushy and rowdy with a few drinks in them… And she’d take them down and just have a grand old time of it.”

Sarah thought back to her tankard of ale in the dream world. “I see…” she muttered.

Helen cleared her throat. “Ahem. Yes. Anyway, she simply didn’t choose a class for ten years, and then one day at breakfast she told her husband that she had found a second class that she liked and taken it: Brawler. It was totally new, and it developed new skills rather slowly for a combat class, at least for her. But when my mother took the class, just seven years later, it was solidified and just like any other combat class. Except better, of course.” Helen grinned.

Sarah felt awkward for a moment, then remembered why they were talking about this in the first place.

“So you’re saying, I can develop a new class too?”

“Well…” Helen trailed off. “Maybe. Probably not, to be honest.”

Sarah sighed. Helen continued.

“Instead, you’ll probably find a class that already exists that you simply couldn’t choose for some reason. For example, you probably couldn’t become a Smith, right?”

“Uh, actually, that was an option.” Sarah answered.

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

The two women looked at each other questioningly.

“But, you can’t become a Smith without having entered a smithy before.”

“Yeah, I went to visit the village smith before. I asked everyone in the village for advice about picking classes.”

“O-oh. Uh, I see.” Helen stuttered before continuing with her point. “W-well, my point was that some classes cannot be chosen without meeting certain conditions. Wait, was Knight one of your options?”

Sarah looked at the ceiling and thought for a moment. “No, it wasn’t.”

Helen smiled. “Okay! Well, for Smiths, they can only choose the class if they’ve been in a smithy before, and anyone who’s ever entered a smithy can become a Smith. For Knights, they have to have worked as a Squire under a Knight to be able to choose the class. So what’s more likely than creating your own class, is that you’ll eventually meet some condition to choose a class you like. Who knows? Maybe even Wife.”

Sarah blushed again. By this time, the sun had fully set and the room was well and truly dark.

“Well come on, let’s have dinner.” Helen stood up from the chair, and Sarah climbed out of bed. Had she really spent the whole day basically laying in bed?

It felt… vaguely wrong. She shook her head, shaking away the thought, and followed her mother downstairs. Her father was tidying up the kitchen by candlelight. At the sound of their footsteps entering the room, he met his wife’s gaze and they shared a look.

Helen blinked, with a soft smile on her face, and Stephen gave a sigh of relief. After years of marriage, they didn’t need words.

But he was still shocked when Sarah told him not only did she not choose the Avenger class, but that she had declined to choose any second class.

He was so glad his wife, his wonderful brilliant wife, had insisted Sarah choose Brawler as her first class, before anything else.

As his heart rate settled down and they were nearly finished eating dinner, Sarah turned to him.

“Dad, I’m going to figure out how to find James.”

Stephen nodded. “Yes, of course dear.”

“I’m leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”

He choked on his drink.

“I-in the morning?” he stammered as Helen dabbed at his shirt with a napkin.

Sarah nodded. “Yes.” Her resolve was clearly evident.

Stephen sighed. His youngest child was an adult now. Where had all that time gone…

He then turned to Helen, who returned his gaze placidly. “I can’t hold you back any more, can I?” he asked.

“That’s right.” Helen responded firmly.

“Huh?” Sarah was confused.

Helen made no move to answer, so Stephen turned back to Sarah and explained. “Your mother has been extremely patient all these years, staying home with me and you, but in truth, she’s wanted to set out after James this whole time. And now, as of today, you’re an adult, Sarah.”

“I’m going to find my son.” Helen declared.

Stephen smiled wearily. Sarah shifted her gaze back and forth between her father and mother.

“But, Dad…”

Stephen turned to Helen. “Promise me that you’ll come back at least once a year, or when Sarah is more capable than you to find James, and that you’ll write and let me know where you are and that you’re safe and well.

Helen nodded firmly. “I promise.”

“I love you.” Stephen gazed into Helen’s eyes.

“I love you, too, dear.” Helen gazed back, full of determination.

“Uh…” Sarah didn’t know where to start. Her mother turned to her.

“Of course, I’m going with you, Sarah. We’re going to get James back.”

Sarah felt like she couldn’t keep up with the conversation. “Where are we going, then?”

Helen giggled. “I thought you were the one ready to leave first thing in the morning?”

Sarah blushed, and Helen continued. “We’re going right to the center of things. The capital.”

“The home of the Headquarters of the Adventurer’s Guild.”