Ahrden's eyes flew open as the wind blew through the crown of the trees surrounding the house and made the leaves and smaller twigs rattle. The day was indeed a special one, not just for Ahrden but for everyone in his year. It was that time of the year when the young six-year-olds could decide which class they wished to pursue for the rest of their lives.
The day was as significant as exciting for everyone who participated, even though the weight of their decision was almost too great to bear on those small shoulders. Although the pressure might have been too much for many, the decision was seldom made on this day. After the masters of every class display the true power of the class, they represent every young student pledge their eternal fidelity to the class they choose. Many students will realize during the following years that they cannot pursue what they have chosen. These students will leave the path to become a master, to learn a more ordinary, everyday profession. This happens often, and it is needed for society to function, but going over to another class has never been done or allowed, thus giving immense weight to this day.
The saying goes that the decision is already in every young candidate, and they merely give voice to their sleeping classes; others say it is up to each individual to decide which suits them the most. Generally, most agree that everyone is born with an inherent class that they shall pursue in their life, so rather than deciding what class to take, the young ones are encouraged to learn what they were meant to choose. There were cases where the parents pressured their child into following the class that their long and noble family line pursued. After their child chose the class that the parents wanted rather than what the child truly desired, only suffering followed. Over the many miserable years, all the training and hard work bore no fruit because the chosen class was not that which the kid was born with. Unable to change classes, many of these famous offsprings ended up on farms and in workshops.
Stories like this were the reason why it was so hard for William to stop himself from forcing his son to choose the warrior class and for Rose to see that it would do no good if she were to slowly steer his only son's interest towards what made more sense. Deep down, both of them knew that even their combined efforts would be futile against their strong-willed son, but it did little to lessen their sorrow.
On the other hand, stories like these were the reason Ahrden could ensure himself that it wasn't his disobedience that drew him in this direction but rather faith itself. He was convinced that he had no say in it because he was destined for such a path. Despite all the rationalization, he did feel bad for not giving his parents what they desperately wanted of him, but there really wasn't anything he could do about that.
Ahrden jumped out of his bed on this beautiful spring morning and rushed to get ready. It was still quite cold, the weather being weeks away from warming the morning air, but Ahrden didn't care for such minor inconveniences. He greeted his mother in the kitchen then immediately started eating his breakfast which was already prepared for him. Seeing the fire in his son's eyes, Rose smiled tiredly but also felt a hole in her chest, knowing that today was the last day when she and William could pretend that Ahrden would change his mind regarding the class he would pursue.
Lately, the parents only reassuring thought were that many ended up not pursuing their chosen classes and instead took up other, more traditional professions. These were the ones who didn't follow their hearts when choosing a class or the ones who weren't good at it. In Ahrden's unique case, it would be because he chose a class that no longer existed. She and William comforted themselves that many lived wholesome and happy lives doing ordinary professions and that it would be the case with their son too. It will all be as if Ahrden simply turned out to be not that skilled at the class. This thought alone broke William's heart, but still, this was the most comforting one. Such things often happened, and this case would be just like that…
It was true that many had to do ordinary daily jobs, but they were always looked down on by the ones who were pursuing certain classes. Some even went as far as to say that ordinary workers were considered the servants of the masters. This was thought to be unjust by many, but no one shied away from hiding behind the masters when the war arrived. And the war always seemed to arrive.
No one knew why they were always at war; no one knew what made them this way, but everyone was looking for reasons beyond themselves. No one dared to speculate that everyone was to blame for this. Greed, pride and ego, which time after time always made them take up arms against each other. Since this has been the case since the beginning of history, less and less started to question the cause of it, and the focus was shifted to being more and more efficient in the wars to be the one who got to write the next chapter in history.
It's been uncharacteristically long since the last war waged on their lands, yet no one who survived the previous war seemed to have forgotten it. The last war was so merciless and blood-soaked that over the years, it faded only slightly in the memories of those who survived. Maybe the sight of the countless fallen whose bodies littered the streets and whose blood made the roads muddy for days, stuck to the minds of all who survived that day so firmly that it was impossible to forget over the years that followed.
William remembered holding the limb hands of his mother while futilely pouring the healing potions into a mouth which no longer moved, while the pool of blood under her was steadily growing. He remembered his father's battle cry as he fought back the ambushers at the door. William sought out the secret trapdoor in the corner of the living room and jumped into the small hole under the floor as he was instructed to do in such circumstances. The only thing he was allowed to take down there, the thing he absolutely had to, was his families Book of Knowledge.
It was this book which William placed on the kitchen table as he sat down with eyes sparkling from unshed tears.
'Father...' Ahrden said, who turned sad at the sight of the book he knew all too well. 'You know I...'
'I know, I know,' William said, wiping away the awaiting tears. 'It's just hard for me to not hand it over to my son as my father had and as his father before him had.'
Ahrden didn't like this conversation, which felt like emotional blackmail, but he knew how much this meant to his father, so he didn't object. Ahrden had already heard the story several times how his father hid under the hidden trapdoor for days, with nothing but the book, until his cousins found him unconscious, curled up in a small ball, desperately holding onto his family's Book of Knowledge. Ahrden knew that this was a speech he had to sit through and only hoped that there would be no more after this day.
'Before the Choosing day, I wasn't even allowed to look into it,' William said as his memories bubbled up in him. 'I guess my father didn't trust me enough to believe that I'd choose his class,' William chuckled as he looked back into his past. He didn't mean to hurt his son with this, but Ahrden was in agony, thinking that he must have been the worst son his father could ever have had and how he must be wishing that he instead had a daughter who turned out to be a hunter or even a filthy rogue.
'After the Choosing day when I came home, he was waiting for me at the door with the book in his hand. He didn't even need to look at the sword I received; he could see it in my eyes. He said: Son, this book contains the collective knowledge and wisdom of our warrior bloodline. Every member has learned from this what the teachers didn't teach, and every member has contributed to it his own special part,' William said, visibly drifting off, fully immersing into the memory. 'I went to bed and woke up with this book still in my arms and learned so much from it throughout the years. This book helped me pass my comrades in my class through the voices of my ancestors...'
The story ended, and the silence lengthened. It was an awkward, hostile silence which no one felt like disturbing. Eventually, William came back to the present, shaking off the remaining remnants of his memories. He cleared his throat put the book down, and looked at Ahrden.
'Son, it wasn't easy, but I came to terms with what you feel was meant for you,' his father lied. 'There is nothing worse than forcing someone at the Choosing day, so I'm not going to do that. But know that when you come home, I'll be waiting for you by the door with the book in my hand as my father had.'
With that, William stood up and strode out of the kitchen, taking only the precious book with him. Now it was time for the so far silently standing, Rose to come forth with sparkling eyes.
'You must forgive your father...' Rose said while reaching out and grabbing Ahrden's hands. 'He means well, this is just really hard for him, but he will eventually come around.'
It was tough for William, and Ahrden knew that. His father was one of the best warrior in the Valley and the general of their nation. He had been a pillar member of the governing council of their nation for a very long time now, and his words carried a lot of authority even among the highest circles. He walked the streets with his head high, and people were grateful for having him around, for when the time came for him to go to work, he did more than anyone could ever have. A full-fledged war hadn't waged for a while now, but more minor battles did occur over time. It was crucial to win these clashes because a defeat would make the nation look weak and breed more significant threats, or even a war.
It was said that William more than once turned the tides of such battles single-handedly with his family's famous sword: Duskedge. All great masters named their weapons, but William was fortunate to not have to do it himself. His sword was as old as his family's Book of Knowledge and consequently was handled by as many masters as the book had been written. This blade was the only things he cherished more than the book and tended for it with the most extensive care. He received it when his father died but didn't use it before the Grand Challenge.
Every year it was William who showcased the warrior class at the Choosing day to the wide-eyed youth. It was him to whom all looked that day and decided to pursue the class, and one day surpass the general, but none could fulfil that dream. For a very long time, it was William who represented the most popular class ever to exist, but this year it was going to change. He could endure almost anything, bear the pain of any wound, but could not stand and watch as his son pledged his loyalty to the mage class after his own performance. He could not live with the embarrassment which that would bring him.
'I know that it is not easy for him,' Ahrden said sadly while looking at his plate. 'But he isn't making it any easier for me either.'
'Do you truly feel the calling towards that class?' his mother asked as a last-ditch effort, putting a bitter twist on the last two words.
Ahrden thought he had accepted that his parents would never understand him, but hearing the doubt from his own mother's mouth was painful every time.
'You know, I do,' Ahrden said in a quiet voice that couldn't get any sadder. 'I better get going.'
Ahrden left the kitchen, leaving the half-eaten breakfast behind, which was not touched after his father sat down beside him.
---
The first lecture was history, and Ahrden loved history. He was inquisitive about how the society they were living in came to be and how single figures could alter the future of so many. He was especially keen on the strategies and planning that preceded and later governed the flow of great wars and battles and enjoyed learning how different kingdoms were ruled and which method led to what outcome.
They lived in the Valley, which got its name from the sky-high mountain chain that lined it all the way. This had been the home of their people from the very beginning. There used to be five nations sharing the Valley, making the vast land seem crowded. Ahrden was a proud member of the Polenteus nation and lived in its capital Belentedor. There used to be the Santord and Mentard nations, but after many wars, they became the only two nations to put aside their differences as they merged together, forming the largest nation in the Valley. The Nethedral nation neighboured Ahrden's, and they liked to keep to themselves as much as the Polenteus nation did, and while the Polenteus was known for its great warriors, the Nethedral nation was known for its fearsome rogues. The remaining nation was the Velintenal nation, the most secretive, the most cunning; the dark horse. They were most known for their ruthless ruler Kartesta Malitez also known as the Evil King, who was rumoured to be the only person to wield actual magic in the Valley. Since no one has ever seen him perform any such deeds, it was more likely to be just a myth that birthed from the unspeakable horrors he had done. People could only justify the Evil King's feats by believing that his mind was twisted by dark magic, which granted him unnatural power.
During the history of the Valley, wars were started and ended, and peace treaties were signed and broken. The only constant was the unclenching desire to gain more land by taking it from the others and never making a pact with the Velintenal nation.
In the days of Ahrden's grandfather, the Velintenal nation permanently defeated the merged Santord and Mentard nation, becoming the single largest nation to ever rule in the Valley. That war was the darkest one history itself has ever seen and one which can never be forgotten or forgiven. At the time, the Velintenal nation was the smallest of the four, but they also had no honour or dignity only a ruler who was known to do the impossible. The defeat came in the form of all-consuming fire and a mysterious poison that rendered the air itself deadly. With the aid of forces that people without magic could not govern came the end of the two entire nations after which there was no recovery.
It was around this time when rumours started spreading about the magical ties of Kartesta Malitez. Some even say that Malitez, who ruled now, was the one who performed all those atrocities two generations earlier because his dark magic enabling him to live an unnaturally long life. Since the Velintenal rulers didn't meet even their own people, only on very rare occasions, these rumours were never confirmed or rebutted, leaving the identity of the one who ruled the biggest nation in the Valley in a shroud.
Afterwards, the Velintenal nation took the lands and resources of the defeated merged nations and became the greatest force in the Valley. Everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before they would continue their war against the remaining nations, but none had the will to act before it was too late. The last war, which still lived strong in everyone's memory, was their first attempt against Ahrden's nation, but surprisingly for everyone, it was repelled with blood and suffering.
It was challenging to stand against the most powerful nation ever to be in the Valley, especially because it had no line that it wouldn't cross for more power. Despite the odds, the Polenteus nation still managed to fight them back. Ever since the last crusade, there were only smaller conflicts more to keep everyone on the edge rather than an actual attempt to wipe a nation out. In this prolonged suspense, everyone was afraid that the real bloodshed was just around the corner.
On this particular day, they were learning about a small but fierce battle between the Mentard nation and their own over a small territory within the Mentard nation's border, way before the nation merged with the Santord. The region would have been taken by the Polenteus nation after they defeated the Mentard army, but the Velintenal nation proved that they never truly had much integrity. The battle was about to be concluded with Polenteus army dearly weakened, while Mentard barely had anything left of its forces, when the Velintenal army arrived.
What followed was uncivilized and unforgivable, but the outcome favoured the one committing the atrocity. The Velintenal nation killed everyone on sight and took control of the territory in question. This dispute from a very long time ago showed well how territories changed owners over the course of history and how rewarding it could be to not have honour.
On the Choosing day however, everyone in the classroom failed to just sit at their desks and listen. All students were quietly talking and impatiently waiting for the end of the lesson, and the teacher couldn't blame them. Come tomorrow, everyone here would have a chosen class, and they will dedicate the majority of their time to master this class rather than to study other subjects such as history. The teaching of these different subjects will continue, but the time dedicated to them will significantly decrease. The teacher knew this very well, having gone through the cycle multiple times by now, but still didn't take it well over the past few months as this rebellious movement was slowly building up in all the classes in Ahrden's year. On this day she finally accepted her limits and gave up trying to keep them at bay.
When the class was over, the whole year rushed into another classroom where they'd have their writing lesson. Everyone only had two classes this day because the rest of the time was dedicated to the ceremony, so this became the only thing that separated them from the event they'd all been waiting for since they could walk.
An unusually large number of quills snaped on this lecture, and most of the parchments were so filled with spilt ink that they were basically unreadable. Even Ahrden was making rookie mistakes, too, although he had always been very good at it. He had always loved the feeling and the experience that came with writing on parchments, but on this day, even he couldn't will himself to fully dedicate his attention to the writing exercises.
Finally, the time came for the noisy, excited and laughing six-year-olds to gather behind the school where the Choosing was going to take place.
Slowly the whole school flowed into the arena in the back. Ahrden's year would take the front seats since the entire event was for them, while the older ones who already had a class were farther behind. Unlike at the Grand Challenge, which was their graduating ceremony where it was decided whether they could pursue their class or if they have to take up a profession, the Choosing was closed for the outsiders. Urban legends say that the mere presence of some parent was enough to sway some participant in their decision to choose between classes, which in the end resulted in everyone's disappointment because a wrongly chosen class cannot be fixed later on.
When everyone took up their position, the performance began where a representatives from each class displayed what mastering their class enabled them to do. Ahrden had heard stories that some time ago, Melan the baker also performed in the Choosing. His performance served both as a twisted joke and to further cement in everyone how weak this long forgotten ancient class was. When word started to get out how the mage class was represented at the Choosing ceremony in Belentedor it was quickly shut down.
For Ahrden, this was the first time to see the performances at the Choosing, so for him, everything was normal, but for the older years', it was odd not to see Ahrden's father, William, to be the one to represent the warrior class. Many of the older students solely chose the class of warrior after seeing what William could display. Seeing someone else this year started many rumours. Ahrden was surprised to hear the truth in many cases how his father chose not to perform because his son was planning to choose another class.
Ahrden enjoyed the performance of the masters. It was evident from the first glance that they were incredibly skilled at what they were doing. They've spent their lives perfecting their craft just like many others, and among the many dedicated members, the ones who were performing were exceptional. Ahrden knew what he wanted to pursue in his life, and among all the fantastic things that he saw that day, none came even close to making him change his mind, but he was able to appreciate it nonetheless.
After all the masters had finished their performance came the actual Choosing itself. The three masters stood beside each other with a table next to each filled with the class's signature weapon. Now, every student in Ahrden's year was going to be called. The freshman was to walk up to the master of the class he chose and pledged his fidelity to the class. Afterwards, the master accepted the pledge and handed a weapon to the now apprentice student who would use that for many years to come. For the first few years, no one was allowed to use their family weapons, so this given one would soon become their most prized possession.
Ahrden was nervous and afraid because he knew that his entire life was going to change soon. So far, he was able to convince his friends that he wasn't sure what he would choose but was leaning towards rogue. Now he would no longer be able to maintain his lies. He knew the general opinion about the mage class and how a similar but more focused view would be formed about him once he chose that class.
After the performances were over things became a blurry mess for Ahrden, and the next thing he knew, he was in the line that led up to the three masters. To his left was the hunter class with bows on the table, in the middle was the warrior with a two-handed sword and on the right was the rogue class with two short curved daggers for each new apprentice.
By the time Ahrden got the bearing of things only two students were in front of him and the one at the front was already being called. His name was Bremen, a shy and quiet boy who was always friendly to Ahrden. Slowly and unsteadily, he walked up to the master hunter and barely audible said.
'I pledge my fidelity to the hunter class.'
To which the master replied:
'May you become one we look up to one day.'
Then handed Bremen the bow, who took it and walked to the end of the line behind the master.
Next, a short girl called Delim was called, and she confidently skipped right in front of the master rogue.
'I pledge my fidelity to the rogue class.'
'May you become one we look up to one day.'
It was Ahrden's turn now. The one announcing the names looked up from the paper right at him then down at the paper again.
'Next up is Ahrden son of William.'
Ahrden had no idea what to do now. Asking anyone was never an option, but now that he stood there, he wished he had. Slowly he started walking forward, which seemed as if he was walking towards the master warrior, but halfway there, he came to a stop. His whole face was crimson red, his legs were shaking and he was unable to do anything.
'That is a little too far away, Ahrden, come closer,' the master warrior said in a friendly tone.
Gathering all the nerves he had, he looked the warrior in the eye and said loudly:
'I pledge my fidelity to the mage class.'
Murmurs and small shouts erupted among the students, and the one announcing the names had to step in.
'Calm down, everyone, stay in line,' he then turned towards Ahrden. 'Are you sure that, that is what you wish, Ahrden, son of general William the master warrior?'
'I pledge my fidelity to the mage class,' Ahrden repeated his line, unable to say anything else.
'Very well then, walk to the far end of the field over there.'
Ahrden hurried out of the spotlight, feeling every pair of eyes on his back and hearing every disapproving murmur said behind him. When he arrived at where he was instructed, he turned around and faced the rest of the school again. He did not lift his head up, as he was too afraid of what he might see.
---
News travelled fast, and when Ahrden arrived home, his father was not waiting for him by the door. The tension in the house had been peeking lately, something Ahrden thought would be solved once his parents saw that he was earnest about his decision to become a mage. The days that followed turned out nothing like he had imagined them to be.
William went from being cold to almost frozen; he looked through his son on every occasion when he didn't need to interact with him, while the interactions themselves also became short, to the point and nothing beyond that. His mother, Rose, was better, but not by much. Her behaviour heavily depended on her husband's, which was sealed and thus, she could not get out of this prison of self-punishing. Both of them arrived to the conclusion that the only way that this could have happened was that they had to have made a mistake while they were raising Ahrden. On multiple occasions, Ahrden had to walk into the dining room, while they were openly discussing this topic.
The outside world treated him even harsher, but that didn't hurt nearly as much as what he received at home. Ahrden was young, his personality was still moulding into something permanent, and the days that followed the Choosing didn't help him in the process. However, the real problem was that these initial few days turned into weeks, the weeks then turned into months, and the months then turned into years.
Ahrden had no more cards hidden. His weak lies of maybe becoming a rogue were gone. Everyone saw him now for who he was, but the problem was that no one liked him for who he was because of the class he chose. People didn't forget or forgive him, and his life became this constant battle against the world.
Good. He thought sometimes. It wouldn't be fair otherwise.