Survivor: Definitely Not Minecraft

You have been assigned as the mentor of two new Hero candidates. Their current locations and descriptions have been added to your journal.

As a mentor, you must guide the candidates in the development of their skills and the necessities of survival. The role of a mentor is one of utmost importance. Their fates may hinge on the quality of your advice, and your conduct in this role will factor heavily into your potential induction into the Hierarchy.

Objective: Guide your mentees until they are eligible for assessment at level thirty.

Reward: Essence infusion.

Secondary Objective: Keep the candidates alive for the duration of their tutorial.

Reward: Unique Formula

Fladnag was supposed to have been my mentor, and that hadn’t gone the way it was supposed to. I wasn't an ideal candidate for showing them the ropes, but there was no one else. The heroes were all gone. I was sure of that now. Everyone but me and two fresh recruits. David was off doing his own thing, and Harmony was taking his intervention in stride.

"You get to pick?" Leto was leaning against his mother, staring at her screen with a look of concentration. Esmelda was sitting cross-legged on the ground, and for her part, appeared bemused.

"It seems so," she said.

"Pick what?" I asked.

"My class," she said, then bit her lower lip. "There are seven choices."

Seven? I was only aware of five varieties of heroes. David was a shape-changer, Fladnag was a healer, and Nadia was a sorcerer. Then there were Survivors like me and whatever Frodo had been. Was seven a complete list, or only the options that Harmony thought were appropriate for Esmelda?

"Go over them with me," I said, stepping over to Gastard. He was still unconscious, but there was color in his face and he was breathing normally. David had implied that he was having a conversation with Mizu or some other higher entity. Good for him. Torgudai was watching us, but he hadn't moved to approach, and the other Atlans were all over the place, but keeping their distance.

Esmelda tapped her sign to dismiss the screen and removed her comb so she could run her hands through her hair.

"This is too much," she said. "The goddess has chosen me. It is something I never dreamed of."

"Well," I sat down in front of her, "David chose you, and I think Mizu is just going along with it."

"Still," she frowned, "I have been blessed. But such great power comes with such great responsibility…why are you laughing?"

"Sorry," I got myself under control. She had never seen Spider-Man. There was no way for her to know. "You're right, it is a lot. My choice was made with limited information, and I wish I'd asked more questions. What is the System telling you?"

Esmelda rearranged her hair, pinning it up again, and the act seemed to center her.

"Not as much as I would like. Barely more than a list of names. It's maddening to think I am meant to select a path for myself when I know so little. There was a welcome message about classes and levels. It was all arcane to me. But what was clear is that whatever I choose will decide the course of my future."

"You're going to get powers?" Leto asked. "Like Will?"

I wasn't in love with the first name thing, but he'd called me dad while facing down a dragon, so I would take my wins where I found them.

"Looks like it.“ I said. “I can help with understanding the basics. Did anything jump out at you from the list?"

Esmelda brought up her screen again.

"Medium. It says 'One who is attuned to the flow of essence and the memories of those that are gone.' Disciple of the Bow, that one is straightforward enough. Shifter, Sorcerer, and White Mage have details that sound like the heroes of old. Can you imagine? I could be like Lady Nadia and Lord—-," her face fell, "well, not like him."

Fladnag had lost his way, but a dedicated healer was invaluable in any adventuring party. That was a crazy thought. If Esmelda and Gastard both gained classes, we really would be a party of heroes.

"That was five," I said. "What are the other two?"

"Tamer says 'for those who would make friends in all places.' A few lines about training pets to be powerful companions. Heir is the last." She paused as she looked over it before reading the full description aloud.

"The blood of kings of kingdoms lost. Leader, diplomat, and ranger, this class is as adept at building lasting alliances as rallying a kingdom to war. They are as at home in the wild as the city streets. A well-rounded hero with aspects of DPS, utility skills, and social combat. What is DPS?"

"Damage per second," I said. It was the first time I heard such a shamelessly gamified term in one of the System's descriptions. "Are you thinking about that one?"

"It seems relevant. We have a kingdom to lead. The Medium made me more curious than anything. But it's also vague. I'm not sure I would want to commune with spirits. Or what spirits there would be to commune with. In the Shui, it's written that those who come to the end of their time in this world do not linger. I think they believe in ghosts in Drom, but I do not."

Souls existed. So there could be ghosts, but from the impressions I had left of my original conversation with Mizu, I didn't think most people hung around after they died. Heroes were a special case. A higher power had to make an exception to keep bringing someone back. My feeling was that most souls didn't retain who they were in life. I couldn't prove it, wasn't sure why it felt so true to me, but I didn't think Medium would allow Esmelda to speak to her mother or anything like that. She didn't think so either.

"We can assume Gastard is going to come back with a fighter class," I said. "Even though I do a lot of fighting myself, Survivors are meant to be support. We can do a lot of things, but we aren't the best at any of them. We’re supposed to be handing out equipment and potions. If you picked the archer, I could craft you a nice bow." I shrugged. "I'm partial to White Mage if that's the healer class. We got lucky with the milk and with David. We may not be lucky again."

Esmelda nodded seriously, and Leto pointed at her screen. "If you were a Shifter, you could turn into a dragon too."

"Not right away," I said. “She'd have to start with something a lot smaller. Like an owl."

"An owl?" Leto's brows pulled down. "Why an owl?"

"I don't know. It was an example. Any class she takes is going to start small. She'll have a skill or two and have to develop them over time."

"I like your class," Esmelda said. "It wasn't included in the list."

"There's probably a bunch that weren't included. We don't need two crafters, though. Does the Sorcerer tempt you?"

"No," she shook her head. "Though I know it comes from the goddess, it is too close to the magic of demons."

"Tamer classes in games are really powerful," I said. "If I had picked something else, I would have gone with the Tamer." I’d had that thought before, but I had the Tamer skill, which was likely a watered-down version of what the class could do, and hadn’t utilized it well. We didn’t even have a dog. Maybe I was better off going the way I had, though it irked me that Mizu hadn’t made it seem like a viable option.

"We could get a dog," Leto said, lighting up. We were clearly on the same wavelength there.

Esmelda squeezed his arm. "We can talk about it. But I don't think Tamer is what I want."

"Do you have to choose now?"

"It says I have until nightfall to choose, or the selection will be made for me. Something about unbound essence being dangerous."

Gastard grunted and raised an arm. He held his gauntlet up to the light and flexed it. We jumped up and had him surrounded in the next second.

"Can you stand?" Esmelda asked, as Leto hovered.

"Hey, man," I said, "you got superpowers?"

"I have seen the face of Gotte," Gastard's voice was low and rough, "and it was not what I expected." Still lying on his back, he removed the gauntlet and revealed his tattoo. It looked like a heavily stylized cross, with many extra flourishes, but easily recognizable.

"In what way?"

"He had only one eye."

"You saw a god?" Leto's eyes widened. "What was it like?"

"Strange," Gastard let his hand drop and sat up. “It was like a dream. I cannot see his face in my mind, only the eye. It was full of stars. His words, I think there was so much more to what he said, but it is lost."

"You didn't see Mizu?" Esmelda asked.

"No," he shook his head. "I have never prayed to her."

"What did he tell you that you remember?" Forgetting things seemed to go hand in hand with being reborn. Gastard hadn't died, but he'd been a hair's breadth away from it. I suspected that the memory loss was intentional. If everything we did here was a divine test, then being stingy with the instructions was a part of it. They wanted to see what we would do without strict instructions. At least, that was how I rationalized the lack of clear guidance from entities that should have been able to answer all of our questions.

"He gave me a choice that was hardly a choice. There was only one path I could accept." Gastard brushed his hair back from his eyes and felt a spot on the side of his head. A sizeable lump. He frowned, feeling it, then shook his head.

"I am a Templar." It sounded like he could barely believe it.

"You already were," Esmelda said.

"No," Gastard rose easily, as fresh as if the battle and the fog had never touched him. "I was a man who struck down a demon, but I see now that there was more to the old order than I believed."

The fingers of his left hand hesitated over his elder sign. "I have seen you do this. Does it truly only take a touch?"

I nodded, and he summoned his own screen. We gave him a moment to examine the message to himself. It would have felt rude to read it over his shoulder. His mouth thinned, and after a long pause, he asked a question.

"Where is Fak?"

We were all equally nonplussed. Esmelda's head quirked, her lips parting slightly, and Leto narrowed his eyes as if he were trying to recall his most recent geography lesson.

"Fak?" I said. "I don't know. What's up?"

"It says, 'Knight of the Realm Fak.' If I am to be a knight of the realm of Fak, I must first know where it is."

I stepped around. Invasion of privacy or not, I had to know what he was talking about.

"It's not Fak," I told him, "it's FAQ."

Then I turned around and screamed into the sky.

"YOU GAVE HIM A FAQ?" I was steaming mad. This was bull. The System still hadn't given me anything in the way of a training manual, even though I was supposed to be training two new heroes. If they could put that kind of thing on your Status screen, why hadn't I gotten one?

My entire coping mechanism for being okay with being kept in the dark about how things worked was that there was a big mysterious reason for the powers that be treating me that way. But apparently, the rule didn't apply to Gastard. I considered yelling some more, but I'd startled Esmelda and Leto both. My son had frozen in place, and Esmelda looked genuinely concerned.

"Sorry guys," I said, "I'm just mad at a god."

Gastard raised an eyebrow.

"FAQ stands for frequently asked questions. Select that, and it should tell you about your class. It sounds like Knight of the Realm is the official name for a templar."

"Templar is better," Gastard poked at his screen, grunting when it flickered and produced a lengthy scroll of information. He shook his head at the onslaught of data and tapped his hand again to turn it off.

"I'm not in the mood to read. How long was I asleep?"

"Not long," Esmelda rested her hand on his upper arm. "We're glad to have you back."

"And I am glad that you are all well," Gastard looked around the field. "The monster is gone. The Atlans are lurking. We left men behind us. What is the plan?"

Torgudai chose that moment to walk toward us. "We are still at truce," he called.

"Agreed," I waved.

"The Great Eagle let you live," the orkhan appeared to have regained some of his stamina. "More than that, he blessed your friends."

"Did you know he wasn't an eagle?"

Torgudai shrugged. "What is flesh to a being such as that? The Great Eagle takes whatever form suits him. He is still the Great Eagle."

There was no reason to argue the point.

"We're going back to Mount Doom," I said. "I don't suppose you could lend us some horses, maybe a shaman or two?"

"You have proved yourself to me. If any shaman walks with you, I will give them my approval. But I will not command them to do so." He smiled. "Horses are another matter. Those I will command."

Half an hour later, we had left Salenus behind. After drawing and redrawing several rough maps in the dirt, we had agreed on the fastest route home. We weren't retracing our steps to collect the soldiers and followers we had left behind. Gastard was miffed about that, but Torgudai had promised that the people I'd brought with me into Atlan would not be harassed. They would have a hungry trip back into Dargoth, but they could make it.

Despite Torgudai's tacit approval, Erdene did not elect to accompany us. Though the healing potion had put her back on her feet, she claimed that her spirit was worn from the events of the last several days, but that she would be willing to work with me in the future if I returned to Atlan. It was a disappointing outcome. However, with two new heroes at my side, I no longer felt that bringing a shaman home with me was my only hope against Bojack. The Atlans would still be a resource to draw upon in the larger battle to rid Plana of demons.

As for the plains people's campaign against my empire, Torgudai had agreed to put a pause on hostilities until I was back on the Throne of Shadows or dead or one month had passed, whichever came first. There didn't seem to be any hard feelings about how many people were lost in the battle with Batu's tribe. The Atlans lived harsh lives, and they had a unique perspective on violence.

Losers weren't allowed to hold grudges. Torgudai might have felt differently if he had lost his son, but as Batu had returned to him alive, he blamed the young man for mismanaging his warriors rather than me for killing them. They were a people that would take some getting used to. We discussed a few other details, and he asked me to affirm my promise that I would stand with them against the demons. Then he gave us two sets of horses and sent us on our way.

Gastard initially tried reading in the saddle, but we were running the horses nearly at their limits, and it was not working for him. Even with two horses for each of us to allow them some rest, we might not make it back to the mountain before the curse rendered me an invalid. But we had a Knight of the Realm with us now, and whatever Esmelda was going to be.

"Sun's getting real low!" I called, and Gastard slowed the pace from a run to a trot to a full stop over the course of a few hundred yards. We were still in the grasslands, but the Storm over Dargoth was beckoning us on. I'd recovered most of my torches, so we could keep moving through the night if we had to. But everyone needed rest, and Esmelda needed to decide.

"Heir," she said. "It feels right."