Varla stifled a yawn. "That honestly depends on your decision. If you choose to go to the guards then I'm going to have to go to the wife and children of the man whose body you possess and tell them that though you look like the same man you are not. There will be a fair amount of yelling and a lot of tears, but eventually, they will understand and have to move on. You might choose to keep in contact with them or you may decide to go your own way. It will be up to you."
"And if you don't go to the guard?"
She leaned forward and smiled. "Well, that's a little more interesting. Your arrival has the potential to solve one of my problems. You are what we call an incarnate. As an incarnate, the law requires our temple to pay you 1,000 silver pieces to help you survive in our world. If you are frugal, that is enough money to live on for three to five years without needing to work."
"Why's that interesting?"
"It is interesting because I am currently trying to hide a familiar from a demon lord, and as you have no connection to anyone in our world, and are not attached to the temple, no one would suspect you or come after you if you bond with him."
I frowned, pausing before replying. "Why would I do that?"
The cat that had followed her inside leapt up onto the table and looked me up and down before rolling his eyes—which looked weird on a cat.
"Do you honestly believe this simpleton can grasp the complexity of the topics involved in this conversation?" the cat asked. His voice was deeper than its size should have allowed. He flicked his black tail, then sauntered over to the wine bottle and casually knocked it over with its paw.
After what had already happened to me today, meeting a talking cat only made me blink. Your brain can only take so many reality-altering surprises before it gives up, throws on its jacket, and heads out to buy a packet of cigarettes. I'm sure it would come back at some point and sort through this mess. I'd probably freak out then, but for now I was simply too confused to be shocked by any new surprise.
The archbishop glared at the cat as her wine spilled across her table. At least it was made of marble and not wood.
Varla picked up the bottle and poured the rest into her glass, still glaring at the cat. "He is the best option you have. And he actually needs your services."
The cat leaned over and began lapping up the wine. Then he looked up and sighed. "Oh, goody. Another despot desperately in need of my genius. I so look forward to teaching him how to pick turnips. How can I refuse such an opportunity? I will—"
It was the way that he said pick turnips that made me interrupt their conversation. "Um, what do you mean, 'pick turnips'?"
The cat groaned. "See, he does not even know what a turnip is."
"I know what a turnip is," I growled, not liking his tone. "I just don't know why you think I'd be picking them?"
"Turnips, pumpkins, carrots, squash; I do not know what sort of level zero crop you will be planting, but it will be one of those, and I do not wish to be a part of any of it."
"Neither do I, I hate gardening."
The cat started to chuckle and then laugh. Finally, he fell onto his back in utter hysterics. "Oh, it is a farmer that does not like to garden. How quaint."
I turned to the archbishop for a better answer. "What's he talking about? Why does he think I'll be gardening?"
Varla frowned, pressing her lips together. "You do realise you're a farmer?"
"No, I'm not even close. I've been on a farm exactly three days of my life and I'll happily not add any more to that."
Varla's face fell. "Oh, dear…let me try to explain. You see, I'm what you would call a cleric. That is my class. It is also my profession. My mother was a cleric and my father was a cleric. And my children are clerics. Your class is the farmer class."
I swallowed. "No, I don't have a class. It's pending." This hadn't come up in my questions. "That's because I haven't chosen one, right?"
Varla shook her head. "It's because you haven't reached your first level. The body you currently reside in belonged to a farmer before he died and lost the experience he gained throughout his life. That means you will be a farmer."
"Can I change my class?"
The cat's chuckle returned to a full-body laugh.
The archbishop sighed. "Classes are hereditary. The only individuals who receive a class not inherited from one of their parents are adventurers. Everyone else must reach level 100 in their current class and acquire a second class."
I could see the pitcher winding up. I'd gotten everything a gamer wanted so here was the curveball. "How hard is that?"
She shrugged. "A farmer does it in our kingdom a couple of times a year. I myself am level 74. I'd be higher, but I chose a quiet life of teaching rather than demon banishment."
That didn't sound too bad.
She looked like she was only a few years older than me. Their world hadn't seen pro-gaming, the endless stats and power gaming sessions that could give someone an edge. Back home, I'd been our team's tactician, which meant I was better than most at learning how to bend and break the rules. If she could reach level 74 by her age, then someone with my experience could do it in a whole lot less time. I could handle spending the next few years leveling my way to 100. And a 1,000 silver pieces would certainly accelerate the time frame. I could accomplish a lot in three years if I didn't have to work.
"You didn't tell me why I should agree to take the cat."
The cat stopped laughing and hissed. "Who are you calling cat, human? I am a familiar. I am a being of power, intellect, and presence, and you…you dirty little cretin, should worship the ground I walk upon."
Varla sighed. "Familiars are a living library of knowledge, this one more so than usual as he belonged to a wizard who was a couple of centuries old. He exists to help. It is in his nature. You could not find a better teacher to help you navigate your way through our world if you tried."
"And all I have to do is agree to help hide him and not press charges against Damella?"
"Yes." She stretched out her hand toward me, flashing me a very nice smile.
Archbishop Varla is offering to bestow her familiar's mark upon you. Would you like to accept?
Yes/No?
I stared at the prompt for several seconds, undecided. There was opportunity here. Varla was giving me access to vast amounts of knowledge and learning. However, there were also risks involved. This strange talking cat was being hunted. She hadn't outright stated it, but I got the feeling this was the sort of enemy most couldn't deal with. "Demon lord" wasn't exactly a phrase you would use to describe something that anyone could easily vanquish. However, she truly seemed to believe that we could hide from it and that it was the best option.
I wavered back and forth, but eventually accepted. It was as easy as focusing on the word and thinking Yes.
Congratulations, you have received a Familiar's Mark.
Familiar's Mark.
Level: ???
Effect: ???
I frowned, confused again. "Hey, why doesn't it show an effect? I've got an effect from having the incarnate title. Why doesn't this one do anything?"
The cat sighed. "It's because you are an intellectually challenged farmer, not a wizard. Your class was never supposed to have access to my kind."
The archbishop's smile became a grin and she clapped her hands together happily. "Excellent, it worked. Now, Arnold, I have a good idea for a safe location where I can send you both. Would you like me to organise transport for you? It will draw less attention and the temple will cover the cost of travel."
You are going on a journey and Archbishop Varla has offered to organise and fund this journey for you.
Would you like to fast travel?
Yes/No?
I chuckled at the prompt. Fast travel was one of the most cliché aspects of video games. You couldn't play a sandbox RPG without running into it. The communication ring had to be glitching, mistranslating the words. There was no way this prompt was accurate.
I selected yes, just so we could move the conversation forward.