2: Temple of Guiding Light

As I sat there, Elder Peter approached me after finishing his conversation with Amanda, who had many questions about what was to come in her future. The only other person still seated was Gemma, quietly reading over her own status screen and abilities.

“Worry not, young Trevor,” Elder Peter said kindly. “Fate has a path for us all. Today, yours took an unexpected turn, but only you can guide it forward. When we return to the temple, we will give you a room to rest in while I consult the archive for more information. If you’d like, you can also speak to the cooks at the temple for advice. They make humble meals, but I’m sure they can help guide you.”

I kept my gaze downward, muttering, “Thank you, Elder. I appreciate the help.”

A smile touched Elder Peter’s face. “I assume by now you’ve looked into the details of your class and abilities?”

“Yes, Elder,” I replied, feeling the weight of disappointment in my voice. “But there was no further information. It said the same thing as when I touched the orb. I get six stat points on level-up, and the abilities seem fairly basic.”

A look of surprise crossed his face. “Six points is quite significant. The common classes only get three, after all. Would you mind showing me your sheet? If you’d prefer to keep it private, I completely understand. But I would like to help you through this.”

Seeing no reason to decline, I shared my status screen with him. He studied it for a moment before murmuring, “Curious,” and then looked back up at me. “We’ll investigate this further at the temple. For now, it’s almost time to leave. Follow me.”

I followed Elder Peter, joined by Gemma and Amanda. I never even managed to see my friends again before we left. I found it odd but assumed they had already left for their respective lodgings, eager to begin their own paths. As we walked away from the Academy—my home for the last ten years—a sharp pang of loss pierced my chest.

When I first arrived, I never thought I would care. The Academy had taken us all in as young children, adopted or brought in from families too poor to feed us. In the end, we were all orphans in one way or another; it was our only home.

I always assumed I wouldn’t look back. But now, as I left, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was leaving my dreams behind. I had gotten what I wanted. A rare class. Right?

In my ten years at the Academy, I had never seen another student receive a rare class, but now here I was. At first glance, though, it felt inferior to a regular cooking class.

Logic told me a rare class couldn’t be worse than a common one, but that didn’t erase the disappointment I felt.

Lost in thought, I didn’t even realize when we reached the Dunhearth Medical Pavilion. Elder Peter greeted an elderly woman and introduced Gemma, explaining that she had received the Cleric class. Gemma nodded, and the woman escorted her away.

Leaving the pavilion, we continued our walk toward the center of the city, heading for the Temple of Guiding Light—a grand stone building that dominated the skyline. After a short walk, with Amanda peppering Elder Peter with questions along the way, we reached the town square where the temple stood.

Walking inside, I was struck by the sheer grandeur of the place. I had seen the temple from the outside before, but I’d never had a reason to enter. In the center of the main hall stood a massive statue of a woman draped in robes, her hands open in a welcoming gesture. Hallways extended to the right and left of the main chamber, while rows of pews faced the statue where worshippers could sit and pray. The entire place felt suffused with quiet reverence.

Elder Peter, noticing our gazes, spoke up. “The Goddess of Fate, the one who guides our paths.”

“Wow,” was all Amanda managed to say, her voice filled with awe.

I said nothing, simply staring up at the statue, lost in thought about what fate had in store for me.

We walked deeper inside, and Elder Peter called over a fellow priest, instructing them to take Amanda for her Deity test. The priest led Amanda away, leaving me alone with Elder Peter.

“Well, let’s get you settled,” he said, guiding me toward a hallway. “I’ll find you a room first, then introduce you to the cooks. If you’d like, I’ll need some time before I can search the archives for information about your class.”

I nodded in agreement, my mind still reeling from the orb’s revelation.

Elder Peter showed me to a small room—barely furnished, just a bed and a small chest for belongings. It was humble, but I appreciated the privacy. After a moment, I followed him to the kitchen.

“Martin, this is Trevor,” Elder Peter introduced, motioning to a portly man in a stained apron. “He received a cooking-related class today. We’re unsure of its specifics, but we were hoping you could show him around the kitchen and possibly give him some pointers.”

“Absolutely, Elder,” Martin said with a wide grin. “A cooking-related class, you say? Did the child get Field Cook or something?”

Elder Peter chuckled. “No, Martin. He got a rare class—the first I’ve had out of that Academy in all my years. He’ll be here while I search for any information we may have in our archives about it.”

He turned to me, a look of reassurance on his face. “I’ll seek you out, Trevor, once I find more information. Take care.”

With that, Elder Peter left, leaving me alone with Martin, who was now eyeing me with curiosity.

“Rare class, did he say? Rare cooking class?” Martin asked, as if the idea were still sinking in.

“Yes, sir,” I muttered.

Martin eyed me for a moment before asking, “Well, boy, why does it look like someone took your favorite toy away from you?”

I hesitated, then shrugged. “I was really looking forward to a combat class, sir. It’s what I had trained for.”

Martin’s expression shifted to something more serious, and he let out a short laugh. “Nonsense. Why would anyone want to risk their lives every day? Now, show me those abilities.”

I opened my status screen and showed him the abilities page. Martin studied it for a while, his brow furrowed.

“Yes, these are different from a regular cook’s,” Martin mused, tapping his chin. “Let me show you around the kitchen. Maybe we can get you doing some prep work. Get some experience, level up, and see what else this class might have to offer.”

I was guided through the kitchen and introduced to the basic tools. There was a small stone oven, a pile of firewood, a large stew pot next to the fire with a lid, and a big stockpot.

Next, Martin led me into the cool room, explaining that a mage specializing in ice donated their time every three months to recharge the enchantment that kept the room cold, thus preserving food more effectively.

Finally, we arrived at the butchery room. As soon as I entered, there was a strong smell of iron or even copper in the air, along with the unmistakable smell of rot that seemed to claw at me as I took a breath.

“Ah, yes, you get used to it,” he said, completely unfazed. “Here, we butcher meat donated to the temple. We give any salvageable furs to local businesses, and we use the meat for meals. Waste materials are disposed of through that door, feeding them to the local animals,” Martin explained, pointing to a back door.

Walking back into the main kitchen, Martin continued, “The bread for today is finished and cooling. We just need to prepare the stew for tonight. Since you have Basic Meal Prep and Knifework skills, I’ll have you dice some vegetables, if you’re willing.”

He pulled over a small sack of tubers. “Have you ever cooked before, boy?” he asked conversationally, pulling out some tubers and grabbing a few knives to work with.

“No, sir. I’ve only ever cooked very basic campfire bread and roasted meat during survival training,” I replied.

Before I knew it, a small knife was placed in my hand, along with a large tuber.

“Right, well, pay attention. First, we want to remove the skin from these tubers,” Martin began, slicing off a very thin layer, just removing the outer skin. “Be sure to watch your hands when cutting, so you don’t cut yourself. Once it’s skinned, we want to dice it into medium-sized chunks like this.”

Martin finished dicing his tuber before tossing the pieces into the pot.

“Right, your turn,” he said, looking over at me.

Taking the tuber in hand, I tried to copy what I’d seen. Quickly, I realized I was having a much harder time. What was coming off wasn’t the thin skin, but large chunks, and while Martin had turned the tuber, taking the skin off in one long strip, mine was just little pieces. I heard Martin chuckling next to me.

“Don’t worry, boy. We all start there, even with the skills. Keep at it while I get the other veg ready, as well as browning off the meat.”

With that, I got back to work, slowly trying to peel the tubers.

In the end, by the time Martin returned to see my progress, I had only peeled, cut, and diced five tubers, and they did not look good. I hung my head, expecting to be called a failure. All I knew was combat; this was too much.

“Not as bad as I expected,” Martin said, looking over my work. “Don’t worry, boy, let’s get these done. Another thirty or so, and we’ll have the stew started.”

With that, Martin joined me in peeling the tubers. After a few more, I started to relax and daydream about the what-ifs, wondering how my friends were doing.

Lukas had gotten the class he was after.

I should be excited for him, yet I couldn’t help but feel some jealousy. And George—he’d already be in the barracks. Would I even see him again? Unless assigned to guard duty, the military recruits had little free time and rarely left the barracks. Lost in my thoughts, I lost track of time.

Martin broke me out of my daze.

“Finish that one, and we’re done. And look, you’re clearly getting better! That one doesn’t look like a hatchet peeled it!” he said with a laugh, throwing the last of his own tubers into the pot.

“Now that’s done, we’ll leave it here beside the heat to cook until early evening,” Martin instructed. “Remember, never to place a stew directly over or next to a flame—otherwise, it will rapidly boil and burn, wasting all that food.”

I just nodded. Taking a moment, I checked to see if I had earned any experience for the task. To my dismay, I was still at 0 for my class, and under Meal Prep, I was also at 0. My Knifework, however, was showing 20 experience.

“Ah, excuse me, sir,” I said, “but how do you earn experience as a cook? Do you need to kill monsters?”

Martin chuckled. “No, silly boy. You get experience through preparing and cooking. It’s not much, but it all adds up over time,” he responded.

This confused me.

“I didn’t get any experience for Meal Prep or my class. Is that normal?” I asked.

This grabbed Martin’s attention, a small look of confusion crossing his face before it quickly vanished.

“I wouldn’t worry, boy. Maybe the class didn’t recognize what you did as enough. Go rest for a few hours and come back this evening; I’ll show you how we serve up.”

With that, I left the kitchen, returning to my room. As I passed the main hall and the statue of the Goddess of Fate, I saw people kneeling before it, praying. Deciding I had nothing better to do, I took a place in front, knelt before the statue, closed my eyes, and prayed.

“Dear Goddess, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this path, or where it will take me, but I certainly hope there is a plan. And I hope you will guide me through it.”

I didn’t get a response, but I never expected one. Gods don’t speak to mortals.

As I got up to continue heading back to my room, I caught a faint smell of roast chicken. How odd. I didn’t remember seeing any roasted meat in the kitchen. I pushed it to the back of my mind and continued on, part of me hoping to spot Amanda—just so I’d have a familiar face, someone to talk to, even if we weren’t close back at the Academy. However, I wasn’t that lucky.

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After resting my head for a short while, I heard a knock at the door.

“Young sir,” a voice called from the other side, “Martin wants me to tell you dinner will be served shortly.”

“Ah, sorry, thank you. I’ll head straight there.”

Shooting up from my bed, I left the room at a brisk walk, heading back towards the kitchen.

Maybe I’ll get experience by serving the food? I thought.

As I entered the kitchen, Martin spotted me immediately, despite the place being a buzz of activity.

“Over here, boy,” he called out.

I headed over, and he said, “Right, tonight you’ll shadow me. Just go where I go. Be careful of those around you. We’ll need to get that stew off the coals, check the seasoning, and then take it upstairs to the dining hall before we dish it out.”

I just nodded along, a bit overwhelmed by the flurry of activity in the kitchen. Next thing I knew, the pot was being pulled off the heat, and a spoon was placed in my hand.

“Right, taste it, boy.”

Doing as I was told, I took a spoonful—and, as I should have expected, burned my tongue.

 

You have suffered 1 HP damage.

 

“Damn, burnt tongue,” I muttered.

Martin just laughed. “You have to let it cool a little first. Well, you won’t really be able to taste the difference now, but what we’re doing is tasting it before adding seasoning. We don’t want to over-season it. Just remember, you can always add more, but you can’t take it out, and nobody likes an overly salty stew.”

With that, Martin took his own spoon, tasted the stew, and added a small handful of salt before grabbing a second spoon and tasting it again.

“There we go—perfect,” Martin stated.

I went for a second taste anyway, despite my burnt tongue, but Martin stopped me.

“Clean spoon, boy. Get another, or wash that one.”

I apologized, fetched a second spoon, and tasted the stew again, letting it cool this time. The flavor was completely different.

“Did you really only add salt to that?” I asked, surprised.

“Just salt and pepper. You’ve really not had many food options if this is surprising you,” he said.

“Sorry, sir… we didn’t really have that much at the Academy,” I muttered, feeling embarrassed.

“No problem at all. Let’s go, put your spoons in that wash bucket over there,” he said, pointing to a bucket full of water, “and follow me. We’ll take this upstairs. My fellow cooks have already taken the bread up.”

Martin lifted the giant pot, not even showing a hint of strain, and carried it out of the room into the dining hall.

The room was large, filled with long communal tables. Off to the side was a section with a large stack of bowls and bread already piled high on a tray.

“Right. What’s going to happen is the clergy will come up and grab their own bread and a bowl. You are to ladle one large spoonful per person,” he instructed.

“And don’t worry, I’ll be here to help.”

With that, I was passed a ladle, and a line started to form.

The service period passed in a blur. I didn’t even see Amanda—maybe she wasn’t hungry after the testing.

Martin took over after a short while, before passing it back to me to finish up.

I was then handed my own bowl and a bread roll. Sitting on the bench, I ate my food and absentmindedly looked over my status screen.

 

Hit Points: 139/140

Mana: 50/50

Stamina: 110/140

 

I was down 30 stamina from the effort tonight, but more importantly, I was still at 0 experience for both my class, and the skill Basic Meal Prep was also sitting at Experience: 0/100.

While I was still lost in my thoughts, I was startled as Martin sat across from me with his own food.

“Any luck with the experience, boy?” he asked, tearing off a chunk of bread.

“No, none yet. I’ve used 30 stamina. I gained 20 experience in Knifework earlier, but nothing for tonight,” I responded.

“That’s interesting. Usually, as cooks, we get experience for preparing, and a small amount more when serving. But I wouldn’t worry too much about it; we’ll get it worked out. The Elder said he was looking for information in the archives for you. I’m sure he’ll come back with a full write-up of what you can expect from the class.

“Once you’ve finished eating, you can head to bed. If you’d like, I can wake you for the breakfast service. It’s a bit early, but maybe you’ll gain some experience if you take part in the full preparation rather than just a portion,” he explained.

I just nodded.

“It’s worth a shot,” I said, feeling a little disheartened.

Heading back to my room that evening, I saw Amanda emerging from a different passage that branched off the main hall. She quickly noticed me and joined me as we walked toward the rooms.

“I’ll be leaving the town,” Amanda said, shooting me a smile. “They tested me, and I’m an Acolyte for the God of Harvest. They said I’d be joining a caravan to Elarith Vale, joining the Temple of Life. It’s so exciting! I’ve heard it’s led by an Elf. I’ve never seen an Elf before.”

“That sounds amazing. I hope the temple’s just as wonderful as this place. It’s so large here, I never really appreciated it until today,” I replied, trying to encourage her.

“They told me it’s even larger! Apparently, it’s centered around a massive tree, with a statue carved into its trunk. I can’t wait to see it!”

I admired her excitement, and wished I could feel the same.

“Oh, this one’s mine,” Amanda said as we passed the rooms. “If I don’t see you before I head out, come say hi if you’re ever in Elarith Vale.”

With that, Amanda entered her room.

As I continued on, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d be the only one from our group left behind in Dunhearth. That thought was the last thing I remembered before I collapsed on my bed, and sleep took me.

Before I knew it, there was a knock at my door.

It felt like I’d barely slept. My thoughts had kept racing, from my skills to my lack of experience. Would I forever be Level 1? Was that even possible? All these questions ran through my head as I looked for my clothes.

That’s when I noticed the temple had provided me with a new-ish tunic and trousers. They were slightly oversized, but in good condition.