Roland Imrem, Classless Farm Hand

Hi, this is my first story on this website and I hope it is acceptable. This is gonna be a slow burner for the first few chapters with hopefully a big pay off for the wait.

"Our Lord tells us that He began classless, working the fields of what would become His capital. This teaches us that all may rise if they have the talent and drive, even those who seem worthless and without quality." - Excerpt from the Sacred Scriptures

Roland cracked his back with a sigh as he straightened up, raising his hand to shade his eyes as he glanced around. The harsh glare of the midday sun was unusually intense for this early in the year, even this far south. The frontiers were known for their harsh winters and summers both, but this year the winter month had been milder than most, so they probably should have anticipated the coming summer to be a scorcher. Either way it's not like he'd be getting any time off so after a short rest Roland got ready to get back to tilling the fields.

"Oi Hacky, any chance of us getting in on that shade? It's starting to get well warm out here." One of the other farm hands, a new lad Roland noticed, called out to the shade of the nearest barn, where an elderly man with greying hair sat, head back and hat covering his face.

"Don't bother Ant, he's out for the count. You'd be better off fucking a Valkyrie than getting the old man to get up and help." One of the other farm hands called back. Roland noted the new lads name as a round of chuckles went around the field. The Valkyries were the Queensguard, and famously frigid and uptight, which of course led to them being a source of great lust and desire among the common folk. It didn't help that after centuries of selective breeding and aesthetic biomancy treatment, all of them were absolutely stunningly gorgeous.

"Ah sure if he's that out of it I reckon we could rush 'im, see how far we could get with the gold that sword would get us. I reckon we'd get a mansion or two between us, and live the rest of our lives drinking and whoring to our hearts content." Ant called out, which led to another round of chuckles and "Hear! Hear!"s. Not that any of them would even dream of rushing the old man.

Harick Halmonsonn, Ex-Justice of the Crown, rumoured to be over level 70 and, according to some less reputable sources, namely Jervis down at the pub, having past level 80 before retiring. He was one of the highest level individuals in the Kingdom, if not the world. He had been part of the band of five to repel the Necromancers invasion some 60 years ago, saving the realm and solidifying himself as one of the Heroes of his time. Now he spent his twilight years overseeing the Frontiers in case some new threat came from the Southlands. There hadn't been a new Calamity level threat in over 30 years, well before Roland himself had been born, so the Queen let him basically do as he pleased since there wasn't much use for him in the capital. If the farmhands tried to rush him, they'd be cut down like the wheat they were sowing before any of them could bat an eye. Because he was Harick Halmonsonn, Ex-Justice of the Crown, and they were Classless.

Roland turned back to his work as a well of bitterness rose within him. Classless. Deemed worthless by society. Rounded up and shipped off to the Frontiers to toil away in the fields to feed the colonists sent south to explore the Southlands, aptly named for being south of all the known world. Those with Classes got to explore south and reap the rewards of the past kingdoms and empires that might have left behind their treasures, and the Classless got the gift of being able to use their otherwise worthless lives to assist the greatness of the Kalovian Kingdoms.

Roland spat on the ground at the thought of the Kingdom and its "generosity", when suddenly a shadow fell over him. Roland swallowed heavily as he worked up the courage to look up at what had cast the shadow onto him. Standing imperiously above him was Harick, hair more silver than grey now that Roland got to see it up close, his chiselled jaw was set, his eyes betraying a calmness that the rest of his body did not reflect. For lack of a better word, the man was heavy, but not in an unkind manner, more like if he started walking, there'd not be much in the world that could stop him. He had presence, filling up any space he occupied not just physically but like he commanded the space that he didn't occupy . His massive two hander of a sword strapped to his back didn't even look that large on his back, but Roland knew intellectually that it was over 5 foot long.

"Did the dirt offend you?" It took Roland a second to realise that he'd just been addressed, and another for his brain to work out that he should probably respond.

"Uh, sorry what?"

"The dirt. Did it offend you?" This time when Harick asked the question Rolands brain finally managed to unravel the question enough to form an intelligent response.

"Uh, no sir. The dirt didn't- sorry what sir?"

"If the dirt didn't offend you then why did you spit on it?" It was almost as if Harick could tell that Roland had been thinking about the kingdom when he'd spat on the ground, it's not like any number of the other farm hands didn't spit a buckets worth over the course of the working day, and it took every effort in his body not to freeze up completely. Harick looked him up and down before turning with a grunt, and as Roland breathed a sigh of relief and blinked, Harick was already back in his seat, settling in as he placed the hat back on his face to return to his nap.

Roland looked down at his shaking hands as a different kind of sweat to the one he'd worked up from the tilling dripped down his back. Had he almost died? He wasn't sure but he knew one thing, that was one of the most horrible experiences of his life, the helplessness, the feeling that he could have been cut down without a second's thought. He tightened his hands into fists as he resolved to do everything in his power to never be in this position again, to gain a semblance of power or control in his life.

For just a second he felt a sense of, was it approval? It passed as soon as it arrived and the adrenaline left Rolands body in the same moment, leaving him tired and wondering what he was thinking a moment ago, he was Classless, what was he going to do against a of nature like that?

With a newly heavy heart and grim outlook Roland returned to his work.