The Chimera Summoner – ch 17 – Part 1
Ch 17–
I caught some stern words from my next professor, one of the few male instructors--Bernsley. He reprimanded me for being a couple minutes late but then simply sent me to find a seat.
Apparently, with the labyrinthian layout of the floating fortress, a few late arrivals were expected on the first classes.
It was made clear to the whole class that, now that we knew where he was, he expected us to be early.
Jennie had saved me a seat by her, and looked suitably exasperated and embarrassed by association when I sheepishly took it. I received a sharp elbow jab, after attention went back to the professor.
The middle aged, dark haired Bernsley turned out to be a pretty chill guy, after that. He was an artificer. He basically ran the school's item economy, setting prices in tokens for goods brought from the dungeon. Likewise, he controlled the market on crafted items sold back to the students.
He emphasized that it was meant to be a synergistic relationship where students who were Dungeon focused could sell the random loot they would inevitably acquire and reliably earn gear more fine-tuned to their specific needs.
In exchange, crafting focused students got much needed materials and experience tailoring to a Wayfinder clientele.
As we leveled, and developed our classes, those needs would only become more specialized.
“When you find a crafter who makes what you need, treasure them!” He grumbled. “It’s a relationship that will not only save your life, but let you both rise to heights otherwise unattainable."
He was a passionate guy, and his words had me raring to get into the Dungeon and get to earning tokens, so I could start gearing up.
I remembered I also had familiars to equip, and the imaginary dragon’s hoard of Loftys I would need grew multiplicatively.
He spent the rest of the time laying out what we’d cover in class: gear, evaluation, and some of the economics of Wayfinding. We would all need to become experts on gear and materials to some degree, or we’d be negotiating blindly both buying and selling.
“What happened to you?!” Jennie demanded as we filed out of class with our peers. “Do I have to drag you to each class to make you show up on time?? That’s twice! Out of two!!”
I threw up my eyebrows. “Woah! Two? I think you are forgetting that I actually made it to the first class nearly one seconds early.”
Jennie glared.
“I got… delayed.” I explained, shifty-like.
Jennie glared.
“I got DELAYED.” I waggled my eyebrows, and did a little shimmy, revealing my lack of a bra.
Jennie went tomato red, stared straight ahead, and marched full speed. I trotted to keep up.
“Don’t try to play blushing princess with me.” I griped.
“Come to class on time. You’ve been warned.” She said, voice a little higher than normal.
“Or what, Daddy?” I inquired, unbuttoning my top shirt button.
She didn’t take the bait.
Just made a sound like a kettle about to boil.
Which I counted as a win.
The rest of the day was spent finding classes and listening to lesson plans. Except for Brawly’s class, conditioning, which we learned was going to be a grueling experience DAILY rather than twice a week like our other lessons.
She hit us with some stark realities, with her typical cheer, as we ran. And ran. And ran, and ran and ran.
“Your stats grow by five, each Level!” She yelled.
She beamed at us, fresh as a spring daisy and she sprinted beside our beleaguered pack, like a sheepdog. The lunatic was wearing full plate armor for gods’ sake.
“Only two of them are flex points!” She answered for us. “They can go into what you need most! Here’s the big thing. Here’s the difference between good and great! This is the only important lesson in the school. Stop running! Look at mamma Brawly!”
We halted gratefully and generally sucked wind like out of shape doofuses, even though most of us thought we’d trained hard before Bayloft.
Brawly looked us each in the eye, one at a time. Her serious demeanor caught my attention hard, coming from the professor who was generally a happy golden retriever.
“Levels are easy at the beginning. You can make your first ten in the first month. Twenty-five in the first year.” She said slowly. “Listen. You’re going to get some easy Levels while you’re here. It is unavoidable. To get ahead, you gotta go get the hard ones. You gotta do some extra sessions. You gotta work yourself. That last one? It’s WORK. You have to want it bad. You have to be insane to get it. Dogmatic. Dogged. Got that dog in you. Woof woof! To do it consistently, you have to be obsessed. Listen to me. Obsessed.”
She nodded around at us, a smile breaking back out.
“You can be a fine Wayfinder with the easy levels. Go to classes, Dive when you're supposed to, kill some monsters. You’ll be level fifty when you graduate, give or take.”
There were some whistles.
“But then your progress will flatten out.” Brawly continued. “You’ll join an ok guild, do some ok dives, make an ok living, live an ok life. That’s ok. Being an ok Wayfinder is pretty good. We make more money, get to see more of the world. It’s dangerous, but you’ll have the skills and the Skills you need.”
Brawly nodded around at us. “But you’re Bayloft students. You didn’t sign up for ok.”
I saw backs straighten, and determination blossom in the girls all around me.
“That’s it.” Said Brawly, approvingly. “I see your fire. Stoke it. Guard your fire jealously. Tend it, and it will carry you through the long, grueling, boring work of being the best. Some of Wayfinding is extremely sexy. Obviously.”
She indicated herself happily.
“But some of it is running in a circle one more time than you want to.” She shrugged. “Let’s get to it.”
We ran faster.
I gritted my teeth and mentally resolved to set my alarm earlier.
Eir
Human
Lv 3 Chimera summoner
Body: 3
Mind: 5 (3+2)
Spirit: 7 (3+4)
Attribute points: 6
Skills:
Familiar call (2/2): Lucy, Lorna.
Chimera assimilation (2/2): (Tempest Strike), (Spectral Waltz)
Paramore's mending (1)
It was going to be a lot of early mornings and late nights for me. Probably for a long time.
“Have you budgeted out your ideal point allocation by level Eighty?” Asked Jennie, at my side and we trudged to the dining hall, weary but motivated.
“Uhhhhhh.” I went wide-eyed.
Jennie groaned. “You’re just winging it?!”
I shrugged, “You can respec your bonus points at every level. So I have a long time and a lot of opportunities to experiment and change my mind.”
Jennie shook her head exasperatedly.
We joined the soup line. I was a little surprised she joined me, since we now had a handful of tokens from the day’s classes that could’ve easily covered another meal. But I wanted to spend 100% of mine on gear, and it seemed Jennie was on the same wavelength.
“I need more mana regen right now, to get my head above water.” I said defensively. “My Class doesn’t exactly lend itself to a clear, well-known stat spread. I’ve got familiars, a special attack, an invulnerability dash, and healing that runs on its own, perverted resource. We can’t all be Body one tricks..”
“I’m not a one trick.” Said Jennie flatly, accepting a big bowl of soup and leading us to hunt up a table.
“What’s your final allocation of points?” I challenged. “Two thirds Body, and split the rest between Spirit and mind? A little more Spirit than Mind?”
Jennie mostly did physical attacks, but Spirit would enhance her stealth and any special attacks she picked up. Mind would help fuel her endurance, and help her perceptions keep up with her speed.
“Fine, maybe you know what you’re doing.”
Jennie scowled and slurped some soup.
I raised a brow. “It’s a bit hot for that.”
She scowled and took a bigger slurp.
“If you get burned, I’m healing you, right here.” I threatened.
She scoffed. “Oh noooo, not healing.”
“Remember the noise you made last time?” I asked, pointedly.
Her moan had been loud and distinctly sexual.
She went scarlet and carefully blew across the steamy surface of her soup.
“That’s what I thought. Good girl.” I said, grinning smugly.
She carefully ignored me.
We found a two person table, and dashed to claim it.
“You really should put some thought into it though.” Jennie said, after a while.
“Stats?” I asked.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “Talk to Brawly. Or Valant. They’d know what you need.”
I hummed. I did want to pick Valant’s brain about the meaning of my exotic Class and Patron. She seemed to know more about that whole situation than I did.
Jennie went a little quiet and withdrawn.
I squinted at her suspiciously.
“What?”
“You think you’re going to have a full party of Familiars?” She asked neutrally.
I frowned. “Where’d that come from?”
“Answer the question.”
Ok…?