Davi’s mother, Bruna, greeted them with a complete match of Davi’s tireless energy. She never stopped moving, always doting on them, putting things in order, tidying and straightening. He would have picked her out of a police line-up as Davi’s mother, despite how she didn’t look much like him. She was a tall, thin woman, with her hair in a tight gray bun. “Oh, Zilly, how wonderful to see you, too! Have a seat, no, don’t worry about a thing, breakfast is already done. And Brin! We haven’t formally met but Davi’s told me a bit about you.”

She seated them at an impressive dining table, which was so far completely clear. Brin had a certain mental image of a farmer family’s dining room, but this was something else entirely. The long dining table was a work of art. The smooth surface was made of different shades of wood all stuck together perfectly in geometric shapes, while the legs were stylized into feathered lions. Griffons, maybe? Somehow it all worked together in a very elegant way. The rest of the dining room matched the table, although the black iron standing lamps and the hardwood china cabinet gave it a distinctly Bavarian feel. Davi might not have Brin’s ridiculous allowance, but obviously his family was far from poor.

Bruna came back with three plates of eggs, steak, and mashed mato for the three of them. It looked absolutely delectable, and they’d gone a little harder than usual on their workout that morning, so Brin was famished. Bruna waved them to start, and he tucked in without a second though.

“How do you like your yogurt, Brin? Sweet or savory?” asked Bruna.

At his surprised expression, Davi said, “Mallowsweet or pork?”

“M-mallow, please,” said Brin.

Davi shrugged. “Your loss.”

Bruna came back to the room with three glasses of yogurt. Thicker than milk, but he could see it was still thin enough to drink rather than eat with a spoon. Yogurt! Of course they would have that here. He should’ve thought of that. Hogg paid extra to have someone deliver milk all the way out to his house every morning, so Brin had never had to visit a dairy.

He took a sip, and yeah, it was marshmallow-flavored. Surprising choice, but honestly pretty awesome. At least it wasn’t mato-flavored. Zilly and Davi had both gotten pork, apparently Bruna already knew their preference.

“Have you ever tried pork flavor? Come on, take a sip,” said Davi.

“Uh… I was raised better than to turn my nose up at any kind of food…” Brin started. He gave Bruna a nervous glance, but she smiled encouragingly so he kept going. “... but that sounds absolutely terrible, Davi. Why subject yourself to that? You should treasure yourself more.”

Zilly burst out laughing so suddenly she sprayed yogurt on the table. Bruna seemed amused rather than offended and tossed her a rag to clean it up.

Bruna called the rest of her family down, and served them breakfast as they took their places at the table. Davi’s father, Alvir, was stocky like Davi but a half foot shorter than his wife. Apparently Davi was a middle child, with two older sisters and two younger brothers.

The two sisters were sixteen and eighteen. Both of them had Callings, which told him that parents didn’t kick out their kids the second they got their Classes. He had assumed as much, but it was nice to have a confirmation.

The family was boisterous and happy, which Brin didn’t really know how to deal with. They all talked over each other, two or three conversations going on at once, and while Zilly chimed in like she was born to it, he didn’t really know how to contribute so he stayed mostly silent.

The conversations were punctuated by loud, wall-shaking laughter when someone made a joke. Their humor was different. Bruna would ask Davi’s brother, “And will you be helping the [Carpenters] today?” and he would respond, “Yes, and when I go I’ll have a duck on my head!” to which everyone would explode with laughter.

Brin didn’t get it. If he had to explain, he’d say that it was probably funny because he said there would be a duck on his head, while people don't normally have ducks on their heads. He knew enough to laugh along when everyone else laughed, though, so he didn’t make a fool of himself.

He looked down at his breakfast. Half the steak was left, he’d saved the best for last, but for some reason he was having a hard time finishing it. There was a lump in his throat.

Right. This was probably the first time he’d been around people since he’d arrived in this world. Not just people, but a family. They were kind and welcoming and he’d never felt so alone in his life. He’d had something like this once, too.

He forced himself to take a bite. He needed to eat to build muscle, after all.

As breakfast got over the family trickled away, and Brin, Zilly, and Davi went off for their daily lessons. The other two talked happily the entire way, and hopefully didn’t notice that he couldn’t manage to do more than grunt an occasional affirmation.

Today they were with Oleg the [Wheelwright]. They entered a workshop that didn’t look much different from the [Carpenter’s] place that he’d worked at so often. There was a big table saw, and all sorts of tools for cutting, sawing and sanding, as well as lots of work tables.

The [Wheelwright] himself hadn’t arrived yet, so the children milled around, murmuring conversation. Myra didn’t march up to him and start in with the insults as usual. She stayed on the other side of the room by herself, looking subdued.

The door banged open and a cheerfully dressed man sauntered into the workshop. He wore reds and blues, including a matching striped hat with a feather. He had a spring in his step. Maybe something good had happened to him? Or maybe he was always this chipper. Brin couldn’t imagine it; that had to be exhausting.

Oleg the [Wheelwright] put his hands on his hips. “Wow, we have a good-looking bunch of young adults here today. Is everyone excited to learn about making wheels?”

The children grunted affirmations.

“I can’t hear you!” said Oleg, making Brin hate him immediately.

The children shouted “yes!”, several of them perking up noticeably. Well, he couldn’t blame them for it. Wait until the thousandth time a public speaker pulled that trick, and they’d be as sick of it as he was.

“The [Wheelwright] is an evolution of [Carpenter], so we’ll be starting off the day talking about lumber,” said Oleg.

He went straight into a lecture about the collection and preparation of lumber, and Brin realized he’d been wrong before. Woodworkers absolutely did need to worry about getting materials. They had to find the right kinds of trees, and they needed trees that were tall and wide and not too twisted and gnarly which could be a chore in this forest. Then they needed to get the logs into town, where they seasoned it, cut it, sanded it, and basically prepared it about seven different ways before it was ready to be used.

Brin had to give Oleg his due, he made the lecture interesting. He asked questions and got the kids involved, and explained things in a way that was on the children’s level while also still being interesting to Brin’s adult mind. Still, he wasn’t in the mood to be impressed with someone, so his original opinion that Oleg was an annoying kind of person stayed firmly in his mind.

It turned out that a lot more went into making wagon wheels than Brin had assumed. They had to be extra strong to account for the ridiculous loads they used them for. And there were no trees big enough to cut the whole rim out of; instead it had to be locked together perfectly from several different pieces. Each piece had to be exactly the right shape and every wheel needed to be exactly the same size. Oleg claimed that a [Carpenter] needed a whole week to make one wheel, while he could make an entire wagon in a week.

“So. [Wheelwright], not [Carpenter]. Did you notice? Can anyone tell me why the more specific your Class is, the better it is?” asked Oleg.

“Well that can’t be true,” said Brin. “Toros is just a [Smith], and he’s one of the highest-level people in town.”

“That’s a little different. Toros needs a broad Class because he needs to do the work of the entire village. If he couldn’t work with iron, for example, then we’d have no one else to ask. But if he could focus on just one thing, he’d be much better at it.”

“What about [Spinner]? It’s specific, but [Weaver] is obviously the stronger Class,” said Brin.

Myra glared at him warily, but he didn’t mean anything bad by it. It was just a useful example.

“Ah, you see? Not that useful unless what you want to do is spin, in which case [Spinner] is the better Class. Not very good at low levels, perhaps, but I know of high level [Spinners] who can literally spin straw into gold.”

The children gasped, impressed. Brin couldn’t help but start to think that [Spinner] might not be that bad of a Class to get after all, until he thought about the “high level” part. How high of a level? Because being high level in any Class could make you rich. And how much gold could they produce per day? If Lumina could spin straw into gold, she probably wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be worth her time.

Could [Spinners] manipulate thread the way [Weavers] could? Did they have any self-defense abilities? Because if not, they’d just get locked up by some [Noble] or [Bandit] or something and forced to work all day for free. Come to think of it, isn’t that exactly what happened in that fairy tale?

He thought about asking some of these questions, but honestly Oleg wasn’t really a bad guy. Brin was just in a confrontational mood. He didn’t need to be a pest.

After the lecture Oleg guided them in making little wagon wheels of their own, about two inches tall, using some of his carpenter tools. It was surprisingly complicated, but Oleg guided them through it with admirable competence and patience. The end result was a neat souvenir and he got a notification when it was done.

Through training you have increased the following attributes.

Dexterity +1