No Class Found

Kesh adjusted the helmet's seal and felt the new militia scout armor respond. The weight distribution was perfect—lighter than standard armor but reinforced where it mattered. Movement in it felt natural.

Carl had outdone himself.

The detection array hummed faint against Kesh's temple. It tracked ambient mana signatures within a certain distance and flagged disturbances that didn't belong.

Right now, it showed nothing but snow and stone.

Kesh moved through the abandoned village with Jonson and his crew flanking wide. The place should have been salvageable. Walls still stood and the damage to the building wasn't bad but something felt off. He kept on investigating a bit further and finally understood why something felt off. He hadn't found any bodies.

Kesh had seen draugr attacks before. Draugr killed and moved on. They didn't clean up after themselves.

This was different.

"Still nothing," Jonson said quietly from his right. The young man held his rifle steady.

Kesh nodded and kept moving.

The refugees they'd pulled from the treeline two days ago had been terrified. Twenty-three people fleeing south, claiming a horde had torn through their village at dawn. They'd described the usual—pale shapes and a relentless advance.

Normal draugr behavior.

Except this one detail.

They took the bodies.

Kesh reached the village center and stopped. Scorch marks blackened the stone where someone had tried to set a defensive fire. Broken weapons lay scattered near overturned carts. Blood stained the snow in dark patches.

But again no corpses.

He crouched near one of the blood trails and studied the pattern. The stain led toward the northern road, smeared in a way that something being dragged away.

Kesh followed it.

The trail continued for thirty meters before stopping at a wider disturbance in the snow. Multiple drag marks converged here, all heading in the same direction.

North.

Toward the Waste.

Kesh stood slowly and activated his radio. "Foroughfore command, this is Kesh. Acknowledge."

Static crackled briefly before Edda's voice came through. "Go ahead, Kesh."

"Village is confirmed lost," Kesh said. "No survivors found. Multiple signs of combat, but I see no bodies."

A pause. "None?"

"None," Kesh confirmed. He glanced back at the drag marks. "It looks like the corpses were removed deliberately. All trails lead north toward Waste boundary."

Another pause, longer this time.

"Understood," Edda said finally. Her tone was calm, but Kesh heard the edge beneath it. "Return to Foroughfore , I'll radio Rurran and let him know."

"Copy," Kesh said.

He released the transmit button and looked at Jonson. "We're done here."

Jonson nodded, but his expression was troubled. "Why would they take the bodies?"

Kesh didn't answer immediately. He turned back toward the drag marks, following their trajectory with his eyes until they disappeared into the distance.

Draugr didn't think. They killed and move on.

"I don't know," Kesh said finally. "But I don't like it."

He gestured toward the southern path. "Let's move."

The team fell into formation and started back the way they'd come. Kesh took point, his attention split between the path ahead and the detection array still humming against his temple.

The armor worked perfectly. Movement was silent. Detection range was solid. Carl's design held up exactly as promised.

But none of that changed what Kesh had seen.

Nobody spoke on the walk back.

Kesh reached the treeline where they'd left the goats. Behind him, Jonson untied his mount from the pine it had been secured to—one of the Stonehorn Goats they'd started training six weeks ago.

The goat snorted, breath misting in the cold air. Its massive horns caught the light as it shifted weight, hooves finding purchase on the icy ground without effort.

Kesh remembered when Edda first proposed the idea.

---

---

Six weeks earlier.

Tavi sat astride one of the goats near the pen, grinning like she'd just discovered something incredible. The massive beast stood calm beneath her, ears flicking as she leaned forward to stroke its neck.

Jem watched from the fence, eyes wide. "Can I try?"

Tavi nodded. "Come here. Slowly."

Jem climbed the rail and approached with careful steps. The goat's head swiveled toward him, golden-brown eyes tracking his movement.

"Don't rush," Tavi said. "Let him see you."

Jem stopped an arm's length away.

"Okay," Tavi continued. "Put your hand out. Palm down. Let him smell you first."

Jem extended his hand. The goat leaned in, nostrils flaring as it processed his scent. After a moment, it huffed it's acceptance

"Good," Tavi said. "Now walk around to his side. Stay where he can see you."

Jem circled slowly, keeping his movements smooth. The goat shifted slightly but didn't pull away.

"Grab his mane," Tavi instructed. "Right behind the shoulder. Use that to pull yourself up. Don't grab the horns—he doesn't like that."

Jem gripped the thick fur and hauled himself upward, swinging one leg over the goat's broad back. He settled behind Tavi, gripping her shoulders for balance.

The goat huffed again but didn't move.

"See?" Tavi said. "He's fine."

Edda had been watching from the gate. She stepped forward, eyes sharp with calculation.

"How long did it take you to train him?" she asked.

Tavi shrugged. "A week? Maybe less. Tanna said they're smart. They just need to trust you first."

Edda turned toward the longhouse. "Jonson. Come here."

The young militiaman jogged over, confusion evident on his face. "Ma'am?"

"You're going to learn how to ride a goat," Edda said.

Jonson blinked. "I'm... what?"

"We need fast response teams," Edda continued. "Patrols on foot are too slow. Horses panic around draugr. These monster goats don't." She gestured toward the pen. "Tavi just proved they can be ridden. You're going to test whether they work in combat."

Jonson looked at the massive beast, then back at Edda. "Ma'am, I don't—"

"Tavi will teach you," Edda said. "Starting now."

Tavi slid off the goat and landed lightly. She looked up at Jonson with a bright smile. "It's easy. Just don't be scared."

Jonson swallowed.

---

---

Kesh watched as Jonson mounted now with practiced ease. The goat stood steady, waiting. Six weeks of training had turned uncertainty into routine.

Only four goats were rideable so far—the others were still too young or too wary. But the pregnant doe Tanna brought from the mountains had delivered three healthy kids. Given time, the herd would grow.

For now, four was enough.

Jonson and his crew was the fast response team. Mounted scouts who could cover ground faster than any foot patrol and reach threats before they escalated.

It gave them an edge others didn't have.

"We're heading back," Kesh said quietly. "The rest of you mount up"

Kesh watched the rest of the team mount up—each settling into their saddles with ease. The goats moved together without command, instinct guiding them into formation.

The goats were fast, strong, and extremely deadly in a fight.

Exactly what Edda had wanted.

Kesh started walking, and the mounted team followed.

Behind them, the abandoned village disappeared into the snow.

---

---

Doc set the rune book down on the small table in his room, leaning back in the chair as the last page settled closed. Two days of reading—cover to cover, then through again for the technical diagrams. Whoever wrote it knew what they were doing.

Lux, thoughts?

The framework is internally consistent, Lux replied. Runes function as structured interfaces for ambient magical energy. The text's core premise—that geometric patterns channel mana through symbolic representation—holds across all documented examples.

But?

The description remains phenomenological rather than mechanistic. The author documents what runes do without explaining why the patterns produce their effects. There's no underlying energy transformation model.

Doc considered that, watching Fish stretch out on the floor beside his chair. She yawned once, then settled her head on her paws.

"They treat it like magic," Doc said quietly. "A mystery that just works if you follow the rules."

Accurate assessment. The text emphasizes practical application over theoretical foundation. Users are instructed to replicate established patterns without understanding the energy dynamics that make those patterns functional.

Doc picked up the book again, flipping to a diagram near the middle—a basic light rune with its activation sequence and energy requirements clearly marked. The illustration showed clean lines and precise angles between components.

It looked less like mysticism and more like engineering notation.

"This isn't magic," Doc said. "It's programming."

Expand.

Doc traced the diagram with one finger, following the pattern's logic. "Look at the structure. You've got an input node—the power source. A transformation matrix—the geometric pattern. Output parameters defined by the specific glyph configuration. It's a function call."

The comparison is apt, Lux acknowledged. Runes appear to serve as instruction sets for ambient energy manipulation. The symbols define how available power should behave rather than generating effects directly.

"Right." Doc set the book down again. "The rune doesn't create light. It tells existing energy how to become light. The pattern is the algorithm."

Fish's ear flicked toward him, though she didn't lift her head.

This interpretation diverges significantly from established magical theory as documented.

"Because they're thinking about it wrong," Doc said. "They're treating runes as symbols with inherent power. But the symbols aren't powerful—they're precise. The geometry matters because it defines energy flow pathways. Get the angle wrong, and you've introduced a logic error. The spell fails the same way code crashes when you miss a semicolon."

Your framework suggests runes function as deterministic systems rather than mystical constructs.

"Exactly." Doc leaned forward, pulling the book closer again. "Which means they should be reproducible and testable. If I understand the energy dynamics, I can modify the pattern to produce different outputs."

Theoretical advantage: significant. You could engineer novel runic structures rather than replicating established forms.

"Maybe." Doc frowned slightly. "But theory without testing is just guesswork."

He closed the book again and stood, moving to the window. Below, a merchant's wagon rolled past, its wheels creaking under weight. Across the street, someone swept their doorstep.

Ordinary. Mundane.

And yet every person down there operated within a framework Doc was only beginning to map. They understood intuitively what he had to learn through observation and deduction.

You are approaching magic as a foreign system requiring reverse-engineering, Lux noted.

"Because that's what it is," Doc said. "To me, anyway."

The locals operate within it instinctively. Their classes interface directly with ambient energy. You remain external to that structure.

Doc nodded. "Which means I have to build my own interface."

Your geometric precision gives you an analytical advantage. You can verify rune accuracy in ways conventional practitioners cannot.

"I need to test this," Doc said. "Properly."

Recommended approach?

Doc turned from the window. "Start simple. Draw the light rune from the book. Ambient draw only — no external power source. See if I can regulate the input myself instead of letting it dump all at once like Calen's battery did."

That will require careful geometry. A single deviation could compromise the structure.

"Which is why we're starting with chalk on a floor and not a Carl battery."

Fish stood, stretching, then padded over to sit beside him. She looked up, amber eyes steady.

Doc rested one hand on her head. "What do you think?"

She huffed once

Philosophical consideration, Lux said. If runes function as you theorize, then magical practice becomes a form of applied science rather than inherent mysticism.

Doc smiled slightly. "Which means I'm not as far outside the system as everyone thinks."

Correct. You simply approach it from a different analytical framework.

---

---

Doc walked outside with Fish, the rune book tucked under one arm. The stable yard sat empty except for Tam mucking out the corner pen. The boy glanced up, nodded once, then returned to his work.

Doc knelt near a wagon, setting the book open beside him. The light rune diagram stared up from the page—clean lines and clear notation. He pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket and began tracing the pattern onto the packed dirt.

Measurements confirmed, Lux reported. Pattern replication accuracy: ninety-nine point eight percent.

Doc finished the last stroke and sat back on his heels, studying the completed rune. It matched the book exactly—input node at the base, transformation matrix spiraling outward, output parameters defined by the final glyph.

"Ready?"

Standing by.

Doc drew the final activation mark and stepped back.

For a moment, nothing.

Then the chalk lines caught — a faint glow tracing the pattern outward from the input node. Light bloomed above the center. Soft. Steady. About as bright as a candle.

He watched it hold for ten seconds before the ambient draw tapered off and it faded.

Function successful, Lux confirmed. However, I am detecting an inefficiency in the geometric structure.

Doc frowned. "Show me."

A translucent overlay appeared in his vision, highlighting one section of the pattern. This angle—fourteen degrees offset from the central node—does not contribute to output modulation. The energy passes through without transformation. The segment is functionally redundant.

Doc studied the highlighted section. Lux was right. The angle deflected energy along a pathway that immediately converged with the main flow. It added nothing.

"The book's wrong," Doc said quietly.

Correction: the book replicates an established pattern without analyzing its efficiency. The original designer likely included this element for aesthetic symmetry rather than functional necessity.

Doc picked up the chalk and adjusted the pattern, removing the redundant angle. The corrected version looked slightly asymmetric compared to the book's diagram, but the geometry made more sense.

He activated it again.

The light appeared immediately—brighter than before, with less pull on the ambient field. Doc saw the difference in the draw, cleaner and more direct.

"Better," he murmured.

He crouched and adjusted one angle of the transformation matrix with the chalk, a small correction.

The light dimmed.

He redrew the angle slightly further.

Fish watched from a few feet away, her amber eyes tracking the shifting glow.

Doc worked through the pattern methodically, adjusting angles and watching the output respond. The light spread wider. Narrowed into a focused beam. Dimmed to a faint pulse. Each adjustment produced immediate, predictable changes.

He sat with that for a moment, watching the light flicker as the chalk began degrading under sustained energy flow.

It held for another thirty seconds before fading completely, the ambient draw finally exhausting what the simple material could channel.

Doc sat back, staring at the smudged pattern on the ground.

Assessment, Lux said. You have successfully modified an established runic structure through geometric analysis rather than trial and error. The adjusted pattern is objectively more efficient than the documented original.

"The book's a starting point," Doc said. "Not a rulebook."

Correct. If other documented patterns contain similar inefficiencies, the implications are significant.

Movement caught Doc's attention. Calen stood near the stable entrance with Kipp, Ren, and Maris watching from behind him.

"What was that?" Calen asked, stepping forward slowly.

"Light rune," Doc said. "Testing the theory."

"You made it brighter," Calen said. "While it was active."

Doc nodded.

Ren frowned. "That's not how magic works."

"It is for me."

The four of them stared at the smudged chalk pattern on the ground.

Doc stood, brushing dirt from his knees. He looked down at the pattern one more time, then glanced at Fish.

Philosophical observation, Lux said quietly. We have been in this world for eight months. Each discovery reveals how much remains unknown.

Doc smiled slightly. "What else don't we know?"

Unknown variables exceed cataloged data by significant margins. Magical systems alone contain multiple unexplored frameworks—enchantment theory, elemental channeling, ritual construction, dimensional manipulation.

"And we just figured out how to turn a light on and off."

Progress measured in foundational understanding rather than application scope. You are building the framework to interpret phenomena that others accept without question.

Doc looked across the stable yard, where Tam had stopped working to watch them. Beyond the walls, Glasshold stretched up the mountainside.

"There's a lot of world out there," Doc said.

Affirmative. Recommendation: continue systematic investigation.

Fish padded over and sat beside him, her midnight coat catching the afternoon sun. The violet tracings in her fur shimmered faintly.

Doc rested one hand on her head.

"Yeah," he said. "Let's keep going."