Chapter 5: The Class System
Tiberius gaped at the blatant example of witchcraft floating before his eyes. Of course, he was no stranger to magic. Their very presence in this new and unfamiliar place had been proof enough that it did exist, its manifestations far more direct than he'd ever before experienced. But seeing it physically manifest like this was a different matter entirely.
The overweight "leader" of the town let out a high-pitched squeal of fright, his jowls quivering. "Y-you—! You can't depose me! I'm the mayor! This is—!"
At a sharp look from Tiberius, the sweaty man clamped his mouth shut with a soft whimper. The text followed his eyes, continuing to obscure his vision annoyingly. He reached out to wave it away, and the golden letters vanished as though snuffed out.
He schooled his face to its usual impassivity and looked back at Marcus. The implications of the message, if it could even be trusted to begin with, were something he could deal with later. For now, he had other matters to handle.
"I will rule over this land and its people. However, I see no further use for you," he scowled at the mayor and the bard both. "What use do I have for fops such as yourselves?"
The mayor began squealing once more, blubbering out some incomprehensible nonsense as he begged for his life. Marcus, on the other hand, remained calm. He extended a leg forward and gave a flowery bow that would have made even the most boot-kissing courtesan blush. "I assure you, I am more than capable in a variety of areas. What I have offered freely barely scratches the surface of my knowledge. Not to mention…" He gave the Legatus a meaningful look. "I am a level 21 [Royal Bard]."
Tiberius's brow furrowed. "A what?"
***
The way Marcus saw things, he had two options.