Thomas took a step back.

  “Rip my head off?” he spluttered, his face full of alarm.

  “Relax,” comforted Fizo, waving Thomas’s concern away with his hand. “These animals might be capable of tearing you to pieces, but they won’t do anything of the sort. This is our taming area. All of the monsters here are tamed for the good of the village.”

  This did little to comfort him.

  “Then why do you keep them away from the rest if there isn’t any risk?”

  “It’s just a precaution,” Fizo explained, stepping foot in front of a cage. Thomas stopped short a safe distance behind him. Peeking over his shoulder, he studied the creature and had no doubt it could rip off his head if it wanted to. It bore sabertooth fangs and muscular legs with a beautiful black coat covered in white stripes. The appearance somewhat reminded him of a puma, but it was far larger, somewhere between the size of a tiger and a horse.

  “What on earth is that?!” Thomas wailed. Fizo sniggered.

  “This is a fenx. Beautiful, isn’t she? We use these to get around. Perfect for traversing through the forest. How are you, Vioma?” he asked endearingly, approaching the cage and putting his hand through. Thomas winced in anticipation, but the fenx didn’t attack, instead walking up to Fizo’s hand and nuzzling it, letting out a deep purr as it did so. Flabbergasted, Thomas tentatively approached, and the fenx directed its gaze to its new visitor. It let out a small growl, unsure of how to react.

  “Now Vioma. That’s no way to react to Thomas. He’s a friend.” In response, the fenx turned its attention away from him and went back to nuzzling. “Sorry about her, she’s just unsure of you. Give it time.”

  “Trust me. I’m in no rush to start petting her, let alone get on her back,” he said, imagining how poorly such an attempt would go. “So how many tamed beasts are in this place anyway?”

  “Well, we mostly have fenx. Around 13 in all, and there are a handful of other creatures.”

  Thomas looked around, curious as to what other savage beasts may reside within the confines of the village walls. Could the monster that attacked him on his first night be among them?”

  “So you tamed these guys for transportation, right? What about the others? What are they for?”

  “Good question. Most of our tamed beasts are for transportation. The fenx do well in the forest, which is why they make up the bulk of our tamed beasts, but we have others that excel in different terrain.”

  “And what about combat? Do these guys fight?” he asked, motioning to the fenx that was still nuzzling Fizo’s hand. Pretty affectionate for such a dangerous creature.

  “Sure, they’ll defend us if that comes down to it, but no, we try to avoid using them for fighting. Beasts are difficult to tame, so it’s not cost-effective to throw them into battle. We only have the one beast tamer as it stands, too, so we can’t afford to endanger them needlessly.” Fizo covered the sunlight from his eyes using a hand and looked about the vicinity.

  “Our beast tamer is called Farlow, doesn’t look like he’s around right now; I’ll introduce you to him later. We don’t have time to stick around. Lots more to see!”

  Next up, the pair headed to the weaponsmith in the center of the village. “Morning, Kinji,” Fizo chirped as they entered the building.

  “Fizo! How are you? And who is this you brought with—” Kinji came up short, realizing it was Thomas. Wide-eyed, his body went rigid. “Umm, hello. Welcome to my workshop, Summon. What can I help you with?” he managed to sputter out, clearly caught off guard. It was strange seeing someone so afraid of him. He was becoming used to all the hostility, but not the fear. He didn’t much like how it made him feel. Conscious of the effect his presence had, he chose his next words carefully.

  “Hi Kinji, my name is Thomas. No need to call me ‘Summon.’ Fizo is showing me around your wonderful village. I’m trying to find my footing, you see, as everything is a little alien to me. If you can explain more about your workshop, that would be great.” Surprisingly, his words seemed to have the desired effect, as Kinji loosened up after being reassured.

  “No need to be so tense, Kinji! Remember, Thomas is with us! You heard the Chief.” Kinji looked down, scratching his head. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I’ve never actually seen a Summon before—only heard stories. Anyway, I’d be happy to show you around my humble workshop.”

  What transpired over the next 15 minutes was a wonderful tour that left him in awe. The armory was filled with all manner of weapons. From tiny little daggers to great big two-handed broad swords, there were all weapons, great and small. But not just swords. Maces, pikes, lances, you name it. The variety was breathtaking. Thomas picked up a beautifully crafted sword with a curved edge.

  “You made this?” he asked, flicking the edge, which gave a resounding ting.

  “Right you are! Every weapon in this building was made by these two hands,” he exclaimed, bumping his fists together with a deep thud that emanated pride. Thomas smiled and returned the sword to its spot. Re-examining Kinji’s fine handiwork from afar, a particular weapon caught his eye, a longsword of unrivaled beauty. Darting over to it like a kid in a candy shop, he carefully lifted the longsword to eye level and panned it across his eye line.

  Its blade had a bluish tinge to it, unlike the rest of the weapons in the armory. But it wasn’t just the blade that highlighted its quality. It was everything. The guard was immaculately crafted and bent back toward the blade at a 45-degree angle, giving it a striking appearance. Caressing the grip, he was surprised to find it soft and curved to the contours of his fingers, almost like the weapon was demanding to be held. Inspecting the pommel, he noticed an insignia etched into the metal.

  “What a weapon!” he gasped, turning around to present it to its forger. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  “Good eye!” Kinji responded. “This is a special commission I’m working on for one of our finest! Nyrinn recently ascended to the class of True Warrior, and this was the weapon he requested. It needs a little more work, but it’s almost done.”

  “This isn’t finished yet?!” Thomas exclaimed. “But it’s perfect!” Kinji giggled.

  “You’re most kind, Thomas… you know, you’re not at all anything like I expected.”

  “And what did you expect? That I was some kind of fiend who would slay anything that moved?” He let out a small snort, trying to imagine himself that way. “If we’re being honest, that looks a lot more like you than me,” he added, shooting Kinji a warm smile. The large ekari looked down at his rippling muscles and back to Thomas.

  “I suppose you're right,” he agreed. “Apologies for judging you so.”

  “It’s fine,” Thomas said. “I get there’s bad blood between our kinds.” Turning back to the table, he set the sword down carefully as if the slightest impact might damage it, although he suspected the weapon was likely damn-near indestructible. “When can I get a weapon like this?” he asked, voice full of excitement. Kinji and Fizo laughed; he’d almost forgotten Fizo was still here.

  “No time soon, if ever,” Fizo barked. “Only the most elite warriors are ever bestowed with such a weapon.” The reason Nyrinn is getting that blade is because he defeated a veshmar. Came on him in the forest. Vicious beast. Size of this room. Lots of teeth. Usually takes five of our warriors to take one down.

  “So what are you saying? I need to slay a veshmar?”

  “No, no, no,” Fizo corrected. “It’s not quite as restrictive as that. The sole requirement is that you prove yourself to be a True Warrior. You have to pass what we call the “Warrior’s Trial.” It can take any form provided it demonstrates your character and skill as a True Warrior.”

  Upon hearing this, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the Romans. In their era, the top gladiators were bestowed a rudis, a wooden sword. It was a sign of honor and skill, and with it, they earned their freedom from the arena. The ekari certainly looked like gladiators, and based on the ease with which Luran dispatched the night creature, he expected they were just as skilled too.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “How interesting,” Thomas responded, stroking his stubble, deep in thought. “And who is it that decides what merits completion of this Warrior’s Test?”

  “That would be Akesh,” Fizo beamed. “The strongest warrior in all the village. He’s the combat master and leads training. You’ll meet him tomorrow. But regarding the custom weapon… you should give up on the idea. There are only a handful of us with custom weapons. It’s a sign of prestige reserved only for the very best. Besides, have you even fought with a sword before?” Fizo posed with a curious gaze.

  “Can’t say that I have. But I’ll get my hands on one of those weapons all the same,” Thomas asserted, narrowing his eyes with a sly grin. Kinji and Fizo shared a doubtful look.

  “Just focus on mastering the basics first,” said Kinji. “You’ll be using a basic sword like this,” he explained, picking up a plain-looking sword and handing it to him.

  “Fair enough,” Thomas conceded. “I’d rather walk before I can run anyway.”

  “Walk before you can run?” Kinji repeated, puzzled.

  “Don’t worry, it’s a saying from back home. How much is this sword anyway? I don’t see any prices listed anywhere,” he explained, scanning the goods. “I also don’t have any coin either… but I’ll be back when I get my affairs in order.”

  “That’s right!” Fizo blurted. You humans use coins for all of your goods, don’t you? We don’t bother with all that.”

  “Oh,” he responded, surprised. “What do you use then? Do you trade with precious metals or something, perhaps chunks of silver and gold?”

  “Not exactly. Our village is a non-monetary community. We each perform our assigned roles, and everyone reaps equal rewards.” Upon hearing this, he screwed up his face in a rather ugly display.

  “How the hell does that work?” he argued, throwing his hands into the air. Fizo scowled.

  “Just because we do things differently doesn’t mean they are any less effective,” Fizo asserted. “We get by just fine.”

  “So you’re telling me nobody has any gripes with equal sharing?”

  “Yes. In fact, we quite like it,” Fizo said, his scowl growling deeper.

  “I’m not buying it,” Thomas insisted. “What about all the people who work harder than the rest? You can’t tell me they’re fine with splitting everything equally when there are bums who slack off and underperform.”

  “I don’t know about the human kingdoms,” Fizo muttered, looking away defiantly, “but I think you’ll find here in our village that everyone takes pride in their work. We don’t have any ‘bums’ as you call it.”

  Still puzzled as to how this way of living was functional, he searched for kinks to exploit. It didn’t take him long.

  “Okay then, Fizo. Let’s assume you don’t have any slackers and everyone loves their jobs, fine. But what about the low-skilled workers? There has to be skill disparity. Are the top performers really satisfied with having their skills exploited? I very much doubt they are.” Not missing a beat, Fizo fired back with a rebuttal.

  “Of course there are gaps in skill, but what sense would it make to punish those at the bottom who put in just as much effort as those at the top?” Thomas’s puzzled face returned, not expecting such an answer. A society based on effort, not outcome? It sounded a bit like socialism, but it didn’t seem to fit the ideology entirely.

  “You have to remember that everyone starts at the bottom, but nobody stays there. It’s like a cycle. When we start our occupation, we begin at the bottom as we hone our craft. Our shortcomings are offset by the experts. But with time, our shortcomings fade, and we, too, become experts in our crafts. This enables us to support those embarking on their craft like we once did.” The more Fizo spoke, the more sense it made, although it was hard trying to get his head around it all.

  “Okay, Fizo. Perhaps there is some merit to this way of living. But what happens beyond the village? I imagine there are other intelligent monster races out there. Do you trade with them?”

  “Why of course, we can’t produce everything ourselves.”

  “And you mentioned before that you don’t use money. So I take it you barter in trade with goods? The rarer the goods, the more they’re worth?”

  “Exactly!” exclaimed Kinji, snapping his fingers together. At least that made sense.

  “Okay, I think I’m getting it now. Last question. What happens when you want something that exceeds your designated quota? Say… I don’t know… an extra candle?”

  “It’s pretty simple. You either make it yourself or ask the appropriate professional to make it,” Fizo explained.

  Thomas shot him a sly grin.

  “And is there some sort of exchange that happens here… you know, like a trade?” Fizo sighed.

  “No, Thomas. There isn’t. It’s called doing your job. Unlike you humans, we’re honored to receive order requests. It’s a testament to our skill and aids those we hold dear. And before you ask, we complete these in our free time, of which we all have plenty.”

  “I see,” he said, trying to visualize their way of living. He hated to think it, but it did sound rather nice—everyone sharing, loving their jobs. Of course, it would never work with humans. They were simply too greedy, which led him to one ultimate conclusion—the ekari were undeniably a more selfless race. Now that, he didn’t imagine, is something he would be thinking on his very first day living among them.

  “I have to say, it does seem a rather admirable way to live, and it’s refreshing to know that everybody is passionate about what they do. But how do you choose what jobs to go into? Surely, there are shortages among the less exciting vocations.” Fizo smiled, not missing the compliment.

  “As youths, we shadow the adults across every profession. This not only helps us understand how the village functions, but it also helps us to see what we excel at and enjoy. We may not be large in number, but we usually fill every occupation. Should a job go unfilled, the work is shared among those with the closest skills. For instance, if Turnabar, our fletcher, was to finally succumb to all of those dodgy elixirs he downs like juice, his work would probably be split among the Kinji here, and the artisans.”

  “Forgive me—what does a fletcher do, exactly?”

  “They make arrows,” Kinji explained.

  “And you need a whole job for that?”

  “Not really, but by focusing solely on arrows, a fletcher can produce arrows much faster with no drop off in quality,” Kinji said. Thomas slowly nodded, acknowledging the reasoning.

  “So Kinji, when did you figure out you wanted to be a weaponsmith?” Kinji stood tall, arms on his hips, clearly proud of his profession.

  “Ever since I was a boy,” he announced. “My father was the village weaponsmith before I, and he was the very first person I shadowed. After a few weeks with him, I knew making weapons was my calling. Of course, I shadowed everyone else as is required, but my mind was made up.”

  “And your love for making weapons has never wavered after all these years? Not even once?”

  “Not even once,” Kinji confirmed with kind eyes.

  “That’s great that you do something you love. I’m only 24 and I’ve had five different jobs already—didn’t like any of them!” Fizo chopped the air sideways with his palm.

  “We don’t do that here,” he explained.

  “What? Switch jobs?”

  “Yes. Once we select our profession, it is our responsibility to see it through. Switching would be a sign of great dishonor. Only the warriors get to switch, and that’s because when they reach an old age they become a liability in combat. So now you understand why we spend many years shadowing. Selecting a vocation is the most important decision an ekari makes, so you’d best pick wisely,” Fizo informed, pointing a finger at him.

  “Unfortunately, we don’t have time for you to shadow everyone, so this tour will have to serve as your guide. How old did you say you were? 24? You're nine years overdue!” he laughed.

  “You choose a job for life at 15?” Thomas exclaimed. “That’s crazy!”

  “Nothing crazy about it!” Fizo countered. “When we come of age, we must contribute like everyone else.”

  “But… they’re just children!” Thomas objected. “How can somebody make such a life-altering decision at such a young age?” Fizo frowned.

  “They’re not children,” he snapped. “That’s very insulting. How are things done in the human kingdoms?”

  “Well, I can’t speak of this world, but back in mine, we don’t enter the workforce properly until around 18. Often later, if we choose additional study.”

  “18?!” Kinji roared, backing up Fizo. “How peculiar. Although I suppose studying could be considered work,” he pondered, scratching his head.

  “What about you, Fizo? Do you know what path you are going to follow when the time comes?” Fizo’s eyes lit up, and Kinji chuckled.

  “Here we go,” the weaponsmith announced, his lips curling into a playful smile.

  “I sure do!” Fizo chirped. “I’m going to work with my father in the armory next door! We make all kinds of cool stuff there. Ooo, this one piece we are working on together, it’s a chestplate lined with calamourn fur. Trust me, you’ve never felt armor so comfortable!” Fizo proceeded to ramble on about armoring for the next few minutes before he could get a word in edgeways.

  “Blimey, Fizo! It sure seems like you’re passionate about making armor!”

  “Sure am. In five short months, I get to go all in!” So Fizo was 14 and a half, it seemed. In reality, he looked much older as the faint outlines of muscle were visible beneath his short-sleeve shirt. It was only his demeanor that betrayed his true age. He viewed the world in a different light than Thomas did, full of longing and optimism. While it was nice to see such passion and vigor, he couldn’t help but hone in on the fact that Fizo was still a child, and to demand such high expectations of children was unfair.

  They should spend their childhoods playing and enjoying those fleeting years, shouldn’t they? And what of the dangerous professions? The warriors are whatever they are called. Do the ekari really send 15-year-old children into battle? It wasn’t right. But then again, who was he to question their way of life?

  “That’s awesome, Fizo. I’m sure you will make a great armorer. I guess I had better get thinking about what profession I should choose.”

  “Thanks, Thomas! And we had better get moving. There’s lots more to show you before you make your decision… although in all honesty, everyone already has strong expectations as to which path you will take, being a Summon and all. Of course, nobody can choose your path for you,” he quickly added. “It’s your decision to make.”

  Oh, yes. That was right. He was a Summon, wasn’t he? It was going to take a while to get used to that. And based on what the Chief had said, he bet they were expecting nothing other than one vocation for him—warrior.