Introductions and social message butterflies for friend invites accomplished, we all looked at each other, as if waiting for someone else to start speaking first. Well, I was waiting, and I assumed the rest were as well.

Finally, Blanchefleur broke the silence. “Yes!” She said with another broad gesture, “It is what it looks like. It’s a game, right? So why not try something a little different?”

“It’s a lot different,” Jazmyn protested. “Do we call you ‘Mom’ now? Or still ‘Dad’? I’m confused.”

Sage spoke up. “It’ll still be ‘Mom,’” he pointed at himself. “And ‘Dad,’” he pointed at Blanchefleur, “when we’re not in the game. Unlike real life, you can use our character names here. Or, if you prefer the distinction between adults and adolescents still, you can call us Mr. and Mrs. Jonquil.”

Again, Sage pointed at himself and Blanchefleur, identifying himself as “Mr.” and Blanchefleur as “Mrs.”

“Not ‘Madame’ and ‘Monsieur’?” Ace asked.

“Non. I’ll use up my French vocabulary too quickly, Mademoiselle Ace.” Blanchefleur replied.

Ace winced very slightly -- neither Sage nor Blanchefleur appeared to notice -- and interrupted, perhaps a bit forcefully. “Just Ace, please. I don’t need any fancy titles.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Blanchefleur fluttered her hands as she apologized. “I’ll keep that in mind. Rie? Jazmyn? What would you two prefer?”

“It sounds funny to be ‘Madame’ or ‘Miss Jazmyn’ from you. Actually, probably from anybody, but especially from you two. Using those titles makes it seem like we’re not family. You wouldn’t call me ‘Miss Jenna’ or ‘Miss Jacobson’ at home. And maybe not calling Rie ‘Sis’ makes sense because our characters are different races, but ….” She shook her head. “I don’t know. Just ‘Jazmyn’ is fine.”

I shrugged. “It’d be a little weird to hear, but I don’t think it will bother me that much if it’s part of your roleplay.” I looked at both of my parents. “Being a fairy priestess was pretty much random for me -- I just wanted a healer class and since I got it, I kept it. But the way you say things, it seems you chose your classes and your bodies. I didn’t think we got to do that much customization. I didn’t even get to choose my own hair color, much less my figure.”

“That,” Blanchefleur said, “was your mother’s genius ideas.”

“Oh?” Ace, Jazmyn, and I all turned to look at Sage.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Well,” he began, “It isn’t actually that complicated. “The Path of Action lets a player choose a class, right? As long as it isn’t rare or higher, like a High Priestess probably is.”

“Unique,” I added.

Sage nodded. “Right. So Blanchefleur’s class is an all-female class.”

“Isn’t that sexist? Men can cook, too! Dad does all the time!” Jazmyn said.

“French nouns are gendered. ‘Patissiere’ is the feminine form of ‘Patissier.’ Think about the difference between priest and priestess,” Sage explained.

“Oh.”

“What about your class, then, Sage?” Ace asked. “Does it have different forms like hers?”

“Unfortunately, both in English and French, alchemist and alchimiste don’t change forms. I cheated, and used Russian instead: Alkhimik instead of Alkhimichka.”

“Does that mean you’re not really an Alchemist but are rather an Alkhimik?” I asked. “Is there a difference?”

He shrugged. “My main skill is alchemy. We just took advantage of what people in other countries already had to deal with.”

“Shouldn’t races be random, then?” Ace asked. “If you were able to choose your class and your sex, how is it that you both stayed human, too? That seems a little against the rules of character creation, to me.”

Blanchefleur laughed merrily. “I’m no more human than you or Rie is. Human-ish, with some differences. Your horn and ears, Rie’s wings and size, my true form.”

“Your true form?” Jazmyn asked.

“This.” Blanchefleur spun around, and her figure shimmered as if an illusion were falling away. Her skin was reddish-grey, and her hair long, loose, and green like sunlight through leaves. Her clothing remained the same, except the little white French cap became a wreath of white blossoms. “I’m a dryad,” she said. “Apple tree subspecies.”

All three of us mounted an “oh” of surprise. Then, as one, we looked at Sage.

He laughed softly and shook his head. “Nope. I’m afraid I’m just a normal human. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“But, that’s like, not supposed to happen,” Ace protested. “Isn’t it, you know, more than ninety-six percent of Path of Action are non-human races. All those possible races, and you get human at random?”

“Uncommon or rare doesn’t mean impossible, Ace,” Sage said. “A four percent chance means -- on average -- if one person made a character on the Path of Action every hour, then there would be about one human character a day.”

Ace furrowed their brow and frowned, clearly not believing Sage.

“Don’t make me give you a full statistics and probability lesson, Ace,” Sage said. Mother taught high-school math, so Sage could do it, too. “But think of it this way. Four percent is one out of twenty-five. If all twenty-five thousand players had used the Path of Action, there’d be about a thousand human characters, plus or minus a bit because that’s still a small sample size.”

“I guess if there would be a thousand humans, it’s not surprising to meet one,” Ace relented. Then they did a little math out loud. “Well, four percent is four of a hundred, so half and half would be two in fifty, right? That would be two humans in all of my seventh grade. Two point something.”

Sage nodded.

“But not everybody did do Path of Action,” Ace said.

“Right, so there will be a lot less than a thousand humans that way,” Sage said. “It wouldn’t be what you would expect, but you also shouldn’t be surprised, either.”

“I guess.”