Ione was ecstatic. As the months passed by, the entire group improved by leaps and bounds.

She was confident that each person would get a decent class as she had taught them [Tracking], [Survival], [Jumping], [Climbing], [Danger Sense], and [Spatial Awareness]. They developed [Dash] as well as [Hunger Resistance], [Fear Resistance], and [Heat Resistance]. Although Jahren had a good portion of those so she taught him [Stealth], [Predator Sense], and [Escape]. The white-haired girl had him teach the group [Swordsmanship] as well. Something else to note was their hefty attribute numbers; ever since she had established a thorough training regimen that was both fun and taxing, it boosted their initially pitiful numbers to ones that were passable. They still couldn't hurt her, but to random trees? Some of them were sporting small dents in the wood. Even though Ione had worries that what she taught could be used against her, she had a growing suspicion that the loyalty she was cultivating would dissuade any notion of dissent.

Over time, the group dynamics steadily shifted. Ione, being the leader, with Osmen second in command, self appointed, she had to add, with the rest willing to follow in the elven girl’s steps. Surprisingly, osmen seemed fine with this turn of events, and while that was welcome, she would be keeping an eye on her.

Ione thought about the early days, beginning when Osmen fully joined the group. Despite the initial hiccups the blonde-haired girl introduced to the little gathering: sulking when she couldn't land a punch on Ione and starting fights with others when she didn’t win a game, she slowly became a person Ione would be proud of to have second-in-command. Now, she accepted loss with grace, and knew that the differences between her and Ione were too great to feasibly believe that she could hurt the 8-year-old in any way. Humility was an amazing thing to behold. Osmen had even encouraged Fellis while playing games, which Ione had watched with a close eye.

The white-haired girl truly believed that she had created decent starting allies.

It was the month before Osmen’s birthday when Ione held a group meeting. She knew that the girl was wavering between the propaganda fed down her throat, or the freedom to adventure and experience what the world had to offer. They often had conversations where Ione, subtly, tried to steer her in the direction of adventuring, reiterating that it was her decision, yet questioning: did she really want to provide soldiers to a war that had no end in sight? Did she want her future children to live in a world run by destruction?

She could see Osmen’s dilemma grow. The chance that the blonde girl would choose a child caring class was low, but not zero. Ione was open to surprises, although Osmen choosing an undesirable class would be an unwelcome and disappointing one, since she had started this project with the aim for Osmen and her friends to truly make a difference; to make up for trying to bully Ione and do good unto the world.

She was hopeful.

They were sitting at their usual place, under the canopy of trees during afternoon recess, and Ione stood tall, with Osmen at position to her right.

“So, the order in which you each choose your classes will be Osmen first, then Daniah, Kraylin, Trikka, Jahren, myself, and then Fellis.” She turned and directly addressed Osmen, “how prepared do you think you are?”

“I think I’m pretty prepared, for the most part. But, do you know what happens if we choose a class that’s not outlined for us?”

That was one of the things Ione was trying to work on. She had asked Coranne that question, and she was told that the children had never chosen a class that wasn't outlined as appropriate. Ione found that strange, knowing that there would have been children that would have chosen different classes, simply because children were children. Some of them would absolutely select a class they wanted.

Something about the nun’s answer smelt fishy.

She decided to be honest and told them.

Rightfully, they were apprehensive.

“Listen, we’ve been training for this exact thing. You each have an escape plan. You each have [Survival]. You know to go to the nearest settlement, keep your head down, identity secret and to start looking for work. As long as you have a decent class, and you complete as many quests as you can, you’ll be fine.”

“But, we were told we would have a nice home and we’ll be taken care of,” Trikka said.

Fellis chimed in. “That’s not the life I want!”

Ione groaned and asked Trikka. “Do you really believe that? Who is going to take care of you? Did they say that?”

The blank faces that stared back at her gave the answer she needed.

“See? They didn't even tell you! Why do you believe them?”

Osmen spoke up. “Why should we believe you?” Ever the adversary, she was.

The white-haired girl turned to her. “Have I lied to you before?” Ione challenged.

Silence. She noticed Jahren looked at her in the corner of her eye, he knew that she did fib, but he didn't say anything. He proved to be a spectacular ally. She remembered when he told her that he was a loner, her words, not his; the ‘friends’ that she had suggested join their recess training were surface level only. He had trouble speaking sometimes, struggled with making deep connections, and had a relatively simple thought process, and that resulted in his lack of friendships. Yet, in an environment where he was encouraged to speak his thoughts, and help others, he had blossomed. She knew he took in more than most and was glad to have him on the team, especially since he had her back in all things, like not telling the others’ her lies.

She smiled. “Just think about it some more. We’ll keep up our training in the meantime, but I urge you all to start thinking about the future.” She gestured for everybody to pick a game and she turned to Osmen. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Nervous. I think I know what I'm going to choose.”

Ione’s brows rose. “You do?”

The blonde girl nodded. “Yea!” She smiled.

“Well, do you wanna tell me?”

“Nope. It’s a surprise.” She smiled.

Ione gave her a side eye, but decided to leave it. “Okay then.”

Osmen pouted in the corner of her eye, obviously upset that Ione wasn’t going to push her, but the white-haired girl ignored it.

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She turned back to the group and joined in to oversee tag, yet she couldn't help the feeling that Osmen developed [Deception].

~~~~~

A month passed and It was the day of Osmen’s choosing. Normally, Ione was not witness to the ceremony that followed on a child’s 15th birthday, but after she begged and pleaded, Amahn decided to afford her the privilege, as she cited, “If a child desires to learn, then who am I to deny.”

Ione thought, You deny me every time I try to question the world outside Whisperwind, but okay.

As they made their way to a church, a 5 minute walk that was along the dirt road that led away from the orphanage to one of the neighboring towns, The nun informed her that it was called, “The Choosing ceremony.”

Wow. The creativity was mind-blowing.

They finally arrived at the church, a building that was small, but imposing. Columns took root at each corner, and the wide double doors, black in color, were not welcoming.

As they crossed the threshold, Amahn motioned for her to be quiet and for the first time, Ione was starstruck by the architecture. Gorgeous stained glass covered the entirety of the ceiling, causing the sunlight to filter in reds, blues, greens, and purples. The glass was arranged in the pendant of Gostra, two hands seemingly outstretched, only to be tethered to a pole in the middle, similar to a scale. Around 40 kids were present, with a fewer number of nuns scattered about, their curious eyes were on her as she followed Amahn deeper inside the crowd until they came to a stop. Osmen was kneeled, and faced Belan who was accompanied by a strange hooded person, who stood at the altar. All three couldn't see Ione. In fact, Osmen had no idea Ione was even there; the young girl wanted to surprise the blonde as she knew she would be appreciative of the support and when she spotted Daniah, Trikka and Kraylin she waved.

They hesitantly waved back.

Her gaze swung towards the hooded fellow, their face completely obscured, save for their chin, and they stood silently with the sleeves of their arms connected in front of them.

They're just standing there, menacingly. Ione snorted.

Her hand tapped on Amahn’s forearm and the nun bent down to hear her over the murmur of children.

“Who’s that?” She asked, gesturing to the imposing cloaked figure.

“That’s Father Umin. He oversees all choosing ceremonies.” She spoke in a low voice.

Ione nodded in understanding, then asked, “why have I never seen him?”

“Because he is only permitted in the church. He’s not allowed to step foot in the orphanage under no circumstances. Just regulation.”

Her attention was brought back to the almost religious scene, and Belan spoke in a bellowing voice.

“Welcome, one and all. Once again, we are here today to witness The Choosing and Osmen Portunda is here with us today to select a class befitting this nation.”

She gave a thin smile and nodded to the kneeling girl. “You have your class options, correct? You were born about 2 minutes ago, 15 years ago.”

“Yes, mother Belan,” she said in a small voice.

“Wonderful. Tell us your options, young one.” She folded her hands over stomach and glanced at the hooded figure to her right.

Osmen inhaled, “I have Birther of Nations, Dominion of the Housewife, Ultimate Breed Sow, All-Encompassing Nanny, Mother of Great. All gray. Then I have All-Knowing Midwife, The Homemaker of Ages, Soldier of Gostra, Sword Practitioner, all green, and then Tactician Fighter, blue.”

Belan’s wrinkly brows rose at the last three. “How did you obtain those fighting classes?”

Osmen was silent and Belan’s face was stone. The old lady gestured to Father Umin and she asked the question again.

“Osmen, how did you get those classes?” Her voice croaked.

Shit.

The blond girl visibly struggled, her face set in a grimace, before her features smoothed over and she answered, “I played games in the forest with my friends. Jahren, one of the boys, taught us sword tricks for fun.”

“And who are the rest of these friends?”

Oh, fuck.

“Daniah, Trikka, Kraylin, Jahren…and…” Osmen’s jaw grit and she appeared as if she was fighting something. Ione had no idea what, but she was horrified. What the fuck was going on? Was Osmen going to sell her out?

“Osmen…” Belan warned.

The blonde girl huffed. “and…and Ione.” Then suddenly her face was serene, as if telling the truth slid a weight off her shoulders.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

Amahn gave her a sharp look. Ione’s lips thinned, but kept her gaze on the scene before her.

Belan’s eyebrow twitched. “The elf was there as well?”

“Yes.”

The old nun hummed. “Thank you for telling me the truth. Now, have you decided which class you would like?”

Ione looked on with bated breath.

Osmen inhaled, “I would like to go with Tactician Fighter.”

The white-haired girl was equal parts proud and anxious. Proud that Osmen chose a good class, but anxious that she had been named in the implicated party. She knew the blonde girl still had yet to fully trust her, but Ione thought she wouldn’t have named her if push came to shove. There was something about the old man standing at Belan’s side, Umin, that was suspicious.

“And why is that?”

“I think I could do well in that class. I could help with the war.”

“You could also help with the war by being a 'Birther of Nations', do you not think so?”

“I-I could, but something about Tactician Fighter seems right to me.”

“Osmen?” The old nun’s tone was strange and she held a glint in her eye.

“Yes, Mother Belan?”

The old lady narrowed her eyes. “Choose ‘Birther of Nations.’”

“Wha-Mother Belan?” Osmen questioned. Belan again, motioned towards Umin and Osmen yelped, then winced, as she struggled against something.

Before Ione could think she stepped forward, only to be stopped as Amahn put a hand on her shoulder. The young girl looked up at the bespectacled nun and the woman shook her head, eyes wide. Ione brought her gaze back to Osmen, Belan and Umin and before anything else could be done, Osmen slumped forward, with her arms coming up to hold her weight.

Belan turned towards the crowd of disquieted children and nuns, not expecting to see that scene unfold before their eyes.

“Osmen has chosen the wonderful class of Birther of Nations.” The old nun paused, then said, “get up, Osmen.”

The prone girl slowly rose to her feet, face serene and her lips curled in a slight smile. Her blue eyes slightly widened when she spotted Ione, but otherwise, her face didn't change.

What the fuck was going on?

She turned to Daniah, Trikka and Kraylin and their faces were in equal parts shock, devastation and horror.

Did they know what Osmen was going to choose? But what is up with their faces? What?

Ione could only watch in disbelief as Osmen was led away by Umin, and Belan leveled a glare in the white-haired girl’s direction.

Ah, great.