Alanna started her eighteenth birthday as she would every other day. When the orphanage bell rang she threw herself out of bed, fearful of Headmistress Sonya catching her tearing away any lingering fatigue she might have had, quickly made the sheets and then got in line for the bathroom behind the other children. 

She stood taller than most of them, a result of having been here the longest, and the line ahead of her was a veritable riot of color and shapes. A few were human, but most of them had the green or yellow-ish skin and tiny tusks of growing half-orcs, a consequence of the violence in the city’s past. A pair of twins had the distinctive horns, tail and vibrant skin tone of tieflings, one a fiery red, one a deep ocean blue. One of the few kids who stood taller than her was a girl with a long, orange-scaled serpentine neck and a head like a humanoid adder, which was likely the reason she was still here. Alanna knew the serpent-folk girl as Naji, which she always said was the easiest way for non-serpents to pronounce her name. They talked a lot when they would end up during chores in the same area, but every kid here was careful about making friends. You’d never know when they’d leave, after all.

When it was finally her turn in the bathroom she quickly looked herself over in the mirror. Her long, white, oval ears were tipped with a spot of black and terminated in her tangled, equally white hairline, which she quickly fixed with a few brushes of an old comb. It was about shoulder-length, never allowed to grow too long. She pulled aside her cheek to give her mouth a quick inspection. The caregivers always told her to be careful not to damage her buck teeth, because even though they said her teeth were “unappealing” any chips would likely prevent her from ever being adopted. Much good that advice did, she thought to herself. She soaped herself down with a bucket of water, cleaned her nails and finally brushed her poofy white rabbit tail, which was also tipped with a spot of black.

A final look in the mirror and she could only barely manage to conjure a smile. She wasn’t necessarily ugly, but her buck teeth kind of dominated her face when she smiled, and her body had clearly gone too many years with not quite enough food. Her breasts were but A-cups, probably also a side-effect of malnutrition. Her hands were calloused from repetitive physical labor and her clothes, a tunic and baggy pants, were kept just clean enough to keep fleas and lice away. It was not an impressive sight, she judged.

Today’s the big day, she thought, finally eighteen. For most children the day they could finally leave the desperation of the orphanage was one to celebrate… But not if you were part of the “leftovers.” The unwanted. The children that weren’t picked. 

The people in this city didn’t like orcs or beastfolk, even if you were only a half-breed. Those races were often hired to be soldiers, or drafted if there was some kind of war going on. They were associated with strength, violence and tragedy. Half-orcs orphans at least were appreciated for how quickly they’d put on muscle if fed and put to work, so a lot of them would end up getting taken in as farm hands or miners. They’d have to live a life of hard labor, but they’d at least have a home.

Tieflings and beastfolk had a much harder time. However, there was one way they’d be able to get adopted. A good Class. If you were born with a good Class, you could be adopted by the Adventurer’s Guild, an association of spellcasters or the church. There were never enough Clerics, or Wizards, or skilled Rangers out there.

She pulled up her status screen, which required only the flipping of a mental switch. Everyone had one, but not everyone had one as damning. She hoped against hope that there was some kind of major change in what she saw yesterday.

“Half-rabbitfolk Peasant.

Level 1.

Hitpoints: 8/8

Mana: 3/3

Strength: 7

Dexterity: 10

Constitution: 8

Intelligence: 10

Wisdom: 10

Charisma: 8

Experience: 6.7%.

Feats: [Good Runner (Racial)], [Great Hearing (Racial)], [Lesser Weather Reader (Class)]

Conditions: [Malnourished (Chronic)]”

Peasant is the most common and least useful Class. As far as Alanna knew it gave the user no special abilities other than an increasing ability to accurately predict the local weather, and no innate knowledge other than how to till a field and grow crops. Other classes gave their user unique abilities through which they could operate certain professions no one else could, such as Clerics having the ability to heal wounds or cure diseases instantly, or a Druid’s ability to speak with animals or force plants to grow in seconds. Some orphans were adopted precisely because they were born with useful classes, and while there were ways to give someone additional classes, these were expensive and required specialized spells. Not something the average person could ever hope to afford. 

Even leveling as a peasant was a pain. There were only two ways to gain levels: Do things related to your class, or slay monsters. For a Peasant, that meant working in the fields, the mines, or doing whatever other low-paying menial work that existed, and such tasks granted painfully small amounts of experience points. Most Peasants would be happy to reach level two in the prime of their life and level three in their late forties, with level four being a distant dream. Slaying monsters, meanwhile, was a task only dedicated adventurer-grade classes could do. A Peasant would be risking their life fighting even the weakest monsters.

Being born with a bad Class could ruin your life. Being born as an orphan of a race best referred to as “undesirable” as well as with a bad Class made it feel as though the stars aligned to make Alanna’s life particularly unbearable. And today the orphanage would make one last ditch effort to get her under someone else’s roof before they’d kick her out into the streets. The orphanage was a terrible place to live, but being homeless was many times worse.

She sighed deeply. Today was her last Selection, for better or for worse.

The orphanage had special clothes for the days when it hosted a Selection, the kind they didn’t want the children to wear out. Wool vests or dresses, for the boys and girls respectively. Nothing downright expensive, but they were definitely nicer than their day clothes. Everyone was expected to line up neatly along the walls of the entry hall, stand still and remain quiet unless spoken to. It always made Alanna feel vulnerable, feeling as though she was put on display like a prime slab of meat. Even so, this was the only shot she and the other children were going to get at a better life, or really any kind of life at all. Naji stood next to her, equally quiet and passive.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The tiefling twins got picked up almost immediately by men wearing long, colorful robes with hoods. “The Academy of Arcana” the other children whispered. The Tieflings had been recent arrivals, and it turned out one of them had the Sorcerer class and the other the Wizard class. She envied them immensely. 

Later a large bald human man was passing by the other children shortly afterwards. His coat had the mane of an animal draped around the neck and his fingers were covered in a dazzling array of rings. Her nose picked up a riot of fragrances from his robes as he approached, mainly candle wax and spices for which she had no name. He stopped in front of her, seemingly appraising her as he looked her up and down. The long wool dress she was wearing began to itch more by the second. 

“Hey, Sonya,” he called out. “How old is this one?” Headmistress Sonya approached soon after. She was a middle-aged elven woman who practically oozed professionalism, her heels clacking beneath her matronly dress as she approached. Her white hair was tied in a bun, as always, and everything from her nails to her eyelashes were meticulously groomed. She always told the children she wished to set the right example. “This one is eighteen,” she responded matter-of-factly. Alanna never saw the headmistress as a mother-figure. Rather, she had the rigid belief that any home was better than no home for the children under her care, and she suspected that was in no small part due to the fact there were no elven children in the orphanage.

The man grew a lecherous grin that made Alanna’s hair stand on end. “Eighteen huh? I guess that means today is your last day!” He laughed uproariously, as though the statement was meant as a joke. “I won’t pay for you, girl, but if today isn’t your lucky day again, come and find old Hanzo, eh? I’ll set you up, no sleeping in the street for you!”

Alanna felt her fight-or-flight instincts kick in, but resist the urge to yell in anger or flee the room. Headmistress Sonya would not forgive such an outburst, especially not on her last day. The man’s intended meaning was clear though: You’re not pretty enough to be bought, but once you’re out on the street and have nowhere to go, there’s always the brothel. The children weren’t supposed to know about stuff like that, but rumors were hard to expunge once they took root.

The man moved on, much to Alanna’s relief. For once she felt relief to not having been prettier, and having a starved frame. That may have just saved her.

The day went on. People came and went. One half-orc boy got adopted out to a farmer, which made this an above-average Selection already. Her heart sank as she realized that her last shot at getting a home may have been little more than a dream. Tomorrow she’d be out on the streets, begging for food. The sun had already begun to set, its last red rays filtering into the room through the window above the entrance. Selection would soon be over.

As Alanna abandoned all hope the double doors of the orphanage swung open and her jaw dropped as she saw the most beautiful elven girl walk through that she had ever seen. Her long blond hair shimmered like spun gold in the sunlight, tied into two cute pigtails. She wore a short green-and-white dress, the skirt of which seemed to dance around the girl’s legs with every movement. She wore silk gloves past her elbows, silk socks that ended somewhere underneath her skirt and her short heels seemed to be made of actual crystal. She carried with her an umbrella with intricate patterns sewn into the white fabric, which served more as a fashion statement than as protection from the elements. Unlike many elves she was rather short, though her build was equally lithe, and she carried herself with both immense confidence and grace, as though she had always owned this orphanage and was merely here to inspect her property.

She looked around the children in the room, most of whom were as shocked as Alanna to see someone with this much money come to their shabby orphanage. “That’s the Duke’s daughter,” Naji whispered to Alanna. She didn’t risk asking what on earth the Duke’s daughter was doing here, but the question had nonetheless rattled the entire room, and for an instant the quiet of the children standing in line was broken by whispers, before Headmistress Sonya tapped her heel on the floor. That was all the signal the children needed, for they all knew the headmistress was ruthless in exacting discipline when orders weren’t followed immediately.

The Duke’s daughter looked around the room, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she scanned the children one-by-one. That is, until her eyes fell on Alanna. Determination flowing into her visage she bee-lined for Alanna, who went from struck with awe to eyes wide with fright. There was simply no good reason someone with that much influence would be that interested in someone like her.

“Alistar, I want that one,” she said, pointing a dainty finger straight at Alanna. An older elven man with neatly-trimmed gray hair, a mustache and round glasses followed behind the Duke’s Daughter at a more measured pace. He wore a deep green cloak, held together with a pin topped with a glittering green birch leaf surrounded in white gold. Beneath that he wore a leather tunic designed to protect and a thin sheathed sword hung from his side.

“Lady Liriel, I must urge you to reconsider,” Alistar stated, before the girl rounded on him, both hands on her hips. “Alistar, you are not being paid to make me reconsider. I need a servant, and I want her! Let’s pay this place and get a move on. I don’t have all day!”

Alistar took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It seemed to Alanna that this man had been having a really hard day already. He turned to Headmistress Sonya. “Mistress Sonya, may I inquire as to the age of that girl?”

“She’s eighteen,” Sonya replied, this time without sparing a glance to Alanna. “Was His Grace Duke Giullis looking to adopt?”

Hearing the news Alistar let out a sigh, apparently one of relief. “Thank Sylvarra she’s eighteen, at least. No, this is not Duke Relgar’s intent. If she is eighteen then she’s ready to work, correct? It appears that Lady Liriel is in need of a personal attendant, and this girl does not appear to have been adopted yet. If the correct amount of funds were to be transferred to the orphanage, would you be willing to release this girl into the care of Lady Liriel?”

Headmistress Sonya spared Alanna only a single glance before nodding and stating, “Yes, that would be agreeable. Please, follow me to sign the paperwork.”

Liriel meanwhile grinned from ear to ear. “Finally!” she exclaimed as she followed Alistar and Sonya to the Headmistress’s office.

Alanna stood there in shock. The other children were whispering as they broke formation. Some congratulating her excitedly, others giving her the side-eye as they walked back towards their bunks, unable to contain their envy. Naji gave her a quick smile before joining the other kids in returning to the dorms. Only when she was the last one standing did she realize the immensity of her luck, and she started smiling broadly, running back to her own bunk at a full sprint in order to pack her things.

She wouldn’t be out on the streets! She was going home.