They didn’t take it well.

  James’ mother was inconsolable. She wailed louder than James had ever heard in his entire life before she ran out of the kitchen and back to his parents’ bedroom. James flinched at the sound of the door slamming.

  James’ father was so quiet that at first James thought that he was silent, hands covering his face. But as the echo of the door slamming faded and with his mother’s wailing muffled, James realized his father was sobbing quietly. Tears dripped from beneath his large, calloused hands to fall to the table.

  James was stunned. He’d never seen his father cry, not like this.

  James – na?ve, foolish James – didn’t understand what he had done in choosing his classes. But his parents did, and they immediately mourned for him, their fourth child, for they knew that his life would be short and full of pain. James had been too sheltered from the brutal truth of the world, living in a peaceful village under the protection of his parents.

  There was a smashing sound from his parents’ bedroom, making James flinch. The sound also roused James’ father, who sniffed loudly and ordered James to return to his room and stay there until he came to get him. “Under absolutely no circumstances are you to leave that room on your own, understand?” he said. James had never heard this tone from his father before.

  His father… sounded afraid.

  “Yes, father.” James said and returned to his room. The sun was high in the sky before his father opened the door. “Come along James, your mother and I need to talk to you about what happens next.” They returned to the kitchen, where his mother was already seated at the table. Upon seeing James she let out a choked sob, then immediately slapped her cheeks, hard. She sniffed and sat up straight in her chair. James’ father sat next to her, and gestured to the seat at the opposite side of the table.

  James sat down, nervous.

  “W-what do you mean, what happens next?” James asked.

  James’ father answered. “James, before we talk about that, you must promise me and your mother. You have to swear, not just on your life, but on our lives, that you will never tell anyone that you chose the Enchanter class.”

  James trembled. “But, why-”

  But he was cut off by his mother’s scream. “By the gods James, swear it! Please!”

  She didn’t sound angry. She sounded desperate.

  James jolted at his mother’s shout. “I, I swear. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “On your life, James. And ours.” his father insisted, a serious look on his face. His mother held her breath waiting for his response.

  “I swear on my life, I won’t-”

  This time it was his father who cut him off.

  “AND. OURS.” his father roared.

  James flinched again. He was trembling and couldn’t stop. He’d never felt this much intensity from his parents before.

  “I swear, on my life, and, and… and on my mother and father’s lives, that I won’t tell anyone I chose Enchanter.” he managed to squeak out.

  James father, who had been watching him like a hawk, now broke eye contact and looked at James’ mother. She was trembling, too. James’ father put an arm around her shoulder, reassuring her, before turning back to James.

  “You swore, James. On your own life, and on ours. By the gods I wish that would be enough to protect you, but it won’t.” James’ father continued quietly. “Everyone gets two classes, and they can never be changed. Now that you’ve chosen, for the rest of your life, you’ll be a Smith and an Enchanter. Even if you never enchant a thing, and spend the rest of your life training to fight, you’ll never be able to compare to someone who has a combat class. Even the weakest Fighter who never trained a day in their life will be able to beat you in a fair fight.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “So, you must never get in a fight. Not just never get in a fair fight, but in any fight. Ever. The moment you get in a fight, even just jokingly or for fun, it’s over. Once even one other person knows you don’t have a combat class, once that information spreads beyond the three of us here, there will be nothing anyone can do. You’re already in tremendous danger, James, though you clearly don’t realize it.”

  At this, James’ father paused.

  “But… why? What’s so bad about not having a combat class? If it’s so bad, then what about yesterday, when I didn’t have any classes…?”

  James mother sniffed. “James… nobody would be such a fool as to harm a child before they choose their classes. When you were choosing, did you see the Avenger class?” She asked gently.

  “Avenger? No…” James said.

  “Good.” his mother responded. “Only children who have been truly harmed or wronged can choose that class. It’s a class to aid those in seeking revenge. It’s rarely seen, but incredibly powerful. Children who are abused, or kidnapped, or otherwise harmed or preyed upon, can take the class and get revenge on their abuser.”

  “To be the target of an Avenger is one of the worst things that can happen to a person. Well, normally.” His father corrected himself. “You must never abuse a child, or anyone who hasn’t chosen both their classes, James. Especially given the classes you chose. But we’re getting away from what’s important right now. For now, that’s why until yesterday you were never seriously bullied or abused. But now that you’ve chosen your classes, you can never take the Avenger class. And for that reason, evil people will see you as a target.”

  “Evil people… you mean like bandits?” James asked.

  “Yes, but not just bandits.” his father answered. “The world isn’t such a simple place that only bandits would see others as targets.”

  “A lot of the time, what keeps the peace is the implicit threat of retaliation.” His mother said. “Knowing that someone can defend himself if wronged prevents almost all wrongdoing in the first place.”

  “Now that you’ve chosen both your Classes, you won’t be able to defend yourself from being wronged.” His father said. “And so everyone with evil in their heart will see you as an easy target, and all their pent up evil which normally goes frustrated by the thought of retaliation will be directed at you. There’s almost nothing you can do at this point.”

  “R-really?” James was starting to realize that he was in trouble, but he he still didn’t understand the full import of what he’d done.

  “The first thing you can do is never get in a fight. Never pick a fight, and never attempt to fight back if someone tries to pick one with you.” His father said.

  “This is already basically impossible.” His mother said.

  “Yielding quickly when challenged is suspicious, but not unheard of.” his father continued. “Some people, even with combat classes, simply don’t like fighting and will avoid it if at all they can. Never carry more money than you’ll need for the day, nor jewelry, nor anything of any real value. Nothing that you wouldn’t give up if demanded.”

  “As a smith, you’ll need to have all your customers pick up their orders at your smithy. Never deliver anything to a customer, no matter what. Either make up excuses or refuse the order, or send it through a courier.” His mother said.

  “The next thing would be to try to run from fights you can’t avoid, but I know Smiths don’t get any bonuses to their speed.” His father continued.

  “Bonuses to speed?” James asked.

  “Most classes will give a boost to your basic attributes.” His mother answered. “If I’m remembering right, Smiths get boosts to strength and dexterity, but not to speed. I don’t know what boosts – er, your other class gives. What are your boosts, James?”

  “And be sure to answer quietly.” His father urged. “We can never be sure there’s not an eavesdropper listening in.”

  James wondered how to even find out what boosts an Enchanter would have, when the information flowed into his mind automatically.

  Class: [Smith] Level: 1 +Strength +Dexterity +Endurance

  Class: [Enchanter] Level: 1 +Dexterity +Willpower +Intelligence

  “Dexterity, Willpower, and Intelligence.” James whispered. “And I also have an Endurance boost from Smith.”

  “Three boosts?” His father whispered back. “Never tell anyone that either. I’ve never heard of anyone getting three boosts from their classes before. It might make someone suspicious.”

  Neither James nor his parents knew that class synergies could result in additional attribute boosts. Those with dual combat classes were aware of the possibility, but most people who chose a class for self-defense and another for their livelihood almost never had such synergy.

  “Dexterity, huh? In that case, you should pretend that your second class is Grappler” His father said.

  “But who would train him?” his mother interjected. “It’ll be suspicious if he can’t even fake it. If he pretends to be a Brawler, I can at least give him some training without it looking too strange. And he might learn at least a little about self-defense.”

  “True.” his father conceded. “Okay, James, you’re going to pretend your second class is Brawler, and your mother will give you some training. But remember, never get in a fight. Never say what your second class really is.”

  James nodded.

  “What did you do with those enchantment designs the Enchanter gave you?” his father asked.

  “They’re, they’re up in my room.”

  “Go fetch them and bring them back here. We need to burn them.”

  “Why?!” James cried.

  “Because if someone finds them, they might realize the truth.” his mother hissed. “Keep your voice down.”

  “Hurry up James.” his father urged. “Carelessly leaving evidence lying around puts you at more risk than you can know.”

  James’ eyes teared up, but he swallowed his complaints and nodded. He got up from the table and went back to his room. He pulled out the bundle of papers and gave them one last look, when-