Glass magic, the weakest of magic, the most fragile, the least effective. Those with it always end up with aide or aid class and a relief type. They were the ones to deal with the aftermath of war, helping those that had already severed their kingdo...
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Embarrassment. That was all I felt as I stared at the card in my hand. Glass? Glass? I could practically feel my future slipping away. I wanted to be the healer, the one everyone relied on, those that were always needed. I didn't really care if I was a cleric or a druid. Even a mage would have been fine... What kind of a lead is a rogue? Let alone having glass magic.
While I was cursing the card to the deepest depths of blazen, they started sorting us by the roles assigned to us via the gods. The soldier that took my card and gave me a strange look after reading what standing I had; but led me to the line for leads regardless. My parents saw this and seemed to explode with excitement as I held the cloth around my elbow in a tight grasp. We haven't had anything but leads for a long while in my family, but I was sorted into a war class. That, well, that was something we haven't had for a few generations. We were merchants. Not warriors.
My teeth clenched and gaze dropped, if only they knew... If they knew what it said, if they knew what it meant for our status. I walked past a girl sobbing about having the very same magic as me, her friends turning their backs at the new knowledge.
She had the weakest magic. The most fragile. The least effective. The worst of the combination magic. Biting my lip as he handed me back my card I found my gaze shifting to the ground not looking at the few around me, those thrilled to be a war class leader. I'd much rather be that girl, going to relief, learning skills that would allow her to have a normal life instead of going to war. Helping those in the aftermath rather than fighting a hopeless fight.
