The group he ignored skulked their way over to where he was and forced their way into the conversation.

The kid with the weird trench cloak spoke first, "Greetings, milady. I will choose esquire. Then I shall stick with using a katana; it 'twould be an honour to serve at your side as a ninjurai master."

The wisdom wonderkid loomed over, snot drooling from his face, decided it was his turn next. "My mum said if I pick anything notebook-related, it'll SNOOOOORTS affect my allergies,"

"Ah, shut up, Hankae. Can't you see how much pain I'm in? My life fucking sucks. I'm picking knuckler, so I can punch the walls and not break my hand." said the venting teen, Huum.

"This isn't normal, just so you know, Lambacardley."

Lambacardley stared off into the distance, thinking, Why do I only attract the weird ones?

Picking up where they left off, Horace told Lambacardi about the event ahead without the bottom-barrel boys interrupting.

"You pick one of four classes:

"An Esquire is like a soldier; he uses swords and shit. A Knuckler fights with his hands, cesti and things like that. Bow boys fight with bows, crossbows and slingshots.

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"How is a slingshot a bow?" She interrupted by saying

"How is it not?" Horace replied, matching her face scrunch.

"What's the last class, then? You said there were four?"

Snapping back to reality, Horace replied, "Wand waver, is the last."

"Let me guess..." Lambacardley began to say, "It fights with wands and things that aren't wands, right?"

"Why do you keep doing that?" Horace replied, scrunching his face up so much his mum was starting to pick up the negative energy.

***

"Hayle, Horace is going into meltdown mode. My ears are burning."

"Ahh fucking ace, brah; he'll be ok, babes. Me boys a rizz sizzler, nah mean?"

"You're so lucky. That fucking language drives me crazy, Hayle."

"Heh, love you too babe, no cap."

***

Horace told her about all the different classes and weapons, and his newfound acquaintance was just more and more confused by the second.

"Fuuking ell la. We have to pick something for forever and hope it isn't shit...then just go about like everything's normal? How the fuuk is a book in the same category as a wand? This is kettling me head." [This is hurting my head]

Seems like a normal thing to me; it's a lùth class; it's perfectly fitting...what's kettling me head mean, though?"

"You're making my head hurt,"

"Oh, ok... Well, I'm picking Bow Boy. Want to be a Sieginator like my mum. She's fucking fire, brah; low-key, am gonna be just like her. What are you gonna pick?

"Dunno; we'll see how I feel in the moment." Lambacardley looked troubled, but the sentient sentries made an appearance.

The Sentries wore health and safety yellow robes, leather and plate metal armours, looking tragically neon. The sentries of the school walked out of the domed building, barely smaller than Horace's trailer home.

They also clearly rehearsed the speech five minutes before they left, because the four spoke together as they greeted the students, barely synchronised: "We, the four, greet you. For today, you will join with billions of other sentients on the glorious world of Maliterr."

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