Jacques went numb with shock, and looked at his dad, who looked utterly bewildered as well. The ones who were already selected for warriors cheered their support.

Jacques slowly returned to his seat, mind boggled. What am I supposed to do now? He thought. Is it possible to request a change of categories? Hearing someone sit next to him woke him out of his thoughts. Pierre had come down from the judging panel to check on his son.

Slowly stroking Jacques’ shoulder, he muttered, “Maybe this is for the best. You always had the physical ability to become a warrior.” But Jacques could not forget the look of surprise, and disappointment, on his father’s face when his results were read out.

“Besides,” Pierre added. “With a pass rate of 22.3%, you should be proud!” Jacques smiled uneasily, not saying a word.

“Does this mean I’ll have to join the Armie?” He questioned tentatively. The Armie were a large group of new warriors that patrolled the continent, looking for invaders or illegal immigrants. They were also responsible for collecting taxes, and other menial warrior tasks.

“Not if you prove that you’re better than foot soldiers,” Pierre answered, as all the warriors were called together for a meeting in the Warriors Mess Hall. “I probably won’t be seeing a lot of you, son.”

Jacques hugged his dad, “I promise I’ll visit as much as I can.”

9th of Janviay, 0000 A.C.

Afternoon

Warriors Mess Hall, Kingfisher Avenue, Ravissant Brotherhood.

“ALL RIGHT!” a man’s voice rang out through the mess hall. “Assemble at the main table for the meeting!” It was a rather large bald man, with an orange, bushy, beard. “I am the guide for the new warrior recruits, and you’ll be given tasks depending on your skills.”

Jacques ran into Jeanne, who was also assigned to Warriors. “What a surprise,” she grinned welcomingly. “You’ll do great here. The warriors probably need someone with a good grasp of politics.”

The rest of the afternoon went into assigning warriors into different sub-groups including the Armie, the Armoury, and Logistics. After all the ones who were given a sub-group were dismissed, only ten, including Jacques, Jeanne and Anarax, remained in the Hall.

“Wait,” Jacques called. “Why wasn’t I assigned to any sub group?” The bald man, Awkrin, stared at him. “You didn’t fill the requirements of any one group,” he answered.

Jacques felt a ball drop to the pit of his stomach. He was underqualified?

“What I meant by that was,” Awkrin clarified. “You are able to join any group you wish, as the ten of you, are currently the top ten recruits, skill-wise.”

In elation, Jacques looked at the other nine. They also looked pleased, mostly at the prospect of not being kicked out of the category.

“But, we have a proposal for you,” Awkrin smiled. “You guys have a chance to be in charge of the sub-groups. You will be called the Elites.”

Jeanne raised her hand.

“Yes, Ms. Fensieaux?”

“I was wondering,” Jeanne ventured. “Do we get any special mandate, if we were the elite ten?”

“Glad you asked,” he pulled out a large book. “This is the Elite manual. This contains all information about your duties, special missions, privileges, uniforms, salary, and FAQ’s.”

“Wait, we get paid?” Jacques asked, to a round of laughter.

“Of course, kid!” Awkrin grinned jovially as he handed out a book to each elite. “But remember, the position of an elite is not like getting tenure. You can easily be demoted due to lack of contribution, inappropriate behaviour and such.”

Jacques joyfully opened his manual. He couldn’t wait to tell Pierre!