In the darkness of the night, seven stars flew across the sky. One got lost in time, one disappeared from sight, one slowly faded away, one followed an arranged path, one shone brightly, brimming with energy, one flew slowly as if burdened by thoughts, and one only existed in the eyes of the beholders.
…
The sun was hiding behind the clouds, and the wind howled through the narrow streets of Luska. It carried with it the scent of salt, fish, and the faintest tinge of rain.
Corvin stood outside the bakery, the weight of a well-worn, leather-bound book pressed against his side. The stall's front was wide open, and the comforting warmth of freshly baked bread spilled out, offering a fleeting refuge from the cool breeze.
His eyes, sharp and dark beneath wind-tossed black hair, scanned the last lines of a passage he'd nearly memorized.
'There are only four months left before the national selection starts.'
Corvin sighed deeply. He was preparing—always preparing.
'Soon, I'll be able to enroll in a prestigious university. Soon… Soon…'
"Two loaves, please," he said, barely glancing up as he reached for his coin pouch.
Before the baker could respond, a voice rang out—deep, commanding, and sudden.
"Citizens of Luska! Gather in the square immediately! An urgent message from the Count!"
Corvin flinched, blinking up toward the source of the voice. It echoed across rooftops, across dockside alleys, and the fish-stinking nets strung between drying racks.
The mayor?
'What in the world…?'
He gripped the warm bread awkwardly in one arm and drifted with the growing crowd toward the town square. Anxiety simmered in his chest, faint but constant.
The square was already filled with townsfolk by the time he arrived—fishmongers, carpenters, sailors. All eyes were on the raised makeshift wooden platform where Mayor Harven, wide-shouldered and weathered, stood flanked by two guards.
Corvin found himself surrounded. The air was thick with murmurs.
The mayor raised both hands, his voice booming:
"The Attalian Empire has breached the Illyrian mountain. As of this morning, the Valerian Kingdom is at war."
Gasps broke out across the square.
Corvin felt a cold stab in his chest.
'No. War? But that's—no. Not here. Not in Luska.'
He clutched the bread tighter.
Mayor Harven didn't wait for the reaction to die down. His voice took on a graver note.
"This is not just a declaration. It is a call. Every household must volunteer one healthy man to support the kingdom's forces. The order comes directly from the Count."
Confusion rippled outward.
Corvin's mind stuttered.
'Volunteer one man? That's… how can it be voluntary if it's required?'
He thought of his home. Of his mother, who didn't have a job and had been tending the house for years. Of his sister Jelena, younger but already working hard to keep her schooling going. And his father—strong, but their only source of income.
'It can't be him. It has to be me.'
As his thoughts settled, he felt a chill run down his spine.
'If I were to participate in the war… What's left for my future?'
"Now listen," the mayor continued, seeing the panic rise. "You're not going to the front lines. This is a support mission. The Count's army was ambushed near Vadar Castle and was trapped. We are sending reinforcements to aid them. The campaign will be short—just long enough to push the enemy back and secure the fort."
The crowd quieted slightly.
He looked down at himself—his short stature standing inside the crowd like a dwarf, his lanky arms barely strong enough to carry groceries, his robe pulled tight against the cold.
'This is what they want to send into battle? Me?'
His hands, still faintly dusted with charcoal from note-taking the night before, trembled.
He scanned the crowd, searching for something, anything familiar—and there he was.
Moxa.
Leaning against a stone post near the fountain, arms crossed over his chest, Moxa looked almost like part of the square itself. He was stocky, black-haired like Corvin but with broader shoulders and an ease to his stance. He wore the simple leather uniform of a town guard—relaxed posture, his mouth always curling up as if he wanted to smile.
But his eyes weren't smiling.
Corvin took a breath and made his way over.
Moxa spotted him and raised an eyebrow.
"Well," he said, his voice low, "look who's about to become a war hero. You might even be the next Attalia!"
Corvin managed a weak smile.
"A hero? Attalia? I can barely carry this bread without being carried by the wind."
Moxa gave him a light thump on the back.
"They'll probably put you in charge of supply lists. Or feeding the mules."
Corvin looked down at his arms again.
'He's joking. Of course, he is. But he's not wrong.'
"Do I really look like soldier material?"
Moxa gave him a side glance, his tone softer.
"Honestly? No. But neither do most of the folks here."
'He's trying to keep things light. Always does when he's worried.'
"You worried?" Corvin asked, quieter now.
Moxa's smile faded slightly. He glanced toward the square, where people were still murmuring in tense huddles.
"A bit," he admitted. "I signed up to guard fishing boats and drunkards, not castles under siege. But hey... if it's just supporting a noble's army, we're not gonna see real fighting. Probably."
'Probably.' The word didn't sit well.
"But still..." Corvin began.
"You'll be fine," Moxa said, cutting him off with a smirk. "Worst case, you trip over your own boots and make the enemy die laughing."
Corvin huffed a quiet laugh.
"Better that than getting stuck with a spear."
They stood in silence for a moment. The square was filled with concerned faces, murmurs, and discussions.
The mayor continued:
"This is an urgent matter. The enrollment needs to be done within the next two days. We will head out at dawn the day after that."
'So soon?!'
Corvin glanced up at the sky.
'Everything's changing, just like that. I was supposed to be studying today. Preparing for the academy.'
But now?
The mayor's voice faded, the makeshift podium was now an enrollment point, and the crowd began to disperse slowly.
"I will have to talk to my family about this. Are you going to enroll, Moxa?" Corvin asked.
"Most likely." Moxa let out a sigh.
"Well, I guess it's time to become a soldier. See you soon, comrade." He laughed and then walked away.
'I swear this guy…'
Corvin sighed deeply, then looked at the warm bread in his arms.
It was already growing cold.