A young man in uniform walks down a wheat-covered hill. He walks with his arms outstretched, gently brushing the golden spikes with his open palms. He feels the touch on his skin and takes a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. He keeps his head held high, gazing at the sky. Deep blue, serene, though at times it seems to shine as if reflecting something invisible.
When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he noticed was the sound.
Voices. Footsteps on the ground. The metallic clink of buckles, sheaths, and straps. He lowered his gaze to see the group marching ahead, lined up in two rows.
The group moved with a steady pace, like a well-trained unit. Most were wearing the standard uniform: a two-piece black suit, fitted to the body, with metallic details subtly gleaming in the sun. Some carried swords of various sizes. Those who didn't carried briefcases. Large, medium, small. Some carried them with both hands, others with one, and some even wore them on their backs like backpacks. There was something intriguing about the briefcases, as if they were more than mere objects; they seemed to reflect the practicality of the mission ahead.
The young man looked more closely at the others. A few stood out, wearing long, light coats, as though defying the day's heat. The coats fluttered as they walked, a contrast to the rigid uniforms.
The wind stirred the fabrics, creating a sense of perpetual movement, as if they were always advancing, always crossing into the unknown.
The young man stopped for a moment, looking at his own dusty shoes. The rigidity of the uniforms and the way the briefcases swung back and forth reminded him of the firmness of the decision. There was no turning back.
Suddenly, he felt someone's presence beside him. A heavy, steady step accompanied him. It was his uncle, who appeared with a crooked smile, leaning on his waist as if in no hurry to keep up with the group's pace.
– Uncle? You're coming too? – Kaep asked, not taking his eyes off the group.
The adult glanced at him sideways before responding, with a soft laugh that didn't try to hide the calmness of his attitude.
– Of course. You can trust me... though not for everything, and not always.
The young man turned toward him, finding on his face the same mix of fatigue and determination he'd seen in other adults before embarking on something important. His uncle's eyes were filled with a melancholic wisdom, as if he had already lived much of what Kaep was yet to experience.
– But putting that aside, let's go. – Kaep waved his hand forward, as if there was no time to wait any longer.
The uncle, with a fluid movement, began walking alongside him, keeping pace with the others, though with a relaxed attitude. Around them, the bustling port grew louder, with echoes of farewells and the voices of merchants trying to attract the attention of newcomers.
The terrain changed as they moved. The wheat field was left behind, replaced by paths marked by the recent passage of wheels and boots. In the distance, makeshift wooden structures began to appear: unfinished towers, open warehouses, improvised platforms.
It was the provisional port.
It still smelled of freshly cut wood, wet rope, and unpolished metal. The bustle grew thicker. Whole families huddled near the docks. Some cried silently, others spoke too loudly to mask their fear. They were saying goodbye to children, siblings, partners. Among the soldiers, the atmosphere was different: no one seemed to want to show too much. At most, there were some muffled laughs, pats on the back, comments about the backpacks or the heat.
The young man and his uncle moved through them. With each step, they dodged people carrying boxes, animals being pushed toward small auxiliary boats, and local merchants offering dried fruits, blankets, and fermented drinks. Everything had that raw tone of a city that was still not a city.
Ahead of them, the river. Immense. So wide that the opposite shore couldn't be clearly distinguished. In the horizon, the sea began to merge with the sky. There were no visible boundaries, only water and glow.
– Nice view, huh, Kaep? – said the uncle, stopping for a moment.
Kaep nodded. His gaze was fixed on the horizon.
– Yeah... it is. – He paused. – By the way, where are we going?
The uncle took a moment to respond, as if he didn't expect the question. Then, with a casual tone, he began to speak as they resumed walking.
– As far as I know, we're going first to a coastal fortress city. From there, we'll head to another further inland.
– Why that route?
– Hmm... – The uncle tilted his head. – I think it's because that second city is part of an Alliance project. A new citadel, the fifth, if I'm not mistaken.
Kaep turned toward him with interest.
– Citadel?
– Uh-huh. A city built to withstand what others can't. A bastion. Apparently, it'll be one of the few truly safe places on this continent.
– Impressive... – Kaep murmured.
– Right? And we'll be part of that. Well, probably just as a provisional military force. Nothing too glorious.
Kaep frowned. "That's a letdown..."
The uncle raised a hand in a conciliatory gesture.
– Although we could also stay as permanent citizens if we wanted. It wouldn't be strange if they open the registry later on.
Kaep glanced at him sideways.
– Uncle... how much do you know about where we're going?
– About the city?
– The region.
The adult fell silent for a moment, looking at the ground as if searching for an answer buried beneath his boots.
– I don't know.
– Nothing?
– Not in detail, no. But I doubt they'd build a citadel in too dangerous an area. They wouldn't waste so many resources on a place on the brink of disaster. It should be safe... at least in theory.
At that moment, the uncle raised his gaze and pointed toward a small area between the warehouses.
– Look, there they are. Your parents. Looks like they made it in time to say goodbye.
Kaep turned his head and saw them. His mother, his father. Standing, waiting for him. No tears, but their bodies were tense. As if something within them was resisting the moment.
They both approached. The uncle was the first, greeting his brother with a relaxed gesture. They spoke of trivial things: the journey, the food, a family memory said quietly. Then they conversed a little more seriously, in brief murmurs, about the boarding details and the destination. There didn't seem to be many certainties. Just suggested routes.
Kaep's mother was the next to approach. She took him by the shoulders and spoke directly, though with contained tenderness.
She asked him to take care of his uniform, to eat enough, to avoid bad sleep, to write as soon as he arrived. She spoke of the neighboring continent as if it were a distant yet attainable place. Not a dream, but a real place where he could begin something new.
Finally, he stood in front of his father.
They looked at each other in silence.
The bustling of the port continued. But for Kaep, for a moment, all of that disappeared.
Kaep's father stood with his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed, as if measuring something invisible. He didn't seem nervous, nor sad. But there was tension in his jaw, in the way he kept his heels together, in how he didn't fully relax his shoulders.
Kaep stopped in front of him. For a moment, neither spoke.
– Are you ready? – his father asked bluntly.
– I think so.
– It's not the same to think as it is to be. But you'll understand that soon.
Kaep nodded silently.
His father looked at him intently. He adjusted the collar of his uniform with a dry, almost automatic gesture, and then spoke again:
– Don't get distracted by what doesn't matter. You'll see things you won't understand at first. Some you'll never understand. Don't try to make sense of them. Just move forward.
Kaep held his gaze. "He's saying it like he's seen it all himself..."
It was the same voice as always, the same stern look he had grown up seeing. But now he didn't feel it as a wall. It was something else. Like his father also knew that, after today, he wouldn't see him the same again.
– Any more advice?
His father hesitated for a moment. Then he lowered his voice.
– Don't try to stand out. Try to last.
Silence. Kaep blinked, swallowing. His father placed a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't a loving gesture. It was firm, almost like marking territory.
– And if something happens... keep your head cool. It's the only thing you'll have out there.
– I know.
– No, you don't. But you'll learn it.
One more pause.
Then his father reached inside his coat. He pulled out a small envelope, folded in half, with the edge worn. He held it for a second before extending it to him.
– This is your name out there.
Kaep took it without saying anything.
– Open it when you're on the ship. – His father's voice didn't tremble, but it dropped a tone. – Use it well.
Kaep tucked it into the inner pocket of his uniform, without looking inside.
At that moment, a siren sounded. Three sharp tones. The boarding was starting.
Kaep's mother hugged him quickly again. The uncle returned to his side, carrying the briefcase. The group began to regroup, heading toward the dock.
Kaep took one last look at his father. He was watching him without moving, as if the whole farewell act had already been completed.
– Go on. You're where you need to be.
Kaep nodded. He turned around. And without saying another word, he began walking toward the ship, with the envelope pressed against his chest.
---
Walking among the uniformed men along the wooden walkway—sturdier than it looked and creaking softly under their boots—Kaep's uncle caught up with him. The salty sea breeze mixed with the oiled-metal scent of the soldiers' weapons. Seeing that Kaep hadn't noticed him, he placed a hand on his shoulder, firm but not rough.
Kaep turned without stopping. He smiled… but his expression couldn't hide the storm of emotions within him. The corner of his mouth trembled, and his eyes gleamed with a mixture of anxiety and something deeper. His uncle noticed immediately, frowning slightly.
Just before they turned down the walkway leading onto the ship, the uncle pushed Kaep aside with a controlled shove—strong enough to make him step back. Some nearby reacted in surprise; others were simply intrigued. Why would an adult push a young man without provocation? Still, the uncle ignored the stares and caught Kaep by the shoulder just in time to keep him from falling.
Then, a hand rested on the uncle's shoulder. It was rough, leathery like old hide.
"Family matter. Just clearing something up," he said, his tone unchanged. But his words didn't stop a few from casting disapproving looks.
Some seemed ready to intervene, but their companions held them back with slight head shakes or quiet murmurs. A few said they knew both of them and assured it was nothing serious. Many assumed the boy was just emotional about the departure. Some nodded in silence, others whispered that they felt the same.
The fragile atmosphere of joy that surrounded them shattered in an instant. The cheerful murmur of the dock gave way to a tense silence.
"Oops, looks like I messed that up a bit," said the uncle with a crooked grin, like someone trying to ease the tension with a poorly placed joke. He turned to Kaep and bent slightly to meet his eye level, placing both hands on his shoulders and locking eyes with him in a direct, almost paternal gaze. "You okay?"
Still surprised by how quickly things had escalated, Kaep glanced at the water for a moment, as if searching for an answer there. Only when his uncle repeated the question did he respond.
"Ah… yeah, I'm okay."
"Hmm. Seems like what just happened lightened your mood," he said, giving Kaep a pat on the shoulder. "Though I didn't expect it to get out of hand."
"Right? What now? Everyone's boarding," Kaep said, nodding forward with his chin.
"First, let's see the new name your father gave you—"
He was interrupted by the horn signaling final boarding. The metallic sound echoed over the calm water.
"Hmm… well, no big deal. Tell me while we board."
"No, you board with me first. The new recruits come after," interrupted a senior officer, wearing the same insignia as Kaep's uncle. His voice was deep, his weathered face leaving no room for debate.
The man turned around and the uncle followed, but not before glancing back at Kaep, raising an eyebrow and signaling with a slight nod:
"I'll see you on board."
A while later, it was the new recruits' turn to board the ship.
The vessel, imposing and metal-structured, was large enough to comfortably house the nearly twenty-five selected youths, several uniformed adults, and a crew of at least ten more. The deck echoed hollowly underfoot, and the metal—polished in places, dull in others—showed patches where traces of old wood could still be seen.
The ship wasn't particularly complex in design, painted almost entirely in black and shades of gray. In certain areas, polished wooden planks gave it a nostalgic air of luxury. Someone was heard asking a crew member why it had wooden parts if it was clearly a metal ship.
The crewman replied enthusiastically:
"It's the other way around, friend. The ship is metal, but was covered with wood for aesthetic reasons. The captain tried to turn it into a luxury vessel for tourism. Didn't quite work out."
Many turned toward him, including Kaep and his uncle. His loud, charismatic voice drew attention, and soon a small circle of curious listeners surrounded him.
"A week after it launched, a high-ranking officer requisitioned this ship for your group," he went on. "With help from a local mage and what little was left of the captain's funds, they reinforced it with emergency metal plating. A last-minute patch job, but it worked."
The crewman spoke with overflowing pride. He gestured dramatically as he spoke and smiled broadly, clearly enjoying being the center of attention.
"Luckily, after this trip we're getting paid a fortune, and we'll even gain certain rights thanks to you. The luxury look turned out to be a good investment. It draws opportunities. Who knows… with luck, we might officially join an Imperial military branch. Maybe even serve under a Seat directly."
The enthusiasm was contagious. Some laughed, others exchanged hopeful looks. They talked about aspirations, goals, dreams…
"Aiming to be a Seat?" Kaep murmured, intrigued by the mention.
"Yeah… that's dreaming big. Real big," said his uncle, appearing beside him through the crowd, arms crossed. His expression was more serious now, though still calm.
"Uncle? You're done with your thing?"
"Yeah. It was nothing, really," he said, shrugging.
"By the way, is that Seat stuff true?"
"Yeah. It's not widely known, since those guys operate in near-total secrecy. But…" —he lowered his voice and leaned close to Kaep's ear— "they're monsters. A whole different league."
Kaep's eyes widened. His uncle straightened and crossed his arms again.
"That's why I don't think anyone here will reach that level."
"Really? Like the people in legends or fairy tales?" Kaep asked, both excited and skeptical.
His uncle chuckled briefly, then sighed.
"You can say that because you're just starting out. But people of that caliber… you don't get there just by climbing ranks. There's something else. Something… that can't be taught."
"You're scaring me."
"Sorry. But it's true."
"You speak from experience?"
"Not personal experience. I'm not that seasoned. Maybe three years into this, tops."
"Hmm… and if it is personal, who would it be?"
"You know him."
"Huh? Don't tell me…"
"Yep. Your father. He's my older brother for a reason. He's got stories he still hasn't told you."
Kaep's eyes lit up like he'd just uncovered a secret hidden in his own home.
"Will you tell me?"
"Sure. But not now. With all this noise, it'd be wasted. Let's wait for things to settle down."
Kaep frowned slightly, disappointed, but nodded. Then, a deep, resonant horn sounded—signal to prepare for departure.
Everyone except the crew began lining up in two rows and moving toward two identical metal doors, the entry point to the ship. The uniformed officers gave brief, clear instructions, guiding the process.
Kaep figured maybe they'd talk about the continent once inside. At school, they hardly taught anything about other lands. Maps were limited to the Imperial territory or his hometown.
As everyone walked inside, a uniformed man with notably different decorations—a short cape, medals on his chest, and an air of authority—approached the talkative crewman.
"Nice work earlier. I'm surprised how naturally you pull it off," he said.
The crewman scratched his neck, smiling.
"Thank you, sir. Before we were hired, I was in charge of public relations. My job was to make visitors feel at home."
The officer nodded, impressed.
"Smart move keeping that role. Though personally, I liked the ship's old look better. More classic. Still, can't complain. Reinforcing it was the smart call. You never know what we'll run into, even if we're taking the shortest route."
As they spoke, they noticed a boy searching the deck, visibly worried.
"Looking for this?" the officer asked, holding up a short sword with a black hilt.
The boy nodded urgently.
"It's my uncle's," he said.
"Your name?"
"Kaep."
The officer raised an eyebrow.
"That your new name?"
Kaep shook his head.
"Then what is it?"
Kaep reached into his jacket and pulled out a letter sealed with his family's crest. He opened it with trembling hands and, after reading it, said quietly:
"Eilor."