The afternoon sun hung heavy over the Angloran military barracks, washing the compound in a pale gold. The air buzzed with movement, young recruits in loose civilian clothes lining up outside the gates, trucks rolling in with supplies, the metallic echo of boots on pavement carrying across the grounds. The barracks themselves were a mix of discipline and austerity: grey stone buildings trimmed with steel, their sharp edges softened by rows of flagpoles, banners rippling restlessly in the late-summer wind.
Inside the administrative wing, Major General Axel Luther stood at the window of his office. His uniform was crisp, every button polished, the stars on his shoulder gleaming. He wasn't watching the recruits below so much as weighing them with his thoughts.
This year's recruitment program was different. Rushed. Complicated. A mask over desperation. The tension between Anglora and Valorn had reached its breaking point, and the military's thirst for new blood was more pressing than ever. Axel could feel it in his bones, another war wasn't just coming. It was inevitable.
He exhaled through his nose, hands clasped behind his back. While the nation prepared for war, his family seemed more concerned with arranging his marriage. Old Luther, his grandfather, was relentless, the man's voice still ringing in Axel's memory from their last conversation. 'four grandchildren. And none of you settled! None married! Am I to die without seeing the Luther name secured?'
Axel didn't resent them. He understood. The Luther line carried weight, legacy, and expectation. But he had no space in his mind for love or marriage. Not with the storm building on the horizon.
A sharp knock cut through his thoughts.
"Come in," Axel said, his voice even.
The door opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped inside. His hair was blond, streaked with gray, his face lined with years of discipline. He wore the insignia of a Brigaider General. Nathan Vernon. One of the most respected officers, personally trained by the late "traitor" Isaac Eckstein.
Nathan snapped a precise salute before speaking. "Major General, I bring a message from the High Command." His tone carried the weight of duty, steady and unyielding. He produced a sealed envelope, the red wax of the General's insignia still fresh. "The General has ordered that you personally oversee the training of the incoming recruits."
Axel's brows pulled together for the briefest second, a flicker of surprise so controlled it was barely there. Personally? It wasn't unusual for him to inspect recruits, but direct training was another matter entirely. Something about this request didn't sit right.
"Understood," he said, taking the envelope. His fingers brushed the seal, but he didn't open it yet.
Nathan saluted once more, his face neutral, unreadable. But as he turned to leave, a faint glint crossed his eyes, sharp, quick, gone in an instant.
Axel watched the door close, this letter only confirmed his thoughts: The war would happen.