The sun crept over the horizon, spilling molten gold across the rolling fields of Havenbrook, a small village tucked between the southern hills and the dense forests of Solaria.
Smoke curled lazily from the chimneys of the thatched cottages, mingling with the scent of fresh bread and damp earth. Chickens clucked in the yards, and the distant bleat of goats echoed across the valley.
Life here was simple, quiet, and insulated from the grandeur and politics of Sunspire Palace. In a modest home at the edge of the village, Kallan tightened the straps of his worn leather satchel.
His chestnut hair fell over sharp green eyes that seemed to glow with determination and curiosity. He was tall for seventeen, shoulders broad from farm work and daily sword drills.
His fingers brushed over the hilt of the sword his father had forged before he died—a silent blessing etched in steel. His mother, Mira, stood in the doorway, her hands clasped together tightly.
Her brown hair streaked with silver was pinned neatly atop her head. Her amber eyes glimmered with worry as she studied her son, refusing to let her tears fall.
"Kallan… promise me you will survive the five years," she said softly, gripping his shoulder. "Remember what I taught you… honor, courage, and never falter in the face of fear."
"I know, Mother," Kallan replied gently, placing his hand over hers. "I will make you proud.Solaria needs me,I will serve faithfully and I will return. I will survive."
A distant bell tolled, signaling the kingdom's conscription muster. As he walked through the village, watching the green oak banner of Baron Waldenburg lapsing in the wind, Kallan revisited memories of the times the villagers helped him and his family.
The merchant Kuan who gave them grain and meat, the village tailors, Mr and Mrs Faller who always supported them,and the fisherman brothers Jim and Tallin, his father's friends, who always lend a helping hand.
His heart aches at the thought of leaving his mother, but he knows that there is no one better to leave her with that the good people of Havenbrook. He has to leave all worry at the village gates and steel himself for the challenges that await.
Villagers gathered along the King's road as young men were assembled to be led toward the Heavy Tank Regiment Barracks of Brig. Gen. Count Falko Drachensberg for their mandatory five-year service.
Kallan adjusted his cloak, took a deep breath of the crisp morning air, and stepped forward, the
cobblestones beneath his boots seeming heavier than usual under the weight of unspoken goodbyes.