A soft morning haze settled over the marble streets of Herene as Liora and her father made their way toward the military base. The golden banners of the royal crest fluttered behind them, drawing respectful bows from every guard they passed.
Liora's expression stayed firm. Her father, on the other hand, looked like a man walking his daughter to her first day of school—reluctant, protective, and just a little sad.
"Dad," she sighed, breaking the silence. "I know where the base is. You don't have to come with me."
"Actually," he replied, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, "I do. You're not allowed to sign yourself in—you're only fourteen. I need to sign the paperwork for you."
Liora frowned. "Kids my age—and younger—are already in the military."
"Because their parents allow it," he explained. "That's why we have more than one type of army. The younger ones—below sixteen—never go to war. They just train, patrol the safe zones, that kind of thing."
She squinted at him. "How come I've never heard of that?"
"It's common sense," he said with a shrug. "We're not heartless. We don't send children to the front lines. Altrath keeps insisting we use every available troop, but I don't agree with that madness."
"Fair enough," Liora murmured, but the way she said it told him she wasn't entirely convinced.
The massive gates of the base loomed ahead—iron and gold, carved with the crest of Aetherwyn's sun. As they stepped inside, conversation and movement rippled through the lobby. Soldiers stopped what they were doing, standing straighter, saluting as the king entered with his daughter.
They approached the registration counter, where a young elf woman sat sorting through piles of parchment. The King grinned. "Hey, Eli. My daughter wants to enroll—is that fine?"
The clerk—Eli—blinked in surprise before smiling warmly. "Absolutely, Your Majesty. I'll just need some information about her first."
She handed him a parchment and a quill dipped in black ink. The King passed them to Liora with a small nod.
As Liora leaned over the counter, filling out her details with elegant, practiced handwriting, her father and Eli began chatting softly beside her.
"So she really wants to join, huh?" Eli whispered, half teasing. "Didn't think the princess of Herene would trade silks for steel."
The King chuckled, but his eyes looked weary. "She's got her mother's stubbornness. Once she decides something, it's better to just… follow along."
When Liora finally finished writing, she turned the parchment back toward Eli, who began reading aloud:
"Liora Arias, date of birth—14th of september, year 1XXX. Height: 177 cm, weight: sixty-four kilograms… Constellation: Thalora." Eli looked up with a grin. "same as your mother"
She continued scanning the paper. "Best aspects—speed and battle intelligence. Huh. Impressive. You got her an IQ test yet?"
The King laughed softly. "Nope. Too young. But she's sharp. Smarter than I was at her age, that's for sure."
Eli nodded approvingly. "Alright, then everything's in order. You can either stay here today and get used to the place or come tomorrow for the capability test."
Liora didn't hesitate. "I'll stay."
The King smiled faintly at her confidence, though as she walked away toward the barracks, he discreetly wiped at his eyes.
He whispered under his breath, "already leaving your dad behind.."
---
The day drifted by in soft hums of noise—steel clanging against training dummies, instructors barking orders, the chatter of recruits echoing through the open courtyards.
Liora wandered through the base, taking in every detail—the soldiers running drills, the smell of polished metal and sweat, the banners rippling in the wind. For the first time in her life, she wasn't being followed by guards or servants. It felt… freeing.
Eventually, she found the sleeping quarters. Rows of neatly made bunks lined the long room, sunlight slipping through narrow windows. The moment she stepped in, conversation stopped.
Dozens of heads turned.
Every recruit—mostly elves around her age or a bit younger—went still. Their pointed ears twitched in sync, that unmistakable elven tell of flustered admiration. Liora, in her casual royal tunic and calm stride, didn't even look their way. She simply scanned the rows until she found an unclaimed bed near the far end.
She sat down, placed her small satchel beside her, and began methodically arranging her belongings.
The silence lingered, thick and awkward. A few whispers broke it—
"Is that… the princess?"
"She's taller than I expected…"
"Shes so cute-"
Liora pretended not to hear any of it. She fluffed the pillow, straightened the sheets, then finally lay back and stared at the wooden ceiling.
Her first thought wasn't about nerves, or home, or even her father's face when she'd walked away.
It was:
"Holy shit, this mattress is stiff."
She exhaled through her nose, half a laugh, half a sigh. "Welcome to the military, I guess."