Dusk had settled over the quiet outskirts of a town, casting long shadows across the worn walls of a small, creaking hut. Inside, a teenage boy methodically wiped down the wooden table, the remnants of dinner now cleared away. Beside him sat an elderly woman, her hair as white as snow, her age showing in the soft lines of her weathered face—seventy, perhaps eighty.
"Have you decided, Adel?" she asked, her voice gentle but steady.
Adel paused, sighing as he scratched the back of his head, his brow furrowed in annoyance.
"I don't want to," he muttered. "Being betrothed at this age… it's just too early."
He shook his head. "I don't even know who the girl is. Sure, she might be beautiful and kind… but there's just as much chance that she's not."
The old woman let out a light laugh, warm and nostalgic. "I know that feeling all too well, Adel. That's exactly how I felt before I met your father."
Adel looked away, lips tightening.
He's not even my real father… and I've never even met him.
He kept the thought to himself, the words a whisper inside his mind.
"I've cleaned the table,"
he said aloud.
"I'm going to sleep now. Let's talk about this another time."
He turned away, already heading toward the back of the hut.
"Goodnight, Ma."
The next morning.
A sharp knock echoed from the front door. Adel, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, went to open it. Standing outside was a young man, about the same age as him, breathing heavily as if he had run the whole way.
"Adel! There's a call at the town square. Soldiers from the Empire have arrived!"
Adel glanced over his shoulder. In the kitchen, his mother was preparing breakfast, her hands busy slicing root vegetables.
"Ma! I'll be back before you finish cooking!"
"Haha, this child... The moment he hears 'soldiers,' he takes off like the wind,"
she chuckled, shaking her head with fondness.
At the town square
A crowd had already gathered—hundreds, maybe even thousands. The air buzzed with hushed murmurs and speculation. At the center of the square stood a raised platform. Upon it was a man clad in a regal golden robe, flanked by two guards. One of the guards held a long black scroll, its ends glinting with silver.
In front of the platform, forty soldiers stood in two disciplined rows, their armor glinting under the morning sun.
"SILENCE!"
The command came from one of the guards beside the man in gold—his crimson cape and ornate armor marked him as a high-ranking officer. The crowd instantly hushed.
With a solemn expression, the robed man unrolled the black scroll.
"By decree of His Imperial Majesty," he began, his voice loud and clear, "all men of able body—anyone who can lift a stone or throw it with force—shall be armed in preparation for conscription."
Before he could finish the proclamation, Adel was already sprinting back the way he came.
Recruitment? Armed? War?
These were the whispers that rippled through the crowd as Adel raced past them, his feet pounding against the earth.
He wasn't running out of fear.
No.
Adel's face gleamed with joy, his eyes alight with purpose. He wasn't fleeing from war—he was running toward it.
As if wolves were chasing him.
As if life itself was calling his name.
Adel burst through the door of his home, his heart racing faster than his legs ever could. His mother turned, startled, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Adel?" she said, seeing the excitement burning in his eyes. "What's the matter? You just left—"
"There's a conscription and i'm enlisting"
Adel interrupted
His mother's face darkened slightly.
"Conscription? Why now?"
"I don't know the reason yet. I came sprinting as fast as I could after hearing those words—to tell you that I'm enlisting."
His hands trembled not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.
Anticipation.
"I've always wanted to become a solder" Adel said, his voice breathless. "This could also be my chance to escape being betrothed ."
His mother stepped forward, concern etched into every line of her face.
"You don't even know for what this conscription is. What if—"
"I don't care,"
he said.
"I have to go, Ma. I need to."
She stared at him, eyes misting—not out of sadness, but out of something closer to pride and fear twisted together.
She sighed then smiled towards him
He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. Then he turned and ran once more—this time not toward the unknown, but straight into it.
Adel didn't stop running until he reached the hill overlooking the town—the one he'd always climbed as a boy.
Adel stood still, breath heaving, as the wind brushed his face. Infront him, the village still buzzed with confused voices and the echo of the decree.
Then he smiled.
Moments later at the town square
The man in the golden robe had finished reading. Names were being called. Young men stepped forward, one by one, eyes wide with fear or filled with resolve.
Adel pushed through the crowd.
The soldiers had begun sorting the men by age and build. Some cried. Some begged. Some fought.
"I want to enlist!"
he called out
"My name is Adel"
Some turned to look at him, others scoffed but the officer with the red cape looked straight at him.
"You?" the man said, his voice unreadable. "Step forward."
Adel did.
The officer walked over, then glanced at Adel's lean, wiry build.
"Can you fight?"
Adel didn't hesitate. "Not yet."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because I will,"
he said, lifting his chin.
"Because I want to protect this town. Because I won't wait for someone else to fight for us."
The officer stared at him for a moment longer, then gave a quiet nod.
"Report here tomorrow at noon. Say your farewells to your family and friends.""
A smile broke across Adel's face.
This was it.
The first step toward something greater than the quiet life he'd always known. A spark had been lit—and it would soon grow into fire.