Chapter 1: Lost
Winter had arrived.
And war felt closer today than it had yesterday.
I walked through the narrow streets of the town, my boots crunching in the snow. Posters flapped in the wind—military enlistment notices pinned to rusted boards and cracked walls. I stopped in front of one.
Should I join the army… or become a mercenary?
Both paths offered coin. And both came soaked in blood.
Mother and Father would never approve.
But approval wasn't what I needed.
I wanted to grow stronger.
"Hey, kid. You thinking of enlisting?"
A soldier called out from the corner, his voice rough but not unfriendly.
I hesitated. For a moment, my feet were frozen in place.
Then I shook my head.
"No… Not today."
Just beyond the soldier's shoulder, something caught my eye.
A small, dimly lit shop tucked between two buildings. A hand-painted sign above the door read:
Fortune Teller.
I stepped past the recruiter and tipped my hat.
"Excuse me."
The air inside the shop was thick with the scent of incense and something else—age, mystery, silence. A single lamp flickered from above, casting soft light over shelves of dusty books and hanging charms.
At the center of the room, a young woman sat behind a table, perfectly still.
She was… unexpected. My whole life, I'd imagined fortune tellers as old women with crooked backs and crooked teeth.
She was neither.
She was young. Sharp-eyed. Beautiful.
And unsettlingly quiet.
"Good afternoon, madam," I said, approaching carefully. "I have something I'd like to ask—if I may."
No reply.
She sat unmoving, eyes closed. I leaned in and gently tapped her shoulder.
Still nothing.
I glanced at the deck of cards beside her, perfectly shuffled and resting like they were waiting. My curiosity grew. Not just about the cards—but her.
She couldn't have been more than my age.
She's probably been asked out more than she's been asked for fortunes, I thought.
Then, without opening her eyes, she spoke.
"If you're here to flirt, I'll have to ask you to leave."
I smirked and took the seat across from her, placing my hat on the table.
"No. I came for something real. I want to know what lies ahead for me."
Finally, she opened her eyes—just a sliver.
"All right," she said. "Write your name, your age, and your mother's name."
She slid a pen and paper across the table.
I filled it in:
Name: Hermann Herzl
Age: 18
Mother: Helena Herzl
"Why do you want to know your future?" she asked, voice neutral.
I shrugged. "Same reason anyone does. Curiosity."
I handed the paper back.
She began to shuffle the cards, her fingers swift and sure.
"You really a fortune teller?" I asked. "You don't exactly fit the image."
She didn't glance up.
"I'm filling in for my mother. She's ill."
"Huh. Even fortune tellers get sick."
She said nothing.
Then, five cards sprang out from the deck like they had minds of their own, landing in a perfect arc on the table.
She studied them for a moment. Then spoke:
"What you seek is the star.
What you long for is the moon.
They are your path—not your destination."
I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She met my eyes with a look as flat as stone.
"I don't interpret it. I just read the cards. Now pay up."
I snorted, tossing a few coins onto the table.
"Right. Guess a couple pieces of cardboard won't decide my fate."
As I turned to leave, she murmured under her breath:
"The future is raining."
Snow had begun to fall heavier by the time I stepped back into the street.
Lost in thought, I bumped into someone.
"Watch where you're going, idiot."
I turned to see a man, dressed better than most in the town, glaring at me.
"There's no need to speak like that," I replied calmly.
"Then don't get in my way," he snapped, brushing past.
"Take that back."
"Or what?"
I didn't wait. My fist collided with his face. He staggered back, then lunged at me. We traded blows, fists slamming into jaws and ribs, slipping in the wet snow.
Then—a gunshot.
Everything froze.
We turned. A figure stood across the street, his uniform far too ornate to be a simple soldier.
"Colonel Heinrich," the man I was fighting straightened up and saluted.
The colonel's eyes locked on me.
"Why are you brawling in the middle of town?" he asked, coldly.
I adjusted my hat. "Just a disagreement. I'm leaving."
I turned away.
"Where do you think you're going?"
I glanced back. "Wherever I want."
He didn't stop me. Just watched me walk away.
As I moved down the street, my mind wandered.
The man had a gun.
If the fight had dragged on… would he have used it?
The warmth of the café was a welcome change. Only a waiter and one man sat inside, nursing a drink.
I took a seat, pulled open the newspaper, and began to read.
Tensions rise between the Kingdom of Alexandria and the Republic of Fedor.
"Order, sir?" the waiter asked.
"Just coffee."
As he left, a coin flicked over my shoulder, catching the light.
I turned—no one there. But now a man sat across from me, lazily flipping a coin in the air.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Not someone you know," he replied flatly.
I closed the paper. "Let me guess. You're here to talk war?"
"No. I'm here to ask if you're going to join it."
I smirked. "Maybe. Thinking about becoming a mercenary. At least then, there's something to bet on."
He laughed—rough and genuine. "I like your spirit. How about joining us?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Just like that? You don't even know my name."
He leaned back. "Call me Grim. That's all you need for now."
He had scars. Old ones. And the eyes of a man who'd seen far too much.
Definitely not an ordinary soldier.
"You the leader?" I asked.
He finished his drink, tossed a few coins on the table, and stood.
"Let's go. You in or not?"
I left my payment and followed him outside.
He raised a hand, signaling a carriage. As it pulled up, I crossed my arms.
"You really expect me to follow some stranger without question?"
"Yes." He opened the door. "Now get in."
Gods, I hope he's not the one in charge.
Still, I got in.
Snow fell heavier now. Through the window, I watched children throwing snowballs, laughing freely.
A rare kind of peace.
Grim coughed. I turned.
"I never got your name," he said.
"Hermann. Hermann Herzl."
He leaned forward and placed his hand gently on my face.
"What the hell are you—"
Then an eye opened in the center of his palm.
It stared straight into mine.