"I'm saying you need to be eighteen years of age to join the Marines, Tavros," Kenlil said, adjusting his spectacles. The elf's long, pointed ears twitched as he dodged a puddle on the soot-stained sidewalk.
"Since when did the military care about age, Ken?" Tavros snorted. The beastfolk was a massive presence beside them, his jackal-like features framed by a coat of sand-colored fur. "I've been the right age ever since I could walk and talk. Look at you—you're twenty-four, yet you still look like you're fifteen."
Kenlil let out a mock gasp, wrapping an arm around the shoulder of the man walking between them. "Hey, you can't blame me for my race. I'm an elf. But don't let your eyes deceive you—Jack Sterling here is only seventeen, yet he looks older than both of us combined."
Jack Sterling offered a faint, lopsided smile, pulling his collar up against the damp chill of the Luminschier evening. "Hey, I might just convince the recruiters I'm already past eighteen. They aren't exactly checking birth certificates for humans these days. Not with the Grendheich pushing the front lines."
The trio walked through the bustling streets of the capital. To any passerby, they were just three friends nearing a crossroads. To Jack, however, the world always felt slightly... off. He saw the same cobblestones and steam-carriages as everyone else, but in the back of his mind, he had flashes of things that didn't exist. Tall glass spires, silent carriages that moved without horses or mana-shale, and the sound of thunder that didn't come from the sky.
"Say, which branch do you guys want to join?" Jack asked, trying to shake the phantom memories.
Tavros scratched his chin. "I don't know. Everyone on this block says the Army Air Corps has it easier."
"Pfft," Kenlil countered. "Only if you're an elf and great at working with those runes. Those zeppelins are slow, and those gray bastards in the Grendheich Empire get flak-happy whenever their guns are pointed at us. It's a long way down when the gas bag ignites."
Tavros smirked. "You been to the military, Ken?"
"No, but my uncle was. He tells me stories."
"Uncle. Yeah, right," Tavros laughed.
"Hey, it's true!"
Jack cut in, his voice grounding them. "From what I've heard, most beastfolk are being funneled into the Tank Corps or the Rangers. They want your strength for the heavy lifting."
Tavros's eyes lit up at the mention of armor. "Yeah? If that's true, then I'll drive one of those Starcrushers. Even if their cannons aren't as powerful as the Vanguard IVs those Grendheich bastards use, they're fast. A 75mm cannon that can fire straight at thirty kilometers per hour with those new gyrostabilizers? Sign me up."
"You have us to thank for that," Kenlil said proudly. "That's elven engineering for you."
"I'd thank the inventor himself before I thank you, Ken," Tavros teased.
"Hey! I'm still an elf, you know!"
Jack shook his head, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. He turned to the elf. "What about you, Ken? Where are you going to sign up?"
Kenlil hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll try the Navy. The Republic Navy just whipped up a new ship that can sling those P-5 Falcons."
"The aircraft carriers?" Jack asked instinctively.
Kenlil stopped, blinking in confusion. "Carriers? No... they call them Liberty-class Dreadnoughts. Where the hell did you come up with a name like 'carrier' anyway?"
Jack waved it off, his heart skipping a beat. There it was again—the "wrong" words.
"Nowhere. Just a word that popped into my head."
"What about you, Jack?" Tavros asked, his expression turning serious. "Which branch for the fearless human?"
Jack thought of the images that haunted his sleep—men falling through a dark sky, silk canopies blooming like white flowers against the moon. It was a visceral pull, a feeling that he belonged in the air, but not inside a metal hull.
"I'm joining the Airborne," Jack said.
Kenlil stopped dead. "What? Jack, you know the Airborne is ten times more dangerous than normal infantry. You get dropped behind enemy lines from those slow-ass zeppelins. You're bound to get shot down before you can even jump."
"Might as well try," Jack replied simply. "Better to drop in on them than wait for them to come to us."
Tavros laughed, slapping Jack on the back with a force that would have knocked a lesser man over. "Hahaha! That's Jack Sterling for you. A human who knows no fear."
"Sometimes," Kenlil muttered, looking at Jack with a mix of awe and worry, "I think you've got balls of orichalcum. And I mean that literally."
Jack shook his head. "Alright guys, I'm heading home. Big day tomorrow."
"See you at the recruitment center in the morning," Tavros shouted, waving a massive hand as he and Kenlil continued down the block toward the pubs.
Jack watched them go, his smile fading. He turned and walked toward his apartment building, a five-story brick structure that felt like a relic of a time he couldn't quite place.
The streets were a chaotic symphony of a world caught between eras—cars rattled down the cobblestones, black smoke belching from exhaust pipes, while humans, elves, and beastfolk hurried past one another.
He entered the building, the dim hallway light flickering. He didn't know why he was enlisting, not really. He told himself it was for his friends. He told himself it was for the Republic.