Soaring Bird City. The Merchant District.

In a bustling avenue thick with the scent of caramelized sugar and roasted spices, Pallas was busy demolishing a massive flatbread wrap stuffed with dripping, fire-roasted meat. Sauce smeared his chin as he chewed with the enthusiasm of a starving wolf.

Mid-bite, Pallas froze. A thought seemed to strike him like a physical blow.

He hastily wiped the grease from his face with the back of his hand, swallowed the massive bolus of food, and fumbled with the spatial pouch at his waist. He produced a scroll made of heavy, dark parchment and thrust it toward Kronos.

"Second Brother, Mom told me to give this to you before we left!" Pallas said, looking sheepish. "I was so excited to see you, I almost completely forgot."

Kronos took the scroll, his curiosity piqued. He handed the packages Elara had bought to a trailing attendant and broke the wax seal right there in the middle of the street.

It was a military mandate.

A Conscription Order from the Stoneheart Horde.

And it was addressed specifically to him.

To His Highness, Prince Kronos:

The Civil War in the North is imminent. The northern territories of the Stoneheart Horde face a gathering threat.

In accordance with the strategic defense of the Horde, Blackstone City, on behalf of His Majesty the Giant King, hereby issues this formal Call to Arms.

We trust that the enlistment of the Prince will inject new vigor into our ranks and inspire the people to take up arms. You are ordered to prepare immediately. Within fifteen days, you must report to the military barracks at Stoneheart City as detailed in this mandate.

We await your response and your contribution to the glory of the Stoneheart Horde.

Salute.

— The High Command, Stoneheart Horde.

It was a draft notice, but phrased as a royal invitation.

Kronos stared at the parchment, his mind going blank.

This was something he had never dared to imagine.

He was a Giant Prince of the Stoneheart Horde. He had a destiny tied to that bloodline.

It was a fate that neither the Human Kingdom nor Princess Ava could prevent.

"Oh, it's just a draft notice," Pallas said around another mouthful of meat. "I thought it was something cool."

While Kronos had been reading, Elara and Pallas—ever the nosy siblings—had leaned in to peek.

To Pallas, this was mundane. He and Elara had been sent out to gain experience, hadn't they? In his simple, straightforward worldview, Kronos was part of the Stoneheart Horde. It was only natural that he'd be called up when the war horns blew.

Dismissing it, Pallas turned back to the important business of hunting for dessert.

Elara, however, was different. A sharp, intelligent light flickered in her eyes as she watched Kronos.

She understood the subtext.

From the moment they were born, Kronos and Pallas had walked different paths. Within the Stoneheart Horde, when people spoke of the "Giant Prince," they meant Pallas. Even the younglings of the vassal tribes only recognized Pallas.

Kronos, despite sharing their father's blood, had been raised outside the Horde. There was an invisible, unbreakable wall between him and the Horde.

Because of that wall, Kronos had no access to the Horde's resources. Techniques, artifacts, magical flora, war pets... Kronos had none of it.

When they were children, it didn't matter. But as they approached adulthood, the gap would become a chasm. Kronos would realize it eventually. If left unchecked, that realization could turn into bitterness, paranoia, and inferiority.

No one wanted that.

This draft order was the solution.

War was the crucible that would temper Kronos. He needed battle experience; he needed to face death to harden his spirit.

But more importantly, this was the Stoneheart Horde opening a door.

By fighting as a soldier and a Bloodline Warrior, Kronos could serve the Horde. And by serving, he could earn Merit. With Merit, he could walk into the Horde's Treasury and exchange his glory for anything he desired.

It was a path to legitimacy. Without this official status, the Horde couldn't justify pouring resources into an outsider. With it, he was one of them.

Pallas saw a piece of paper. Elara saw a lifeline.

"You'd better do your best," Elara said, leaping from Pallas's shoulder onto Kronos's. She reached out a small hand and patted his head, assuming the role of the stern older sister.

"Don't disappoint Daddy. And don't disappoint Mom." She paused, her voice softening. "And don't disappoint your mother, either."

"We're rooting for you," she added, grinning. "Just remember, you're a Giant Prince of the Stoneheart Horde. Don't go wetting your pants the first time you see an enemy charge!"

It was a tease, but it was her way of lighting a fire under him.

Elara hadn't cared much for Kronos in the beginning. But over time, after seeing his constant attempts to connect and the subtle, lingering loneliness in his eyes, she had softened. She didn't hate him anymore. She actually felt a bit protective.

"I won't, Big Sis," Kronos said, snapping back to reality. He nodded heavily, a fire kindling in his chest. "I'll give it everything I have."

"That's the spirit!" Pallas shouted, catching the vibe. "We'll crush them together! In this Civil War, I'm going to rack up the most kills. I'm going straight to the deepest part of the Treasury and buying the best gear they have!"

Mentioning the Treasury got Pallas fired up. Even with their status, neither Pallas nor Elara had free reign in the Horde's Vault. They had heard legends of the mountains of treasure stored there—artifacts from other worlds, ancient weapons. They had only seen glimpses of such things when the Elders or High Commanders gifted them trinkets.

"With your clumsy skills? You'll be lucky if you don't trip over your own feet," Elara scoffed, hopping back onto Pallas's shoulder and yanking his ear.

"Ow! Hey!"

The mood lightened instantly. Kronos suppressed his surging emotions and spent the rest of the day guiding his siblings through the city, though his mind was already drifting toward the north.

Night. The Palace.

After a feast prepared personally by Princess Ava, Elara and Pallas, stuffed to the gills and exhausted from the day's excitement, retired early.

The palace grew quiet.

Just as Ava was preparing to retire, a knock came at her door.

Kronos entered her study. He walked straight to her desk and placed the parchment on the polished wood surface.

"Mother," Kronos said, his voice steady. "I have decided to enlist."

He looked up, meeting her gaze with a firmness she hadn't seen before. He had made up his mind. Even if she forbade it, he would sneak out and go.

Ava didn't speak immediately.

She picked up the Conscription Order, reading every word, analyzing every seal.

To Kronos and Elara, this paper represented opportunity and acceptance.

To Ava, it looked like a death warrant.

The Civil War was a meat grinder. If there were factions within the Stoneheart Horde that harbored ill will toward her son—or toward her—this battlefield would be the perfect place to make an "accident" happen.

Ava sat in silence, the parchment heavy in her hands. The room was suffocatingly quiet. She looked at her son, seeing the man he was becoming, and struggled to find the words to respond.

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