The city of Tortilla was loud even when it was quiet.
Merchants shouted about prices that never changed, children chased pigeons that never learned, and the central clock tower rang with the punctuality of someone desperate to prove they still mattered.
Trilla Tortilla sat at her balcony, chin resting in her palm, watching the chaos below. The sun painted everything gold even the dust looked expensive.
Her tutor's voice droned on from inside the room.
"…and the fiscal policies of the Second Imperial Age clearly indicate"
"..that I'm dying of boredom," Trilla murmured.
She leaned back in her chair, balancing on two legs, staring at the sky. Twelve years into the future, and still no cure for lectures.
The old woman cleared her throat behind her. "Lady Trilla, may I remind you that your mother expects "
"..me to learn something I'll forget by lunch. Yes, yes, I know."
The chair's back legs scraped dangerously close to the edge. For a second, Trilla hovered between balance and disaster and then, predictably...
Crash.
"ahhh!"
The tutor gasped. "My lady!"
Trilla popped up from the floor, hair tousled, grinning. "See? Physics. Lesson complete."
The tutor muttered something about divine punishment and left to fetch a broom.
Trilla sighed and brushed herself off, stepping onto the balcony rail. From here, she could see everything the bustling streets, the glint of soldiers' armor near the southern walls, and in the distance, the faint shimmer of the Imperial Barracks.
Her smile softened. Vector Breckenridge… Captain of the Imperial Army.
That ridiculous man she'd met under the strangest of circumstances him watering flowers with complete disregard for dignity, her caught in the world's least graceful nose-picking incident.
And yet… there was something about him. Something that lingered like a challenge she hadn't decided whether to accept.
She turned to the little bird that perched on her railing. "Do you think he's really as dangerous as they say?"
The bird tilted its head.
Trilla nodded seriously. "Me neither."
A knock at her door interrupted her musings.
"Lady Trilla," said a voice her attendant. "Your mother requests your presence at the Council Pavilion this evening. There's word of new deployments."
Trilla frowned. "Deployments? The city isn't at war."
"Not officially, my lady. But the generals are restless."
She sighed. "When are they not?"
After the attendant left, Trilla gazed again toward the horizon. From here, the barracks were just a dot of metal and shadow but something about it made her heartbeat quicken.
"Vector, you bastard," she whispered playfully to the wind. "If you start another mess, I swear I'll..."
A gust of wind blew her hair across her face.
"...fine," she said, laughing softly. "Maybe I'll just watch."
The clock tower chimed noon. Bells rang across the city.
Trilla stretched, her expression thoughtful now.
War was whispering again in Tortilla.
And though she didn't know it yet, her path and Vector's were already written to cross not by fate, but by the empire's own foolish sense of timing.