The seven of them arrived at the bus stop near the main highway just as the morning heat began to shimmer over the asphalt. Five other young men were already there, standing in a loose circle, their stiff collars and polished shoes marking them as fellow recruits.
"You got your papers, Tav?" Jack asked, checking his own breast pocket for the third time.
"Yeah, tucked right next to my heart," Tavros grunted, patting his jacket.
Kenlil patted his sub-space satchel. "Everything's here. I've even got a spare set of laces and a tin of boot polish. You never know with the military."
One of the other young men—a tall, broad-shouldered fellow with a mop of brown hair and an easy grin—separated himself from his group and approached Jack. "You boys headed for Juwark too?"
Jack smiled, extending a hand. "Yeah. End of the line for us."
"Small world," the young man said, shaking Jack's hand firmly. "James Bennet. These are my lot from the valley."
"Jack Sterling. This is Tavros Mulligan, and the one looking for trouble is Kenlil Luvillan."
The group quickly merged, the tension of the unknown melting into instant brotherhood. Introductions went around—Luke Matterloe, Philip Shallenbaum, and several others. In the shadow of the bus stop, they were no longer strangers from different blocks; they were the Luminschier Republic's newest shield.
"So, what's the plan?" James asked, leaning against a signpost. "Which branch are you boys gunning for?"
"Marines for me," Luke said, squaring his shoulders. "I want to see the world before I have to save it."
"Speaking of the sea," Kenlil interjected, his eyes gleaming, "I'm aiming for the Navy. Give me a year or two and you'll be calling me Admiral Luvillan. I want to be on one of those new dreadnoughts they just commissioned."
"Fellow sailor!" another young man chimed in, clapping Kenlil on the back. "We might be scrubbing the same deck in a few weeks then."
James turned his attention to Jack. "And you, Jack? You look like a man who likes his feet on the ground."
Jack shook his head, a small, daring smile playing on his lips. "Actually, I was thinking of the Airborne."
James's grin widened until it nearly split his face. He grabbed Jack's hand and shook it again, even more enthusiastically. "No shit? Me too! If we're lucky, we'll end up in the same division, the same regiment... hell, maybe even the same platoon. We can watch each other's backs while we're falling out of the sky."
"Airborne too," Philip added, stepping forward.
James looked Philip up and down, clearly surprised by the 'Angel Boy's' refined appearance. "I could've never guessed. I'd have pegged you for the Army Air Force—flying one of those fancy fighters."
Philip shook his head. "I prefer it close and personal. There's no poetry in a cockpit. But a parachute... that's a leap of faith."
James chuckled. "I like your style, kid." He then turned to the quietest of the group. "What about you, big guy?"
Tavros looked up. "The Army. Specifically, the Armoured. I want a few inches of steel between me and the Grendheichers."
James nodded knowingly. "Good choice. Not to be racial, but beastfolks have the best record in the Armoured Divisions. Something about the way you guys handle the heat and the noise inside a tank—it's like you're built for it."
Before they could continue, a low rumble vibrated through the road. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw a line of olive-drab trucks approaching.
"Hey guys, look," Luke said, pointing.
"What's the Army doing out here?" Oscar, a stocky boy from James's group, asked.
The lead truck hissed to a halt in front of them. The window rolled down, revealing a middle-aged man with sharp features, wearing a pair of dark aviator sunglasses. He chewed on an unlit cigar as he surveyed the group.
"Hey boys! Going my way?" the man barked.
"Where are you headed, sir?" Luke asked, stepping toward the cab.
"Juwark! Where else?" the man laughed. "Hop in! There's no bus coming anytime soon. The Lucroe Bridge is under repair—some saboteur or a structural failure, who knows? Either way, you'll be waiting here until the war is over. Come on, get in the back! It's a free ride to hell!"
The man's boisterous energy was infectious. Luke was the first to scramble over the tailgate, cheering as he pulled the others up. Jack looked at Tavros and Philip. "Well? Better than walking."
"If he's right, we're stuck here," Philip noted. "Hitching a ride with the military seems like an appropriate start to the day."
As the trucks pulled away, Jack sat at the back, watching his hometown shrink into the distance. A heavy silence fell over the boys as the reality of leaving home finally settled in.
Later, the landscape transformed. The rural fields gave way to the towering skyline of Juwark. The city was a testament to the power of Runes. Glowing blue etchings decorated every factory chimney, every streetlight, and even the hulls of the steam-powered vehicles that zipped through the streets.
Juwark was the birthplace of David Hunder, the man who had changed the world fifty years ago. Before Hunder, runes were static, ancient things. He had invented the "Modular Rune System"—a way to connect magic like blocks in a machine. He had turned mysticism into an industry.
As they passed a massive bronze statue of Hunder in the city square, Jack found himself staring. Can a man really become that immortal? he wondered.
"Thinking of being famous, Jack?" James's voice snapped him back.
Jack smiled. "I always dreamed about building a machine that didn't need magic. Just... pure mechanics."
Kenlil snorted. "Pffft... logically impossible. A world without magic would be a world of cavemen, Jack. No mana in the air means no civilization."
"I don't know," James mused. "A civilization that could build a world like ours without magic? They wouldn't be men. They'd be gods. A mind capable of thinking outside the framework of mana... that's a scary thought."
"It would be an apocalypse," Tavros added, his voice low. "If the magic ran out tomorrow, the factories stop, the lights go out, and we all starve in the dark. We're too dependent on it now."
The convoy finally pulled into a massive clearing beside the City Hall. It was a sea of humanity, elves, beastfolks and some dwarves. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of men and women were milling about. Some were fresh like them; others were ready after they enlisted and given 3 days leave to wind up their personal affairs and their bags packed and their faces excited and some were nervous.
The trucks came to a stop, and the group disembarked, feeling small in the face of the Republic's military might.
"Here we go, boys," Jack said, his heart hammering against his ribs. "This is our moment. Let's make 'em proud."
"You said it," Tavros grunted, adjusting his collar.
The middle-aged man from the lead truck stepped down, adjusting his sunglasses. He looked at the group of boys he'd picked up and gave them a sharp, knowing nod. "Good luck, boys. I'll be seeing you soon."
"Thank you for the ride, sir," Jack said politely.
The man's smile widened, revealing a row of perfectly white teeth. "I'm Major Stanley of the 506th, 98th Airborne. You boys are just in time for the show."
The group stood frozen for a second as the Major walked away. He hadn't just been a random driver; he was an officer of the very division Jack and Philip wanted to join.
Stanley didn't look back. He signaled a nearby runner. "Sergeant! Get this letter to Captain Javier. He's in the processing tent at the far end of the field."
The soldier took the letter and jogged off, leaving Jack and his friends to stare at the looming tents where their lives were about to change forever.