𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒 𝙊𝙁 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀

𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲

Maven

I doze off a little during the trip. Father moves to the front of the craft at some point with the pilot and I'm left alone with Cal. The clouds move peacefully through the sky, blurring out Norta, and I feel more lost than ever.

"Are you nervous, Mavey?"

I make sure my mask of calmness doesn't slip. "Can't say I'm excited."

"It's alright. I was nervous when I first came to the front. It's very...," Cal looks for the right word, "impressive."

War rampaged land. Explosives and guns firing from both sides of the border. People shouting out orders, begging for mercy. Sounds like every child's dream, I think sourly. 'Impressive' is hardly the word to describe it.

"It's going to be very different from home I'm sure."

"It's going to be fine. You're a prince, Mavey. You're trained for this."

Except he doesn't know I'm here precisely because I'm not well trained, according to Father.

"Of course," I lie.

"We will always meet for meals and train together." He tries to soften the blow for me as if I were still a small child. It makes little difference when I know what awaits me at the front. Days in the battlefield or training. No rest. Tasteless food probably. And my brother away with his own duties as heir of Norta. No matter what he promises, even if we train and fight together, I won't be seeing him much after we arrive. It doesn't really bother me. There are other things that occupy my mind. Being alone is the least of them.

Some hours later the outskirts of the military camp come to view as the craft begins to lose altitude. I shift in my seat as I take it all in. For once, Mother's whispers are not here to make me company, though I can hear echoes of what they would say. Do not fail. They're not as chilling as they usually are and I feel a strange sense of glee.

Father returns with his military uniform, looking like the King he is. It makes me slightly resentful because I know I could never look like him. Even though I'm his son, we're very different. People say I look more like Elara. I'm not sure that's a comfort either.

"We'll be arriving shortly, boys," he says and Cal sits upright. I focus on not letting my mask slip.

As the craft lands on the camp I look over my military uniform for the tenth time to confirm it's impecable. My brother quirks a smile as he glances at me. I try to tell him with my eyes that I'm not nervous, though I'm not sure who really needs convincing.

"Welcome, Your Majesties," a loud voice receives us as the ramp falls open, revealing a broad man in a handsome uniform. His chest is full of medals and insignias, almost as much as Father's. I wonder faintly if that's because he's not allowed to have more than the King.

"Greetings, General Samos," Father answers. Cal greets him as well once we exit the craft and I bow politely.

"I hope your travels were smooth," the General adds before setting a brisk pace through the camp. We follow with the Sentinels flanking our procession. I try not to gape as I take it all in.

The air smells mildly like burnt wood. There are barracks to our left and larger buildings to our right, where I assume weapons and armoury are stored. After a few minutes, Cal notices my wide eyes and begins explaining the camp to me.

"Those are storage buildings. All the ammunition, bombs, and weapons are there. That is where the cartography team is, and there's the cafeteria."

He turns to the left. "And those are the barracks and tents we stay in."

"All of those?" I ask. It looks like a lot for the few Silvers that actually come here.

"This section is where we'll stay. The rest is for the... others." He means Reds, but my good brother doesn't like saying it. He's soft about that.

"And wait until you see the training field. It's almost as big as the one at home," he says excitedly.

Can't wait, I think sarcastically.

"Maven," Father calls and I stand to attention. "This is General Lerolan. You will be training with him."

Lerolan. The High House of my grandmother. My teeth clench. She has never been fond of me.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," the General says to me. He doesn't bow.

The man is tall and wears his colours proudly on his clothes. Dark hair covers his head elegantly and his eyes are hardened by his time at war. Next to Samos I have a hard time deciding who is scarier.

"The pleasure is all mine," I say.

"The Sentinels will show you to your tent." Father orders a pair from our group.

"Don't let the boy get too used to them," Lerolan tells him.

"Of course not. He knows why he's here."

My anger rises at his words. He's telling these people I'm a spoiled brat in need of correction. I'm the small prince that is too used to the comfort and safety brought by the Sentinels. It's not that I'm not used to him underestimating me, but doing it in front of other people is entirely different. It takes everything in me to keep my mask in place. Mother's whispers scream in my head.

Do not fail.

"Cal," the King beckons. "Let's go."

The four of them move forward while I'm taken in the opposite direction. I can't ignore the stares of all the soldiers and workers here. I'd told my brother I expected things to be different at the front, but now I see they're not so far from home. No matter where, I'm still the shadow of the flame.