HUNTER

i. to prepare

year: 12030
200 years after the world burn.

whenever the princess turns 20, she will join the military to fight for her kingdom.

the iusto citizens, better known in your year as "normal" or "regular" citizens, including boys, girls, and genderqueer, usually join at 12. as does a prince.

the princess is to be trained well before she becomes a general in war, and maybe even a wanted criminal in other countries. the iusto citizens rely on royalty to bring supplies. bought, created, copied, stolen, or smuggled.

so at age 15, a princess assigns herself an iusto boy of around the age 15 to train her.

this boy will have be well paid by the king. so, naturally, when a princess turns 15, every iusto boy of around the age 15 in the kingdom is gathered to train the princess.

-----

I am finally 15.

I step outside, onto my balcony, to reveal the biggest crowd I'll ever see, in the Times Square. There is a stage, too, completely empty, where my dads, the kings, would stand. I would give them options of which iusto boys would be able to train me best in the range of 5 years.

My parents would then choose the most beneficial out of 5 boys. I would then be stuck with that boy for 5 years.

I look over the huge crowd in the distance in my pastel lilac nightgown that went down to my ankles. I cringe at what would await me. I hate boys.

I run inside to my room and quickly change into tall, stretchy blue pants, designed for workout. And an oversized, wrinkly pink T-shirt. This shirt goes down to my knees. I tuck it in a small bit, and it looks puffy. I look in the mirror. It looks cool. And cute.

I go downstairs. "How long does it take you to change?" Dad asks. "Chillax, bro, I had to find an actually good outfit."

He shrugs, taking a dozen cream-cheese bagels from the chef. "Girl, you used to change by grabbing the first thing you saw, like me. Took less than a minute. Why can't you do that again?"

"I'll repeat myself: I have to find an actual good outfit. I changed my dress-up routine after seeing how bad you looked with it."

"Ooooh!" Paps walks in. "Imma get that, sweetie."
He reaches to grab one of Dad's bagels. Dad slaps Pap's arm playfully, before giving Paps a bagel and a kiss on the cheek.

"Aww! Too bad your daughter doesn't get any affection." I grab three bagels. "Your poor daughter."

"You can have a pat on the head, Dell." He pats my head.

An hour later the bagels, a 'pre-breakfast snack', the three of us sit down at the fancy table.

Awaiting us is a big all-you-can-eat breakfast. Waffles, scrambled eggs, pancakes, ham, bread, butter. "Yay!" I run over to make nutella-spread waffles, with syrup and strawberries. Dad pats my back, saying, "Darling, you'll be trained. You can't eat too much. The iustos are already waiting."

Paps rolls his eyes, "My man, let her eat. Breakfast is supposed to be big, you say. Can't spar on empty stomach." His French accent made Dad smile. "Fine." Dad says. "This, a sandwich, and one scoop of ice cream. That's it."

Paps nods. "Seems fair."
"'Kay," I agree.

We eat in silence. At some point, Paps plays the sound of crickets to make our breakfast more awkward. He and I giggle as Dad raises his eyebrows, and after about a minute, he chuckles and says "You may now stop, my gorgeous."