The chill of the coming winter wrapped the city in a blanket of soft snowflakes, their descent slow and delicate, painting the world outside in a quiet white. Inside the Cade household, warmth radiated from the hearth. The family gathered around the modest dinner table, laughing softly as they passed bowls of stew and slices of bread.
Damian sat quietly, watching as his mother, Amara, spooned mashed vegetables into his baby brother's mouth. His brother, Julian, giggled with each bite, his small hands flailing in excitement. Beside Damian, his father, Allistair Cade, the once-tired lines on his face softened under the warmth of home, chuckled as Ewan made a mess.
"The boy's got an appetite like a beast," Allistair said, wiping his son's chin.
"He'll need it with the winters we have here," Liana replied, her dark brown hair framing her face as she smiled at the infant.
Damian glancing out the window at the growing layers of snow. It was cold, but there was something calming about the snow as it covered the cobbled streets and buildings of the city. The faint glow of lanterns cast a dim light across the streets, the city beginning to quiet as night crept in.
As the casual conversation continued, Allistair suddenly grew more serious. "Damian," he said, turning his attention toward his son. "I've been hearing some things from my superiors lately."
Damian raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
"The empire," Allistair started, leaning back in his chair, "they're gearing up for something. They're planning to start mass training for the younger generations. There's talk of a possible war with Valkor."
"War?" Damian said, trying to keep his voice steady.
"It's just rumors for now," Allistair said quickly, "but it's coming from high up. The emperor might be looking to prepare everyone for what's ahead."
Liana frowned slightly, her hand stilling on the spoon as she glanced at her husband. "You think it's serious?"
Allistair nodded grimly. "Serious enough that all 14-year-olds will be required to attend the military academy. It's a decree from the emperor himself. Even the nobles' children aren't exempt."
Damian's heart sank. "Military academy?" he repeated, not hiding the concern in his voice.
"Yes," Allistair said, "and it's much harder to become a scholar these days, with the empire focusing more on martial prowess. Swordsmanship, aura, tactics—that's what they'll be pushing for."
Damian's mind flashed to the girl he met at the library. Her hands that seem to go through rigorous training.
"Dad I'd like to ask something what is the Duke like?" Damian asked, curiosity bubbling to the surface. "Have you ever met him?"
Allistair shook his head. "I'm just a lowly guard," he said with a chuckle. "I've never been in the same room as him. But from what I've heard, Duke Verdell is one of the most powerful aura practitioners in the empire. Rank 7, they say. "
Damian's thoughts swirled as his father continued. Duke Verdell, a Rank 7 aura user—one of the strongest men on the continent. And now, this training, this war—it all seemed too close for comfort. The idea of fighting, of being thrown into the military, didn't sit well with him.
"I don't want to be a soldier," Damian blurted out. "I just want to be a scholar. Study history, magic, something useful."
Allistair's brow furrowed slightly. "Being a scholar is noble, but it's harder than you think. You'd need to stand out in a different way, work twice as hard. Everyone's attention is on preparing for war now."
The weight of the conversation settled in the room. The crackle of the fireplace was the only sound for a moment, the warmth it provided feeling distant to Damian.
He stared down at his hands, fingers curling slightly.
'I'm not even a main character, he thought bitterly. Why would I do something as grueling as military training? I just want to sit back, be a scholar, and live a peaceful life.'
Liana must have sensed her son's unease because she reached across the table and placed a comforting hand on his. "Damian, you don't have to decide everything now. But if you want to pursue other paths, you can still study. And…" She hesitated slightly before adding, "There's also magic."
Damian's head snapped up. "Magic?"
Amara smiled softly. "I only know basic spells, but there are academies that teach magic, even for commoners. It's just that… well, mastering magic takes years, and not everyone has the aptitude for it. But if want you can learn it if you don't want to learn aura."
"Only basic spells, huh?" Damian echoed, trying to push away his growing frustration. The casual life he'd imagined for himself was slipping out of reach. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that there were no easy paths for him.
Later that night, after the dinner plates were cleared and the house quieted, Damian sat by his window, staring out at the snow-covered streets. The faint glow of the moon reflected off the white blanket of snow, casting a soft light into his room.
His father's words replayed in his mind. Military academy, mass training, war. Damian didn't want any part of it. He wanted a peaceful life, free from conflict, just like he'd had in his previous world.
But this wasn't his old world. Here, things were different, and it seemed like everyone was being pulled into the orbit of war, whether they wanted to be or not.
"What am I supposed to do?" he muttered to himself.
He could study magic, but his mother only knew the basics, and becoming proficient in it seemed like a long shot and you have to be born with talent. Being proficient in magic is even harder than having aura. He wasn't sure he had the patience to go through years of training just to avoid becoming a soldier.
But what about aura? The thought crossed his mind. His father had mentioned swordsmanship and aura training. Could he use aura, like the Duke? If he could become strong enough, maybe he wouldn't be forced into a life of battle. Maybe, just maybe, he could carve his own path.
But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Damian shook his head. No. That's not for me. I just want peace, nothing more.
He sighed deeply, the cold from the window starting to seep through. His thoughts were a jumbled mess.
I'll figure something out, he thought as he climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up around him.
The next day, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the city even further. Damian spent most of the morning reading, trying to distract himself from the thoughts swirling in his head. His mother had gone out to buy some supplies, and his father was busy with his duties as a guard.
After finishing his reading, Damian wandered to the window, watching the snowflakes drift lazily to the ground. His thoughts, however, were far from peaceful. The looming prospect of military training weighed heavily on him.
I just want to be a scholar, he thought for what felt like the hundredth time.
As the day wore on, Damian couldn't help but feel like the peaceful life he'd envisioned was slipping away, one snowflake at a time.