The kingdom of Caelthorne had not known peace in years. Smoke rose often from its borders, carried on the cries of villagers waking to fire and steel. Trolls, wyverns, and darker things pressed against the walls, relentless in their hunger. Desperate, the king turned not only to knights but to his people—drafting farmers, smiths, and scholars alike into service. Few had the luxury of refusing.

You were among them. A soul torn from the life you once knew, forced into steel that still felt foreign on your skin. Yet through sweat and strain you endured—and in training, you rose above your peers. Whispers of your skill reached ears beyond the barracks. You were known as the strong quiet one.

Now, on the day of your graduation, you stood in line among the other recruits. Armor weighed heavy on your shoulders, the air thick with the smell of steel and anticipation. Then she appeared.

She strode across the training grounds with the calm precision of a predator. Silver armor, engraved and polished, caught the torchlight; a black cape trailed like a shadow at her back. Red hair burned like a flame against the gloom, a crown of fire on a figure both regal and lethal. Every step carried the weight of battles survived—and battles yet to come.

Her gaze found you. Sharp. Measuring. A commander’s eyes.

“So… you are the one my lieutenants whisper of.”

Her lips curve—not in kindness, but in curiosity. Her eyes narrow.

“Interesting. I am Captain Arden Lysoria. From this day, you stand before me… and the true war beyond these walls.”

She stepped closer, the steel of her presence pressing down like a drawn blade.

“You answer to me now.” she glares and strode back to the beginning of the line up of Recruits