Mataram swiped an arm, and the wind clashed with the fireball heading towards him. He ducked as a sword swung through where his head was. It was a mistake, as a fireball struck his legs.

"Yield," Mataram said, tapping his legs where the fireball had struck. Thankfully, his trousers were not on fire.

"You did well," Lycan said, extending an arm.

Mataram clasped the offered hand, and Lycan pulled him up.

"Not good enough," Mataram spat. "Have not even beaten you once."

Lycan shrugged. "I'm top of the cohort."

They were on the training grounds, and the noise of steel clashing and blasting elements filled the air around them.

"There's lots of people here these days," Mataram said.

"We're getting close to graduation. Everyone's fighting for the top spot," Lycan said.

"Such a highborn thing to say," Mataram laughed.

Lycan raised an eyebrow. "Is this one of your 'lowborn' jokes I have no idea about?" He asked, clearly confused.

Mataram waved his hand. "Most lowborns are training out of fear. You know the war going on and everything."

Lycan looked at him questioningly. "The war is affecting all of us," he said.

"Ugh," Mataram sighed. "Most of us don't have the training you have, Lycan." He gestured to the large number of lowborns around. "Most of us only received training when we joined the academy."

Lycan looked around the training yard. "You're right."

Mataram looked at his friend's concerned look. "What is it?"

"You afraid?" Lycan asked. "Of going to war."

Matarm audibly exhaled. "No," he said. "I know I should be. But for some reason, I'm not."

Lycan lifted his arm, showing it to Mataram. His arm was shaking uncontrollably. "I'm terrified," he admitted.

Mataram's eyes widened. He had always thought Lycan, of all people, would not have been afraid. Wanting to lighten the mood, Mataram tried to change perspective.

"Imagine this," Mataram said, placing a hand on Lycan's shoulder and waving an imaginary scene with his other hand. "You are battling those invaders and saving our world from those demons," Mataram wiggled his eyebrows. "Next to the Golden Garuda, who will be your's truly."

Lycan chuckled. "Are you sure you're not talking about yourself? Garuda is known to fly."

"Oi," Mataram said, his face scrunched in an exaggerated offended look. "That's a low blow, and you know it."

The two laughed.

Their laughter was halted as they heard Loran yell at the other end of the training grounds. She had taken up the training of most of the lowborns her brother had been helping before he left. She must have noticed them looking at her because she waved. There was no smile, though.

Lycan and Mataram waved back.

"You think we'll ever be friends again?" Mataram asked.

"Probably not," Lycan answered. "It has not been the same since then."

"Yeah," Mataram agreed. "Ever since then."

Loran was still amicable towards them, but the distance between them was apparent.

"I think she hates me," Mataram said.

"I doubt it," Lycan said. "She thanked us for saving Adriani's life."

"Not that," Mataram said. "The lowborns basically hailed me as a hero for ousting a highborn."

"She knows it wasn't you who started it," Lycan said.

"Still stings," Mataram replied.

After a moment, Mataram asked, "Do you think they'll deploy us together?"

"You and me," Lycan said. "Probably. But Loran will more likely be sent to weapons development. She's the last heir of the Anishi."

"She'll hate that."

"I'll bet you she will."

-------------------

Mataram sat on his bed. He could not sleep. Last night was the last time he would sleep on that bed because they were graduating today. Not long after, he would be deployed. His hands were shaking, not in fear he had long since realised. He was shaking in excitement, which he was concerned with.

"Screw this," he stood up off his bed and headed to the washroom to wash his face. It turns out that he was not the only one unable to sleep that night. There were many recruits in the lounge and washroom. He heard a few recruits wanting to become officers and scoffed internally at them. Mataram wanted to see the battle. He was going to shatter that image of lowborns being lesser.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

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Lycan stood tall in the courtyard. He wore his ceremonial clothes, and as the top of the cohort, he stood before the rest of the recruits.

"Top of this year's recruits. I call upon Lycan Torres," Dean Sanders announced to the crowd.

There were a few applauses and cheers. Lycan reckoned the loudest cheer was from Mataram in the middle of the line.

Standing on stage to receive his medal, he saw his parents sitting in the crowd. For the first time since he could remember, he thought he saw them filled with pride. Their expression was stern, but he recognised the shift in their eyes as he walked onto the stage.

There were only a few people in the crowd compared to the number of recruits graduating. Lycan reckoned that most parents of the lowborns were unable to travel. He received his scroll, listing where he would be deployed. Once he was seated, he opened the parchment. He almost set it ablaze.

-------------

Once the ceremony was over, Lycan made his way to his parents. He ignored the congratulations other recruits and highborns were giving him.

"What did you do?" Lycan hissed as he got close.

"Son," His father greeted him, ignoring his words. "We are very proud to see you at the top of your cohort," he said just loud enough for the other highborn house heads to hear.

Lycan wanted to slap the scroll onto his father's chest, but his mother caught his wrist and plucked the scroll casually as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

Lycan's mother unscrolled the paper. "It would be helpful if you could explain to us normally," she said as she read the paper. "Control yourself."

"I know you two did something, and if this is your way of trying to shield me. Don't." Lycan said.

As his mother reached the end of the parchment, she snorted. "You'll be fine."

Lycan wanted to say more, but his mother's eyes bored into him.

"You will be fine," she repeated, returning the parchment to him. "I'll see you at dinner. It might be the last time we see each other for a long while."

—————————

Mataram read his parchment. He knew he would not be sent to the Air Force because he could not fly, and he wondered where they would send him. He read the parchment.

Gather at the docks tonight at 21.00. You will be deployed to Badai.

Mataram's hands shook. This was it. He is finally having a chance to change the status quo.

—————————

After his brief meeting with his parents, Lycan approached Mataram. He found Mataram already conversing with Lorena, a rare sight.

"Hi," Lycan greeted the two.

They both greeted him.

"Where'd you getting sent to?" Mataram asked, and Lycan heard the excitement in his voice.

"Sunda," Lycan answered. He tried to hide his disappointment but realised he failed as Lorena winced.

"I thought I got the short end of the stick," Lorena said.

"Where'd you getting sent to?" Lycan asked curiously.

"Toba," she answered.

"Not bad," Lycan said. "Not precisely battle but close enough to the sea."

"Yeah, but I'm an augmenter. We're not exactly made for the navy," Lorena explained.

Mataram looked between them, clearly not knowing what they were talking about. "What's wrong with Toba?" And what's wrong with Sunda?"

"Sunda is HQ," Lycan sighed. "I'm basically going to be an officer."

Mataram felt a brief pang of jealousy. "Aren't officers responsible for strategies? Isn't that a good thing?"

"Not for a Toress," Lycan sighed. "Officers don't see battle."

Mataram winced. "You're parents?" He asked.

"They did not seem to mind just now. I thought they were involved in this, but it seems they weren't. I bet they're saving their disappointment for tonight's dinner rather than berating me in front of the other highborns."

“And Toba?” Mataram asked Lorena.

"Our main navy base is there," Lorena answered, thinking it would be enough to explain her disappointment.

Mataram raised an eyebrow, clearly not understanding.

"It means they probably want me there for weapons development. I'm an augmenter. I'm not going to be sent there to do sea battles," Lorena explained clearly, getting increasingly annoyed by the idea every second. "This is Adriani's thing."

She frowned as she accidentally mentioned her brother's name. "It is what he was good at," she muttered.

The mood soured.

"Still no news?" Mataram asked softly.

"No," Lorena said and quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, Mataram, you were about to tell me where you would be deployed."

"Ah yes," Mataram said, unrolling his scroll and showing it to his friends. "I'm getting sent to Badai."

Lorena and Lycan winced. Mataram saw Lycan's expression turning to outrage.

"Jealous?" Mataram teased.

But Lycan was not in the mood for joking, and his eyes scrolled through the letters in Mataram's parchment. "This is insane," Lycan said furiously out of worry for his friend, turning the parchment over so Lorena could read it. Lorena paled.

"Why is it insane?" Mataram asked.

"That jungle is called the Meat Grinder," Lycan answered angrily. "Sending a recruit there is the same as sending you to your death."

Mataram turned to see Lorena, and judging by her expression, she seemed to agree.

"It's bad," Lorena uttered.

Mataram was not afraid; however, he oddly looked forward to it.

"Maybe they think I'll be able to handle it," Mataram shrugged boastfully.

"They're not sending you there because of your skills. They're sending you there because you're small. They're making you a rat," Lycan spat, clenching his fists.

"What do you mean?" Mataram asked the two, clearly unaware of the danger Lycan was talking about.

"The jungle tribes there are the suppliers of the best earth elementalists the Western Alliance possess," Lorena tried to explain more clearly. “They have a network of tunnels that are who knows how long and have filled them with hideous traps. And only smaller people can enter the small tunnels to flush them out," she finished with a deep breath, clearly frustrated.

Lycan joined in. "Might as well forget about your sword training because you'll be using knives."

Mataram looked up to the two highborns as he understood their concerns. He barely stood slightly higher than Lorena's shoulder, and Lycan was taller.

"I appreciate the concern, but-"

Lycan cut in, grabbing Mataram by the shoulders. "Are you even listening? Rats have the highest mortality rate of any soldier. And you'll definitely be a rat. There will be no ground battle for you except underneath."

"It's bad, Mataram. It's horrible." Lorena added.

Their concern touched Mataram, but he felt it was not needed.

"Guys, please. I'll be fine," Mataram said.

"Just stay alive, damn you. I will be an officer and find a way to get you out of there," Lycan cursed.

Mataram scowled. "Don't," he said with an intensity that surprised both Lorena and Lycan. "I can handle it."

Lycan wanted to protest but reluctantly sighed. "Fine," he finally said. "But do remember you still have a sister."

Mataram, surprised by the mention of his sister, narrowed his eyes. "That was low and unappreciated."

"And I'll do it again if it helps to keep you alive," Lycan argued.

"Mataram, please listen to us. This is serious. Most rats never return home," Lorena pleaded.

"I get it," Mataram said. "I hear you. Both of you. But I don't have the same resources you both have. If I am going to make a name for myself. Then, this would be a great place to start."

"Mataram-," Lycan wanted to warn again.

"Enough," Mataram said and took a deep breath. "I don't want our final meeting to be an argument. Could we please change to other topics?"

The two highborns, feeling resigned, nodded.

At the end of their chat, Lycan watched as Mataram left the courtyard for the final time. Mataram was leaving tonight, which was one of the earlier schedules. Lycan only had to report back to the academy the following day for his transport to Sunda, while Lorena was a few hours after his.

"You're going to try and get him out of there, aren't you?" Lorena asked Lycan.

Lycan watched his friend walk further away before turning a corner and disappearing.

"I have to."

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The Monarch of Akar walked into her throne room, escorted by two Bhayangkaras. She wore her royal mantel, the thick fabric keeping her cold body warm. The throne room was large and decorated with gold statues and ornaments of their god, Garuda. The gold glowed as the sunlight reflected from the large windows.

A large circular table was in the centre, where the other eight of Akar's bhayangkara were seated. They all stood up and bowed as the large stone door opened, and she entered. She did not possess a large stature; neither was she tall. And she never got used to the deference these elite soldiers gave her.

"You're going to battle?" one of the Bhayangkara asked as he noticed her cropped hair.

Ragnar. She was sure that was the name of the Bhayangkara that had just asked. She tried to remember all their names, but it was getting increasingly difficult as the years went by.

"Yes," she replied. "The coming of the Golden Garuda is close. Which could only mean that they are coming."

The Bhayangkaras in the room tensed. The Monarch saw one of them had clasped their hands tightly, attempting to stop them from shaking.

"How may we serve?" one of the Bhayangkara, Rahayu, the Monarch remembered her name, asked.

"Have the chosens have been placed as planned?" The Monarch asked.

"Yes, Your Highness. We have sent them where you ordered," Gajah, the current commander of the Bhayangkara, answered. Gajah hesitated slightly.

"What is it?" The Monarch asked. "You all know I appreciate your views."

Gajah lowered his head slightly. "It's the lowborn, Mataram Rakur. Are we not sending him to certain death? Wouldn't it be better for him to be under one of us, like the others?"

"I thought about it," The Monarch answered. She picked up one of the papers on the table detailing Mataram's profile and began to skim through it. She handed it to Gajah once she was finished. "He is a weak air elementalist who has bottled himself using old methods. He can't fly. And neither does he excel in any subjects."

Gajah closed his eyes, so she pushed on. "What he does have, however, is a diminutive stature and the old way of wind elementalist."

"Isn't that why he should learn from us? So that we can help him master his sorcery?" Gajah asked, almost pleading.

The Monarch sighed and spoke softly. "I understand that you see yourself in the boy. But the boy needs to grow fast. Our situation is dire, and as of now, the other two bring more value to us than sending them to the front. Mataram will die or grow."

Gajah nodded. "I understand, Your Highness."

"Is that all?" the Monarch asked. She paused and waited for everyone to nod. "Then, let us bring our attention to the matter at hand. The invaders could come into our world any moment now, and our world remains divided. Only united do we stand a chance. I will increase our unification efforts and join the front lines from now on."

The Monarch ordered a servant to bring a large map of the Akar Empire and Western Alliance. The map covered the entire table. "Let us plan.”