Prime Minister Josh let out a huge sigh of relief as the royal scribe carefully copied the decree they had just drafted.
Prince Rhydher spoke, his tone firm. "We're just getting started. The recruitment process will be exhausting, and we still have to convince the masses."
Josh rubbed his temple. "It's one thing to write a decree. Getting the nobility to accept it will be another."
The young prince replied with a composed tone, "We'll face resistance. But they'll fall in line once the results speak for themselves."
Drakseid had officially adopted the crown prince's military reforms, and as commander-in-chief of the army, it was my duty to assist him.
Should I feel lucky to still hold this position? I wasn't particularly attached to it. I had been considering retirement for some time, even though I wasn't yet of retirement age. Was I growing obsolete? Had the boy outpaced me already? Perhaps I should have been relieved with the new reforms making my work easier... but instead, I found myself gripping my sword tighter.
Seeing the young prince's vision for our army, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I wanted to stay—to witness firsthand what our kingdom would become under his leadership.
The decree states:
Royal Decree of Military Reform
By the Will of His Majesty, King of Drakseid
Let it be known throughout the kingdom that by royal command and with the counsel of Prince Rhydher, the kingdom of Drakseid shall enact the following military reforms for the strength and security of our land.
1. Standardization of Training and Structure: All standing forces shall undergo rigorous training under the newly established system called Sparta, replacing the traditional formations. Recruitment shall extend to all able-bodied men from the age of 12, with incentives granted to volunteers who complete the full training cycle. If any women feels the love of her nation then she may join the army. Status or origin do not matter. Every recruit will get equal treatment and discrimination shall not be tolerated.
1. Officer Corps and Command Reform: A centralized chain of command shall be established, with seasoned officers promoted based on merit and skill, rather than noble birth alone. Field commanders will undergo additional training in strategy, formations, and siege warfare to ensure competency on the battlefield.
3. Arms and Equipment Standardization: The kingdom shall begin mass production of standardized weapons, armor, and siege engines. Blacksmiths and craftsmen are to be commissioned under royal funding to produce and maintain military equipment.
4. Logistics and Mobilization: Garrisons shall be reorganized and fortified along key roads and borders. A standing reserve force shall be maintained, ensuring swift mobilization in times of war.
5. Citizenship and Service: Those who serve in the army with distinction shall be granted land, titles, or coin upon honorable discharge. Criminals may earn redemption through military service under strict supervision.
This decree is effective immediately. All regional governors, lords, and military officials are commanded to enact these reforms without delay. Let none defy this royal command under penalty of treason.
Come join the army and together we shall empower our kingdom to bend the wills of our enemy.
By Order of His Majesty, King of Drakseid— the Drakseid Phoenix King
With the Seal of the Crown
Things got busy real quick. We explained and demonstrated the Sparta System exactly as Prince Rhydher had taught us. The system itself was so complex that even I struggled to fully grasp it. It was designed to push human limits to their absolute extremes—to forge monsters of war.
Recruitment drives were held across the kingdom. The prince insisted on separating recruits by age and sex, tailoring their training accordingly.
The standing army, four thousand strong, had already begun training under the new system. It was brutal, merciless, and unforgiving—so much so that many tried to desert. Rhydher dealt with them swiftly. He didn't punish them physically—he didn't have to. Instead, he reminded them of the stakes.
"Four years." He told them. "Follow this system for just four years, and retaking Fort Gehena will be child's play. I will personally lead the mission, and when that day comes, it won't even be worth calling a campaign."
His words carried weight. Fort Gehena was a scar on our pride. Our captured brothers were rotting in its dungeons, their fates unknown. The bandits who took the fort rejected all diplomatic talks and ransom offers—proving they only understood one thing: strength.
"We will teach them a lesson." Rhydher declared. "We will show the world our newfound power."
A fire was lit in their hearts. From that moment on, no one complained. They gave everything to the Sparta System.
There were setbacks, of course. But by the time the new recruits—ranging from twelve to sixteen—were ready to begin training, only a month had passed since the prince's sixth birthday.
To mark the occasion, the entire army, the ministers, and the king himself gathered at Fort Hope for an official ceremony to announce and adopt the military reforms.
Fort Hope was more than just a fortress to us—it was a symbol. Built by the first king of Drakseid, it stood on the very ground where the legendary Rhydher made his last stand, holding the line against ten thousand invaders determined to wipe out our ancestors.
Now, another Rhydher stood before us.
Somehow, it felt nostalgic—as if history itself was watching.
Then, the young crown prince stepped forward. His voice, still young but unshaken, cut through the air like a blade.
This time, his speech carried even more force, fire, and nerve.
The young prince stepped forward, standing atop the ancient stage of Fort Hope. The wind carried his voice across the gathered ranks—soldiers, recruits, ministers, and the king himself—yet it was not the wind that made them listen. It was the weight of his words.
"Look around you." His voice was sharp, commanding. "These walls were not built to keep us safe. They were built to remind us of who we are."
He gestured to the towering fortress behind him.
"This land was not given to us. It was fought for. Our ancestors bled for every stone, every blade of grass beneath our feet. They stood here—where we stand now—and held the line against enemies that wanted them gone. They did not yield. They did not falter. They did what had to be done so that their children could live."
His brown eyes burned with conviction.
"But their sons grew weak."
A hush fell over the crowd.
"We have grown soft behind these walls. We have allowed our enemies to take what is ours, to slaughter our brothers, to lock them in dungeons and laugh at our weakness. And we have done nothing."
He let the words sink in. He let shame boil into anger.
Then, he raised his voice.
"That ends today!"
The recruits straightened. Soldiers clenched their fists. The fire in their prince's voice ignited something within them.
"From this day forth, we fight for honor. We fight for glory. We fight because we must. Because if we do not, we will be the last sons of Drakseid. The last warriors of this land. The last free men to walk this kingdom before it is swallowed by those who see us as weak."
He stepped forward, his presence towering despite his age.
"I do not ask you to become soldiers. I ask you to become something more—something unstoppable. The kind of warriors whose names will be etched into history not for their deaths, but for their victories. The kind of men whose enemies will whisper their names in fear. The kind of force that will make the world remember what Drakseid truly is."
His voice turned cold, sharp as a dagger.
"They think we are nothing. They think we are weak. Let them believe it."
He smiled.
"Because when we march, when we strike, when we reclaim what is ours, they will finally understand what a true monster looks like." The silence shattered. A roar erupted from the recruits and soldiers alike. Fists raised. Weapons slammed against shields. The ground itself seemed to tremble beneath their war cries.
Rhydher stood before us, unwavering.
This was no longer a gathering. This was the birth of an army.
This was war.
I stood beside the king, my bones heavier than they had ever been, yet my spirit lighter than it had in years. I watched his son—the child who had just turned soldiers into monsters with nothing but words—and I felt something I had not felt in a long, long time.
Dread.
Hope.
I turned to the king, my voice worn by years of battle. "Perhaps it is time I lay down my sword, Your Highness. The boy speaks as though the throne were already his."
The king let out a quiet chuckle, though I could hear the unease beneath it. "I suspect men like us will still be of use to him for some time."
A diplomatic answer. A careful one. The king knew as well as I did—his son had just become something far greater than a mere prince.
The crowd still roared, chanting his name as he stepped down from the stage. He moved with the grace of one far beyond his years, his brown eyes burning with something unnatural. Even the stairs seemed to bow beneath his steps, as though the world itself was beginning to recognize him.
I let out a slow breath, and for the first time in decades, I counted the years left in my weary bones.
How many more would I live to see?
How many more would I last, watching this child do the impossible?