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The morning air was crisp, tinged with the faint scent of steel and hydrangeas as the train hissed quietly on the platform. Sankt Jeder was waking up, but at Platform 3, the Nouzen family was already wide awake—though one of them was doing a poor job pretending to be calm.
“Don’t forget to eat real food,” Lena said, smoothing out a wrinkle on Alice’s shoulder. “And text me when you get there. No— before you get there. And—”
“Mom,” Alice laughed, her silver hair bouncing gently over her shoulders. “You’re making me sound like I’m going to another battlefield. It’s just university.”
“You’d think she'd never seen someone leave home before,” Shin said, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. The faint smirk on his lips belied the melancholy in his eyes. “But your mom does have a habit of adopting strays and worrying them to death.”
Lena elbowed him in the side with a glare. “You did the exact same thing last night when you gave her that speech about ‘living deliberately and remembering who you are.’ ”
“I was being practical,” Shin said, deadpan.
Alice rolled her crimson eyes. “I’m gonna remember you both exactly like this when I’m up to my neck in exams.”
“Don’t worry,” said a cheeky voice behind her. “I’ll be sure to embarrass you with it every time you visit.”
Alice turned and bent down, catching her younger brother in a hug. “Oh, Rei, don’t cry just because your big sister’s going to become cooler than you.”
“Psh. As if,” Rei said, trying to push her off—but only halfheartedly. His red hair was tousled from sleep, and the contrast of his silver and red eyes glittered with something dangerously close to tears. “You're just running away before I beat your high score on Contra. Coward.”
“Tell you what—beat it, and I’ll buy you a go kart.”
“You’re gonna regret saying that.”
“I already do,” Alice said, laughing.
A low mechanical hum echoed from behind her, followed by a chirpy: "Pi!"
Fido rolled up beside her on tiny legs, his body now a compact, miniaturized version of his old Scavenger unit. Though his rectangular sensor still pulsed red like a faithful heartbeat, he now bore a red cloth scarf wrapped around his chassis just beneath the optic—Shin’s final modification before giving him to Alice.
Shin knelt beside the mechanical companion and gently rapped a knuckle on his shell. “Fido.”
“Pi.”
“Keep an eye on her. You know what to do.”
The robot gave a vigorous nod, letting out a few happy beeps and a low, synthesized growl of affirmation. His red sensor blinked once.
Alice smiled and leaned down. “Come on, old boy. Let’s go.”
Fido followed her obediently onto the train, his legs whirring softly against the platform. Alice spared one last glance behind her—at her parents waving, at Rei flashing a mock salute—and then turned away before her throat could tighten.
The train car was quiet, and Alice took a window seat in the middle. The late morning sun slanted through the glass, dappling her lap in gold. She dropped her duffel on the seat beside her, reached into the side pocket, and pulled out a small remote.
One button. She pressed it.
There was a flicker of static.
Then:
“Voice function online. Good morning, little miss.”
Alice smiled.
“You’re finally talking again, huh?” she said. “Took you long enough.”
Fido settled beside her seat, his legs folding into place.
“I had to save it for the right person.”
Her heart twitched.
She turned her head, pressing her temple against the window and letting the landscape blur into color and motion. She didn’t say anything at first. Neither did Fido.
Only after several minutes passed—quiet minutes filled with the lull of the train and the faint hum of machinery—did she whisper, “I’m scared.”
“Of course you are,” Fido replied gently. “You’re doing something brave.”
Her voice trembled. “I don’t want them to see me cry.”
There was the soft whir of metal, then a gentle weight pressing against her leg. Fido’s chassis nudged her knee.
“You don’t have to be strong here. Just honest.”
Her breath hitched.
The tears came silently—she didn’t sob, didn’t shake—just slow, glimmering streams that traced down her cheeks as she hid behind her bangs. Fido didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to.
He just stayed with her.
Her old guardian. Her father’s old shadow. The keeper of memories too painful to name, now reborn as a comfort for a new beginning.
When the end of Giad’s border finally came into view, her eyes were dry.
She reached out and placed her hand on Fido’s chassis.
“Thanks, Fido.”
“Anytime, little miss.”
The train lulled forward through the countryside, metal wheels whispering against the tracks. Outside the wide-paneled windows, the scenery began to shift—from the fir trees of Giad’s heartland to the rolling Snow covered hills and gilded spires of the Roa Gracian frontier. Pastures soaked in cloudy sunlight stretched lazily beneath the sky, dotted with white grazing mares and the curved silhouettes of ancient towers.
Alice leaned her cheek into the windowpane and let the silence soak into her skin.
“Pretty,” she murmured, eyes following the slow sway of trees. “It almost looks like one of the old picture books Mom used to show us.”
Fido's red sensor blinked once. Then, in his slightly glitchy, but warm and formal tone, he said:
“The Kingdom of Roa Gracia is famed for its preserved historical architecture and snowy weather patterns. An optimal region for both scholarly pursuit.”
She snorted softly. “Are you reading off a travel brochure again?”
“Affirmative. I have memorized six publications detailing the academic and sociocultural aspects of Roa Gracia.”
She smiled. "You're such a dork."
“Correction. I am a 'highly adaptable, formerly combat-rated reconnaissance support unit' with over one hundred confirmed rescue operations. Dork is… a matter of perspective.”
Alice laughed, brushing a lock of silver hair behind her ear. The tension in her chest hadn't quite vanished, but it ebbed slowly now, like tidewater around a pier.
It wasn't just the fact that she was going far from home. It was that she’d chosen to. Not for war. Not for survival. But because she wanted to. Because she could.
Because her parents had fought to make sure she had that choice.
“...Is it weird I feel guilty?” she asked aloud, after a while.
Fido tilted his head.
“Please elaborate, little miss.”
She closed her eyes. “Mom and Dad... they lived through hell. So many people they cared about died for this world we’re living in now. And here I am, packing up my duffel and heading to university like it’s just some cute little dream. I feel like I’m leaving something behind. Or maybe I’m not honoring it the right way.”
Fido processed for several seconds.
“Forgive me, but I must disagree.”
That made her open her eyes.
“You are not diminishing the sacrifices made. You are fulfilling their purpose. You are living. You are choosing to grow, not merely survive. This was their hope.”
Alice blinked rapidly, a sting in her eyes.
“I’m really glad you’re here, Fido.”
“And I am honored to serve, little miss.” He paused, then added: “Even if you insist on rejecting the offer from King Viktor to reside in the Roa Gracian royal estate.”
That made her groan. “Ugh, not you too.”
“It is my duty to ensure your wellbeing. Refusing a secure and stately residence in favor of ‘standardized student housing with communal showers’ seems statistically ill-advised.”
“I don’t want to be special, Fido.” She sat up straighter now, her voice soft but firm. “I’m not a princess. I don’t want to be treated like one. I want to be Alice Nouzen—freshman political history student, three-time martial arts club runner-up, and former detention regular.”
Fido was quiet for a moment.
“I do not understand why those accolades are preferable to a private chef, silk bedding, and daily royal guard patrols.”
She laughed again. “Because it’s normal. Because that’s what all the other students get. Roommates and all.”
“I have access to their social media accounts, and most of them seem displeased by such arrangements.”
“Well, I guess I’ll fit right in, then.”
They both fell into silence again, the train crossing a long bridge that overlooked a vast aquamarine lake. Sunlight glanced off the water like scattered diamonds.
Alice leaned back and folded her arms. “…You know, I think Dad knew I'd turn down the castle. That’s why he didn’t even bring it up.”
“He knows you well.”
“Too well.”
She smiled a little more sadly now. “He used to say the scariest thing about peace was that it gives you time to think. Time to… miss people.”
Her fingers clenched slightly in her sleeves.
“I never met Dad’s comrades from when he was in district 86. But I think about them sometimes. I wonder what they’d think of me going to college. Studying politics. Living in a country where no one has to pilot a Juggernaut at fourteen.”
She swallowed.
“I hope they wouldn’t think I was selfish.”
Fido’s voice came quiet, almost reverent.
“They would be proud.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. They would be proud that you are dreaming without fear. That is the inheritance they wished to leave.”
Alice wiped her eye with the heel of her palm. “You always know what to say.”
“I was programmed by the best.”
They sat together, girl and machine, as the hills gave way to cobbled cities and castle silhouettes, and the great bell towers of Roa Gracia glimmered like watchful guardians in the noon light.
And for the first time that morning, Alice felt ready.
The sharp chime of the station bell startled Alice awake.
She blinked into the high, arched ceiling of the train car, momentarily unsure of where she was. Her cheek was tacky against the window, sunlight now much lower in the sky and painting the world in soft amber.
“Time?” she murmured groggily, rubbing her eyes.
“Seventeen twenty-nine hours,” Fido answered in his calm, formal tone from the seat across from her. “We arrive in four minutes.”
Alice sat up, stretching her arms over her head until her back popped. “Three-hour nap, huh... Guess I needed it.”
“I did not wish to disturb you, little miss. You were drooling.”
She glared at him. “ Fido. ”
“It was charming.”
The train gave a gentle lurch, slowing as it approached the platform. Beyond the glass, the station of Halethcourt—a stunning mix of neo-gothic design and Roa Gracian craftsmanship—came into view. Slender pillars. Stained-glass windows. Ironwork balustrades catching the light in intricate vines and sigils.
In the square beyond, amid the slow crowd of students, citizens, and merchants, one spot stood conspicuously… empty.
And in front of that empty space: a black, sleek, and obviously state-issued limousine.
Alice sighed, grabbing her duffel and slinging it over her shoulder. “Of course.”
The train doors hissed open. She stepped onto the platform with Fido trundling faithfully behind her, his sensor sweeping the space with muted curiosity.
The moment she set foot on the polished stone, a graceful figure peeled from the side of the limo like a shadow slipping from gold.
“Miss Nouzen.”
The voice was smooth, feminine, and clipped with military precision—but threaded with something almost teasing.
Alice turned to see a tall woman standing there in her signature scarlet tunic, one side pinned back to reveal a deep navy undergarment, the edges stitched with the insignia of the Roa Gracian First Armored Corps. Her golden-blonde hair was braided down her back in a neat fall, and her emerald eyes gleamed like polished glass.
Lerche.
The Sirin prototype—first of her kind.
“Aunt Lerche,” Alice said, smirking. “I specifically said I didn’t want any special treatment.”
Lerche placed a hand to her chest and dipped into a half-curtsy—half-mocking, half-solemn. “And I relayed that message, faithfully and with the utmost sincerity.”
Her gaze flicked up, expression shifting into an arch smile. “But His Majesty was horrified at the thought of his precious niece wandering the cobbled streets unescorted, like some commoner. ”
Alice groaned. “Oh, come on.”
“He even asked me if students carry their own luggage these days,” Lerche added, voice thick with dramatic pity. “I assured him you would survive the ordeal. I was simply not believed.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Tell him I’m filing a formal complaint.”
“I’ll have the parchment ready by dinner,” Lerche said without missing a beat. “Should I begin it with ‘To His Majesty, Lord Idinarohk, Eternal Pain in My Neck’?”
Alice chuckled, then shifted her duffel higher onto her shoulder. Fido wheeled to Lerche’s side, then to Alice’s again, his red sensor blinking as he processed the exchange.
“This is not a common greeting for Sirins to deliver, is it?”
“Not exactly,” Alice muttered. “Lerche likes to make things theatrical.”
Lerche raised a brow. “Says the girl who stormed out of a political gala at thirteen for ‘being boring and dumb.’”
“I stand by that statement,” Alice muttered as she climbed into the limo.
Fido rolled in after her, tucking himself neatly into a bracketed corner of the backseat. Lerche followed, closing the door behind them with a quiet click.
The limo pulled away smoothly, casting a long shadow across the station’s marble.
Outside the tinted windows, the city of Halethcourt unfurled before them—stone towers rising like old trees, lanterns suspended from bridges, and the smell of rain in the air from some distant part of the kingdom. A place steeped in both magic and machinery, history and war, and now… the mundane promise of classrooms, essays, and maybe, just maybe, a fresh start.
Alice leaned back into the seat, watching the light slip across her fingers.
“...Thanks for coming, Lerche.”
Lerche glanced her way, and for a brief moment—under all the sarcasm, formality, and artificial calm—there was something warmer.
“Always, dear.”
The ride from the station to the Rosenhall Dormitory Complex didn’t take long—just enough time for Alice to mentally rehearse her introduction, regret packing so many books, and threaten Fido (half-seriously) to please not record everything.
The complex itself was a broad crescent-shaped building tucked between a manicured canal and a wide green square. Students walked its stone paths with luggage, datapads, coffee cups, and wide eyes. A few looked slightly jetlagged. Others looked like they were on the run from a noble house scandal.
“Dorm 4B,” Alice muttered, scanning the directory on her holo-tab. “Top floor. Great.”
She slung her duffel over her shoulder with a grunt.
“Allow me,” Fido offered politely, extending a fold-out sub-arm.
She blinked, then smiled. “Thanks, Fido. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Affirmative. I am a designated emotional support unit.”
“And you’re way better than a roommate who eats my snacks.”
Room 4B had a polished wooden door, brass numberplate, and the faint sound of something electronic happening inside. Music? Sparks? Possibly both?
Alice pressed the panel.
The door slid open with a mechanical hiss—and immediately a blur of motion darted past her.
“ DUCK! ”
Alice instinctively lowered her head— just as a flying drone zoomed overhead with a yowling mechanical squeal and embedded itself in the hallway wall.
She straightened slowly. “...What the hell.”
From inside, a voice called, “Sorry! Sorry! That was supposed to turn left!”
A tall, tan-skinned girl with electric orange braids poked her head out. Her eyes gleamed beneath a pair of magnification goggles. She wore a sleeveless hoodie with ‘RAMMSTEIN FOR LIFE’ on it and fingerless gloves still sizzling faintly at the edges.
She spotted Alice, brightened instantly. “You must be Alice! I'm Rin . Official techno-gremlin. And I swear I wasn’t trying to kill you.”
Alice blinked. “You launched a drone at my face.”
“Accidentally! But, like... welcome to 4B.”
Before Alice could respond, another figure leaned out from behind Rin. A shorter girl with dark violet-black hair, twin buns, and a very sparkly cardigan. She had a lollichoco in her mouth, a stuffed wyvern plush in one arm, and an aura that could only be described as chaotic cheerleader gremlin princess.
“Ooooooh, she’s so pretty,” the girl cooed. “Look at those eyes. Blood red. Are you secretly a vampire? Or, wait—wait, are you the illegitimate daughter of a ghost general and a battle goddess?”
Alice blinked again. “Uh.”
“She’s teasing,” Rin muttered. “Mostly.”
“I’m Nessa! ” the girl declared, stepping forward and grabbing Alice’s hand in both of hers. “But you can call me Nessie, unless you’re mad at me, in which case call me by my full name so I know to stop talking.”
Alice gave her a bemused look. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Are these your assigned bunkmates?” Fido asked from behind her, walking slowly into view.
“Oh. My. GOD,” Nessie gasped, dropping Alice’s hand to rush at Fido like an excited puppy. “Is this a real, moving, talking mech-companion? He’s so cute! ”
“I am not cute,” Fido said, a little too quickly. “I am fully weaponized.”
“That’s what makes you cute,” Nessie replied dreamily.
“Okay, Ness, step away from the high-voltage warbot,” Rin muttered, dragging her back by the collar. She glanced at Alice. “Your mech’s got a voicebox mod?”
Alice nodded. “My dad installed it. Fido’s been around since before I was born.”
“Approximately eighteen years, eight months, and six days.”
Rin let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s loyalty.”
Their dorm room had three beds, three desks, and exactly one functioning coffee machine (“ Don’t unplug her, she’s sentient, ” Nessie warned solemnly). The walls were already plastered with colorful posters—pop stars, vintage war propaganda, ancient spell circles—and a giant sign that read: ‘NO NOBILITY ALLOWED UNLESS THEY BRING SNACKS.’
Alice tossed her bag onto the neatly made third bed, letting out a long breath.
Rin flopped back onto her own bunk, legs swinging over the side. “So… what’s your story, Alice? You’ve got this mysterious transfer energy. Rich? Royal? Runaway spy?”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Not even close.”
Nessie propped her chin on her wyvern plush. “Then what?”
She paused, then shrugged. “Just a student. Like you.”
They both stared at her.
“…Liar,” Rin said, smirking.
“Definitely a vampire princess,” Nessie whispered.
Fido beeped quietly.
“I was instructed not to comment on classified bloodlines.”
“Fido,” Alice hissed.
Nessie and Rin howled with laughter.
And just like that, the tension in her shoulders eased—replaced by something lighter. Warmer.
This wasn’t a battlefield.
This was her life. And it was just beginning.
It was just past midnight when the dorm finally quieted down.
Nessie had passed out with her headphones still blasting a dreamy synth-pop loop, one leg hanging off her bed and her wyvern plush squished to her face. Rin was muttering in her sleep about “magnetized toast” while snoring into a tangle of schematics and a half-finished circuit board.
Alice, meanwhile, sat curled up on the windowsill in her pajamas, bathed in the glow of city lights and the faint moonlight that slipped through the cloud cover.
She held her tablet in both hands, the call icon glowing gently on the screen.
She hesitated a second.
Then tapped.
The line connected almost instantly, and a sleepy but familiar voice answered, “...Alice?”
“Hey, Mom.”
There was a soft inhale on the other end. “You made it safely?”
“Yup. Sorry it’s so late—I lost track of time unpacking. Nessie kept showing me her weird plush collection, and Rin almost lit her bed on fire testing a heat coil she swore was 'stable this time.’” She leaned her head against the cool window. “So yeah. Roommates are great.”
Lena’s relieved laugh came through, soft and warm. “I’m glad.”
There was a long pause, quiet but comfortable. The sound of papers shuffling in the background, maybe a cup of tea being set down.
Then Alice added, a little too casually: “Oh, by the way. Thanks for telling Uncle Vika to send Lerche to pick me up.”
“I didn’t,” Lena said immediately, suspiciously quickly.
Alice raised an eyebrow. “Really.”
“I didn’t!” Lena insisted. “Though... I might have mentioned your arrival time in passing during a weekly update. And maybe mentioned the station name.”
“Uh-huh. And then a state-issued limo showed up at the platform with Lerche in full dress uniform.”
“Oh no,” Lena groaned with a laugh. “He really did that?”
“He really did.” Alice smiled faintly. “She said the king was ‘horrified’ at the idea of his niece walking more than five meters unescorted.”
“I swear, your uncle and his flair for dramatics...”
“I don’t even want to think about what would’ve happened if I let him decorate my dorm.”
“Oh, he offered?”
“He called me on the way here. I said no. Politely. I think he’s going to send a care package instead.”
Lena sighed fondly. “You’re your father’s daughter. And mine.”
“I’m not sure which part of me is which anymore,” Alice murmured. Her eyes wandered over the skyline. “I feel like both. And neither. I don’t know if I’m trying to live up to you two… or trying not to.”
There was silence on the other end. Then Lena’s voice, gentle.
“You don’t have to live up to us, sweetheart. You just have to live.”
Alice closed her eyes, the words settling into her chest like warm embers.
“I’ll try,” she whispered.
“We’re proud of you,” Lena said. “So proud. You don’t have to earn it. It’s just... always been true.”
Alice sniffed, rubbing under her eye with her thumb. “I know.”
“I miss you already.”
“I miss you too. Dad asleep?”
“Completely. He tried staying up, but you know how he gets after ten.”
Alice chuckled. “Grumpy and philosophical?”
“And mutters book quotes in his sleep.”
Alice yawned, stretching a little. “Alright. I’ll let you go.”
“Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.”
“Oh—and Alice?”
“Yeah?”
“You didn’t drool on the train, did you?”
Alice’s face flushed. “ Mooom! ”
Faint laughter. Then the line disconnected.
She stared at the dark screen for a second, smiling to herself. The city outside was still glowing—alive and new.
And behind her, from the shadows near her bed, Fido’s voice whispered softly:
“That was nice, little miss.”
“Yeah,” she murmured, curling her knees to her chest. “It was.”