Jack climbed the narrow, creaking staircase of the apartment building, the smell of cabbage and old wood-wax thick in the air. On the third-floor landing, he spotted a familiar figure. Mrs. Shallenbaum, an elderly beastfolk woman with soft, graying fur around her muzzle, was leaning heavily against the banister, clutching two bulging bags of groceries.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Shallenbaum," Jack greeted, stepping up quickly.
The old lady turned, her breath coming in short, ragged puffs. "Oh, Jack. My goodness, you startled me. Where have you been all day?"
"Just hanging out with Tavros and Kenlil," Jack said, gently taking the heavy bags from her arms. "We took a walk into the city center to see if there was any work hiring."
"Is that right?" Mrs. Shallenbaum asked as they began the slow ascent to the fourth floor.
Jack nodded. "Mostly just window shopping for a paycheck, I'm afraid."
The old lady looked at him, her eyes softening. "Well, if you're looking for honest work, my son Robert is looking for apple pickers down at his farm. It's a good haul this year, and the pay is fair for young guys like you."
Jack smiled, feeling a pang of guilt. He knew he wouldn't be picking apples this season. "To be honest, that was just our excuse, Mrs. Shallenbaum. We were actually sightseeing the girls in the city. Ken is getting to the age where he ought to be married, but he can't talk to a girl to save his life. Tavros and I figured we might be able to help him."
The old lady let out a raspy, musical laugh that shook her small frame. "You young bloods! Always chasing shadows. Maybe I should employ you boys to help my grandson with his problem, too."
Jack raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Philip? You're kidding. I don't think Philip is going to need any help with that, Mrs. Shallenbaum. The ladies around this block always look up to him. Even us boys envy him for his looks."
The old lady beamed, her tail giving a tiny, instinctive wag. "Can't help it if he inherited the looks of his grandmother."
Jack let out a quiet laugh. "That's quite true."
"Well," the old lady continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "he has his eyes on one particular lady who lives near the pub."
Jack thought for a moment, mentally scanning the faces he usually saw near the Rusty Gear. "I can't think of anyone who he might be interested in over that way. Who is it?"
"You know... Smith's daughter?"
Jack stopped mid-step, blinking in disbelief. "Christine? Smith's daughter, Christine?"
The old lady smiled knowingly.
"Mrs. Shallenbaum, most of the boys—even us—know Christine all too well. She doesn't mess around. I've seen her beat three suitors to a pulp in one night for just looking at her wrong. Don't tell me Philip likes her?"
"You didn't hear that from me," she said with a wink.
Jack shook his head, a look of genuine concern crossing his face. "Well, to be honest, I don't think any of us can help Philip with that problem. Not even with the help of the gods." He paused, his expression shifting as the reality of the morning's decision returned. "But... me, Tavros, and Ken decided today. We're signing up for the military."
Mrs. Shallenbaum's smile faltered. The light in the hallway seemed to dim.
"With the Republic joining the war in Crols," Jack continued softly, "we figured if we made it through... well, as fighting men in uniform, it might be easier for us to convince some ladies to give us a second look."
The old lady's face crumpled into a mask of sadness. She looked away, her hands trembling slightly. "That's exactly what my grandson said. He thinks if he joins the military, he might finally have a chance with Christine. But I can't help but worry about him, Jack. He's a good boy, but he's not... he's not made of iron."
Jack stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as they reached her door. "Don't worry, Mrs. Shallenbaum. I'm sure Philip can handle it. Especially when he has someone like you…or Christine to return home to."
The old lady looked up at him, a tear caught in the fur beneath her eye. "Thank you, Jack. You've always been a kind soul."
"No problem," Jack said, handing her the groceries as she unlocked the door. "We're all going down to sign up together tomorrow morning. If Philip comes along with us, we can give him a hand—show him the ropes, make sure he doesn't get lost in the shuffle."
Mrs. Shallenbaum's face brightened with a touch of hope. "Oh, that would be perfect. I'll let him know right away. Thank you, Jack. Truly."
"See you tomorrow, Mrs. Shallenbaum," Jack said, turning back toward the stairs.
As he climbed the final flight to his own floor, the warmth of the conversation drained away. He thought of Philip, a boy who was joining a meat grinder just to impress a girl who could already outfight him. He thought of Tavros and Kenlil. They were all walking into a storm, convinced that a uniform would solve their problems.
Jack reached his door and pulled out his key. He knew the truth that they didn't. The uniform didn't make you a man; it just made you a target. And in the war that was coming, even balls of orichalcum wouldn't be enough to keep a soul intact.