Special Servant Force? Ken thought. Me? The guy who wants to be a potato farmer? You have got to be kidding me.

  The silence was broken by the sound of Khadija gasping. She stood up abruptly, her hands covering her mouth in shock.

  "What?" she cried out. "Ken? My Ken? He has been selected for the Princess's SSF team?"

  She looked from Finlay to Ken and back again. She couldn't believe it. Her son was lazy. He was messy. He tripped over his own feet. How could he be chosen for something so elite?

  "But... but how?" Khadija asked, her voice trembling. "There must be a mistake! Ken is just... he is just a normal boy!"

  Brandon looked confused. He pulled on his wife’s hand gently. "Honey, calm down. What is going on? What does SSF mean? Is it a job?"

  Khadija turned to her husband. Her eyes were filled with fear. She knew things about the magical world that Brandon, a factory worker, didn't pay attention to.

  "No, Brandon, it’s not just a job," Khadija explained, her voice shaking. "SSF means Special Servants. They are the elite guards. They are powerful young people who are chosen to stand with the Princess during the Succession War. They have to fight, Brandon. They have to fight in the war!"

  ----

  The word "War" seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the room.

  Brandon’s face went gray. He looked at the Grandmaster, then at his son. "War? You want my son to fight in the Succession War?"

  Grandmaster Finlay sat calmly amidst the panic. He was used to this reaction. "It is a great honor," he said smoothly. "To serve a member of the Royal Family is the highest duty a citizen can perform. The 13th Princess has reviewed many files, and she has selected your son."

  Ken sat on his small stool, feeling a headache coming on. This was exactly what he didn't want. He wanted to be invisible. He wanted to be a background character. Being selected for a "Special Servant Force" sounded like the main plot of a hero story, and Ken hated hero stories. They always involved too much running, sweating, and screaming.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  "Um, excuse me," Ken said, raising his hand slowly. He kept his voice low and unsure. "Mr. Grandmaster, sir? I think there has been a mix-up."

  Finlay turned his blue eyes toward Ken. "A mix-up?"

  Jasmin kicked Ken’s shin under the table. "Ow!" Ken yelped.

  "Shut up, Ken!" Jasmin hissed. "You are talking to a Grandmaster!"

  Finlay did not smile. He did not look amused. "There is no mistake," he said firmly. "The order specifies Ken Eliot, son of Brandon and Khadija Eliot, residing in the Iron Rose District. The Princess has an eye for talent. She believes you have hidden qualities."

  "Hidden qualities?" Ken thought. She definitely doesn't know about my magic. I’ve sealed it perfectly. So what did she see? Did she see me eating a sandwich really fast? Is that a talent?

  Khadija stepped forward. She looked terrified, but her motherly instinct was stronger than her fear of the Grandmaster.

  "Sir," she said, her voice shaking but determined. "My son... he has no combat training. He has very little magic power. We tested him when he was a child, and his mana levels were average. Below average, actually! If you take him to a war, he will... he will get hurt."

  She didn't want to say the word die, but everyone heard it in the silence.

  Finlay looked at Khadija with a surprisingly gentle expression. He respected parents who protected their children.

  "Madam," Finlay said softly. "The Special Servant Force is not just about raw power. It is about loyalty, intelligence, and potential. The Princess needs a team she can trust. And once he joins, he will be trained. He will be protected by the best instructors in the Empire. He will become stronger than you can imagine."

  "But he is my son!" Khadija cried, tears welling up in her eyes. "He is just a boy! He likes to sleep and read comic books. He isn't a warrior!"

  Brandon stood up slowly. He put an arm around his wife to support her. He looked at Finlay with a serious, heavy gaze.

  "Grandmaster," Brandon said. "We are simple people. We don't want glory. We don't want money. We just want our family to be safe. You heard the news today. The Succession War is going to be brutal. Why would you drag a commoner like Ken into the middle of a battle between Princes?"

  "Yeah," Ken added helpfully from the back. "I’m really bad at fighting. I’m a pacifist. I love peace. And potatoes."

  Finlay sighed. He rested his hands on his armored knees. "I understand your fear. It is natural. But you must understand the situation. The 13th Princess is... in a difficult position. She does not have the support of the great noble houses. She does not have an army of thousands like her brothers and sisters. She has to find talent in unexpected places."

  He looked at Ken again. This time, his gaze was intense. "She needs people who are not corrupted by the politics of the court. She needs fresh allies. And for some reason, she chose you."

  Ken felt a cold sweat on his back. This Princess sounds like trouble, he thought. She’s an underdog. That means she’s going to be targeted by everyone else. If I join her team, I’m basically putting a giant target on my back.

  "But what is the SSF exactly?" Brandon asked, his voice sounding hollow. "I know it’s for the war, but what will he actually do?"

  Khadija lifted her head. She wiped her eyes and looked at her husband. Since Brandon worked all day in the factory, he didn't follow the complex rules of the Imperial games. Khadija, who listened to the radio while she sewed, knew exactly what it meant.

  "Honey," Khadija said, her voice trembling as she explained it to him. "The SSF... they are the Princess's personal team. During the Succession War, the Princes and Princesses cannot fight each other directly all the time. Instead, they use their Servants."

  She took a deep breath. "The Servants have to go on missions. They have to hunt monsters. They have to capture territories. And sometimes... sometimes they have to fight the Servants of other Princes. It is a series of deadly games, Brandon. And only the strongest team survives to make their master the Emperor or Empress."

  She looked at Ken with heartbreak in her eyes. "They are asking Ken to step into an arena of monsters and killers."

  Brandon’s face lost all color. He looked at Ken, who was still sitting on his stool, looking messy and unheroic.

  "My Ken..." Brandon whispered. "Against monsters?"

  Ken looked at his parents. He felt a rare pang of guilt. He wasn't worried about the monsters. He could snap his fingers and vaporize a dragon if he had to. He wasn't worried about the other servants either. He was faster than all of them combined.