Location: Command Tent, Northern Borders
Vivian's voice rang sharply against the canvas of the northern command tent.
"You're not placing him near the evacuation center."
The air was brittle with tension.
The scent of ink, worn leather, and steel clung to every surface of the massive field tent. Maps spread across the central table fluttered slightly from the breeze sneaking in through the flaps.
Three armies' worth of commanding officers stood in varying states of unease, clustered around their commanders and waiting for orders.
War drums echoed in the distance, low and distant, like a dying heartbeat.
Ethan von Shelb stood tall at the edge of the table, arms folded. Sweat darkened the collar of his black uniform.
His golden hair clung damply to his forehead, still unwashed from the last wyvern patrol. He hadn't even taken off his flying goggles.
Beside him stood Vivian, the Imperial Guard platoon commander of the princess, crimson cape draped neatly over her shoulders.
Her jaw was tight, and her hand hovered near her rapier's hilt.
Vivian's emerald eyes never left the man across from her.
Rüdiger Ashford.
He looked like a sinister mirror of Raphael. The second son of the Duchy of Ashford, Rüdiger stood with one hand lazily resting on his sword pommel.
His inky black curls were drawn back into a half-tied tail, the rest falling like shadows down his back. His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement.
"Strategist Vivian," he drawled, voice smooth and condescending, "surely you don't believe I would harm your women and children. I'm merely offering my strength where it's most needed."
Fredrick von Altona entered then, his tall frame casting a shadow over the discussion. Snow dusted the shoulder of his cloak. His steel-grey eyes flicked between them all before he let out a long breath.
"Vivian, I asked my uncle to send someone strong. This is who arrived."
"We asked for aid, not more enemies."
"Can you put up with him just this once?" Fredrick asked, a headache imminent. "For the sake of the people of the North."
Vivian didn't budge. Her voice dropped, low and venomous.
"And the last woman he and his brother were near drank poison and died."
Ethan stiffened. His voice cut through the growing murmur in the tent.
"Vivian."
Ethan had his reservations towards Vivian after Micheal's revelations, but that didn't mean that he was going to stand by and let her give Rüdiger a chance to have her court-martialed.
She didn't look at him.
Fredrick raised both hands, stepping forward. "Let's not do this. Not here. Not now."
But Vivian stepped backward, her presence magnetic and cold.
She knew that at times it was best to strategically retreat.
But that didn't mean she wasn't angry.
Her rapier made a soft whispering noise as she drew it a few inches from its sheath. A warning that she wouldn't hesitate if needed.
Rüdiger chuckled. "If commoner whores try to sleep their way up, it's hardly my fault they trip."
Vivian moved so fast, even Ethan didn't catch it until her blade was halfway out. Her hand trembled. Rage flickered in her eyes.
"Say that again."
Before she could fully draw her rapier, Ethan held her back reflexively.
Rüdiger didn't flinch. "My, my... so emotional."
He traced the map in front of him.
"I'm better suited to handle the stray beasts," Rüdiger said, flicking his gaze toward Fredrick. "Large-area attacks. I have the mana reserves for it. You know that."
Fredrick frowned. "That may be true, but putting you near the evacuation center—"
"Is the best tactical choice," Rüdiger interrupted, eyes gleaming. "No one else here can clear that much terrain as fast."
Vivian's knuckles whitened.
Fredrick glanced at Ethan, seeking support.
Ethan cleared his throat. "There's still the barrier grid to maintain. It requires high reserves. Perhaps your power is better utilized there."
Rüdiger chuckled. "How generous of you to suggest the job with the least combat. I'm not interested in playing glorified gatekeeper."
"You might stay on the walls with Micheal," Ethan suggested.
Rüdiger sneered at Ethan. "What now? Trying to use me to babysit your sickly little brother?"
Ethan exhaled, long and slow.
"It was just a suggestion."
Rüdiger's lip curled. "Oh, splendid. The Shelb bloodhound wants me to babysit his baby brother now."
He fully turned to Ethan, a wicked grin on his face.
"Helping Valenhart, Ethan? Must be hard, watching your now-married lover cozy up with Valenhart."
Vivian's eyes flared. "Watch your mouth."
Rüdiger pivoted toward her with a sneer. "Ah, the flashy Imperial Guard. Always so emotional. I remember one of your kind—what was her name? Some commoner slut who tried to crawl into my brother Lucan's bed for a promotion."
Vivian's jaw clenched.
"She ended up pregnant," Rüdiger continued casually, as if recounting a dull anecdote. "Thought she could tie him down. She drank poison when he tossed her aside."
Ethan stiffened. Vivian's breath hitched.
Rüdiger shrugged. "Can't fault us if gutter rats think sleeping with nobility's a shortcut."
Vivian's hand flew to her hilt.
Fredrick moved quickly, stepping in again. "Enough. Not another word."
Vivian's hand snapped toward her hilt.
Fredrick barely had time to move.
He rushed between them, placing a hand on her wrist. "Vivian. No."
"You don't know what his brother did," she hissed.
Fredrick gave her a look, quiet and pained. "Yes. I do."
Her eyes widened. Fredrick looked away.
Ethan's grip on Vivian loosened. He moved forward, his body sliding between Vivian and Rüdiger like a wall of steel. He towered over both of them.
"Stand down. Now."
Vivian looked up at him, lips trembling.
She was shocked that Ethan, who followed her spirit of justice, was stopping her.
"She was my mentor, Ethan. She was ruined by his vicious brother."
Ethan's voice stayed steady. "And you think you getting court-martialed is what she'd want?"
Rüdiger smirked. "Oh, I didn't realize she was your mentor. No wonder you're so bitter."
Fredrick turned, voice hard now. "Rüdiger. Enough."
Vivian's hand clenched the hilt of her sword. For a breathless second, everyone in the command tent braced for the shriek of steel.
But Ethan's voice, low and commanding, broke through.
"Vivian. This isn't the time."
She looked at him. Then at Fredrick.
And slowly, with shaking fingers, she sheathed her blade.
The tent stayed silent, save for the flap of the war maps and the distant thunder of drums.
Fredrick turned to the officers.
"Let's continue the meeting. The enemy arrives at dawn. We have a night to prepare."
But the storm had already landed within the tent. And the cracks in the chain of command had begun to show.