The quiet luxury of the master bedroom felt like a tactical base camp. I sat on the edge of the mattress, running my thumb over a smooth, dark rectangle of glass Lailac had left on the nightstand.
"What did you call this weapon again?" I asked silently, tilting the slab toward the evening light.
It's not a weapon, General—it's a samsung, Chrysty chuckled in my head. Touch the screen.
I tapped it carefully. The glass instantly flashed to life, displaying a bright screen with glowing symbols, a digital clock reading 3:15 PM, and a wall of unread notifications. I flinched, my hand instinctively reaching for a sword that wasn't at my hip.
"Sorcery," I muttered, narrowing my eyes at the glowing rectangle. "You're telling me this tiny glass plate holds the sum of human knowledge, long-distance communication, and thirty-billion-dollar business ledgers?"
Pretty much, Chrysty said. Swipe up to unlock it. I set the passcode to your old military rank code—0-4-0-5. Try it.
I swiped my thumb across the smooth surface and typed the numbers. The glass unlocked, revealing neat rows of applications. Within minutes of Chrysty's voice guiding me, I was scrolling through financial reports, news feeds, and messages. Back in 1954, sending a message to a border garrison took three days and two couriers. Now, I could inspect an entire supply chain with a tap of my finger.
The modern world was terrifyingly efficient.
"And what about that cold wind blowing from the wall?" I asked, pointing toward a sleek white box mounted near the high ceiling. "It's middle-of-the-day hot outside, yet this room feels like an autumn morning in the mountains."
That's an air conditioner, Chrysty explained, her spirit phantom floating near the device. And that circular machine in the corner with the spinning blades is an electric fan. No slaves waving palm fronds, no blocks of river ice. Just electricity.
I walked over to the wall control panel, pressing a small button marked with a snowflake symbol. The machine hummed, dropping the temperature by another degree.
"Brilliant," I whispered, a slow grin spreading across my face. "If my division had this kind of technology during the winter campaigns of '52, we would have overrun the eastern front in a week."
Focus, General, Chrysty teased softly. We aren't planning a siege on the eastern front. We're planning a siege on the EL family banquet.
I turned away from the air conditioner and picked up the phone again, tossing it casually into my palm before catching it.
"Same thing," I said, my gaze hardening as I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. "A battlefield is just a place where two forces collide. Tonight, the weapons might be silk dresses and stock options instead of steel and gunpowder, but the goal remains identical."
I looked at the time on the screen. 4:00 PM.
"Two hours until Grandfather's party," I said, stepping toward the walk-in closet filled with racks of high-end designer wear. "Chrysty, pick out the fiercest armor this decade has to offer. Tonight, the parasites meet the General."
The walk-in wardrobe was larger than my old command tent. Racks of silks, tailored suits, and shimmering gowns lined the walls, lit by soft recessed lighting. Near the front sat a bright, eye-searing dress made of sheer neon fabric with an absurdly low back.
"That's the dress Jurianna picked out for me," Chrysty admitted, her voice dropping into a bitter murmur. "She told me Grandfather would love the 'bold and modern' look. In reality, it made me look completely trashy in front of every old-money mogul in the city."
"It looks like a neon net meant for catching river fish," I said flatly, tossing the dress onto the floor without a second thought.
I browsed the racks until my eyes landed on a sharp, double-breasted navy pantsuit tailored from heavy, immaculate wool, paired with a silk ivory blouse. It had clean lines, sharp shoulders, and radiated absolute authority.
"This," I declared, pulling the suit from the rack. "This is military precision wrapped in high fashion."
Oh, Grandfather is going to love that, Chrysty laughed, her tone turning eager. He always hated how Jurianna tried to dress me up like a fragile doll.
By 5:30 PM, I was fully assembled. The navy suit fit like armor, complemented by a slicked-back hairstyle, minimalist gold earrings, and a dark lip shade. I grabbed the Samsung phone off the vanity, its screen lighting up with a fresh text message from an unlisted number:
Jurianna:Chrysty babe! Are you wearing the neon dress I chose? Can't wait to see you at the banquet hall! xoxo
I sneered at the glass screen, typing a rapid response with one thumb.
Chrystlene:See you soon, Jurianna. Prepare for a surprise.
Leaving the mansion, Lailac held open the door to a sleek, pitch-black sedan. The cool blast of the car's internal climate control washed over me as I settled into the leather backseat.
"To the EL Estate Grand Ballroom," I instructed the driver.
Are you ready, General? Chrysty asked, appearing in the passenger seat of my mind.
I tapped the edge of the glass phone against my knee, watching the city lights blur past the window like distant artillery fire.
"I've led cavalry charges into artillery fire, Chrysty," I replied with a cold smirk. "A room full of greedy socialites isn't a threat. It's an target-rich environment."