The council chamber was stifling that afternoon, heavy with the scent of polished wood, waxed uniforms, and unspoken rivalries.
Kane and Arasha stood before a long, curved table lined with commanders from every corner of the alliance—faces carved with suspicion, pride, or weary determination.
And then General Alexis rose.
Tall, sharp-featured, and disarmingly charismatic, the young commander's voice carried with effortless precision, each word deliberately measured.
"Tell me, Commander Arasha, Commander Kane—how are we to be certain your strategies, tactics, and formations are the only ones worthy of adoption for rift combat? I have studied the records. You have incorporated precious little from other nations' methods. Should we then conclude,"—his eyes gleamed—"that this alliance is merely a stage to display your kingdom's military might?"
The words were as smooth as they were barbed.
A few heads turned toward Kane and Arasha, some expectant, others already half-convinced by Alexis's insinuation.
Kane's jaw tightened; Arasha's calm mask did not crack, but her gaze sharpened.
They did agree in principle—diversity in tactics was important—but the young general's tone dripped with accusation, the undercurrent far more dangerous than the question itself.
Before either could reply, another figure rose from the far end of the table.
General Hiral.
The newly joined nation's representative was younger than most expected, his composure almost unnervingly steady. His voice was clear, carrying a different weight—less showmanship, more precision.
"General Alexis raises a valid point. But I would remind the council that Commander Arasha and Commander Kane have built this network in two months under unprecedented strain. The focus was never on excluding methods, but on standardizing what was proven effective against rift entities. To answer the concern—perhaps the real question is not whether their strategies are worthy, but how swiftly we can adapt ours without compromising the united front."
He stepped forward slightly, gaze fixed on Alexis.
"Your own nation's shield formations are renowned for countering heavy infantry charges. Impressive, yes—but a riftspawn's assault is not a disciplined advance. Their force patterns are chaotic, multi-directional. Without adaptive flanks—like those in the proposed formations—you would suffer severe casualties. I suspect you know this."
The tension in the chamber sharpened.
Alexis's eyes narrowed. Hiral's expression did not change. The two young generals locked gazes, the silence between them charged like drawn steel.
It was Alexis who looked away first.
Without a trace of triumph in his tone, Hiral inclined his head and turned back to the table.
"Now, perhaps we can continue with Commander Kane and Commander Arasha's proposal and refine it together—rather than tearing it apart."
Slowly, murmurs subsided. All eyes returned to Kane and Arasha.
They exchanged the barest glance—mutual acknowledgment. Both generals had left a deep impression: Alexis with his sharp challenge, Hiral with his precise deflection.
The meeting resumed, but the undercurrent in the room had shifted.
The council session finally adjourned, the heavy doors of the war chamber swinging shut behind the last of the delegates. The murmur of departing voices faded into the vaulted corridors of the palace.
Kane and Arasha walked side by side, their pace steady but their minds still caught in the taut lines of the confrontation.
Only when they reached the quiet of a side hall did Arasha stop, leaning slightly against a marble column.
Kane crossed his arms.
"Alexis," he began, "is the kind of man who could set an entire hall alight with just a sentence. Dangerous, because people will follow him even when he's wrong. Dominant, because he knows how to make his voice sound like the final word in any room."
Arasha's mouth quirked—not in amusement, but in recognition.
"And yet… we need him."
Kane's brows rose slightly.
"Need?"
She nodded, her gaze distant.
"That charisma can rally men and nations in a crisis. If we turn him into an enemy, his influence will fracture this alliance faster than any rift could. The challenge is keeping his fire aimed outward, not inward."
Kane exhaled slowly, conceding the point.
"Then there's Hiral. I expected a young commander from a newly joined nation to tread carefully, but he…"
"…stepped in like a blade sliding between two armored plates," Arasha finished for him. "Insightful. Tactful. And entirely unafraid of Alexis."
Kane glanced at her.
"You think he was defending us?"
She shook her head.
"Not us—the alliance. He's not reckless enough to attach himself to any one side, but he understands the cost of letting men like Alexis set the tone."
A brief silence passed between them, filled only by the muffled hum of palace life beyond the hall.
"Keep your eyes on them both," Arasha said finally. "One could sway the alliance with sheer force of presence. The other could reshape it without anyone realizing until it's done."
Kane gave a short nod, the unspoken weight of her words settling between them.
They resumed walking, their boots echoing softly—two commanders already recalculating the field of battle, not on the riftfront, but in the war rooms.
****
The palace's west wing was near-deserted at this hour, its long corridor stretching toward the library bathed only in shards of moonlight filtering through high arched windows.
The polished stone floor reflected the pale glow, giving the space a muted, dreamlike stillness.
Arasha moved silently along the shadows, intent on catching both General Alexis and General Hiral before they left for the night. She had planned to approach them separately, away from the ears of the other commanders, but voices ahead made her slow her steps.
Alexis leaned casually against a window frame, moonlight painting one side of his sharp features in silver.
Hiral stood opposite him, posture straight, expression unreadable.
Alexis: "You knew I was right back there." His tone was smooth, almost conversational, but the weight behind it was anything but casual. "So why side with Kane and Arasha? What's your real purpose?"
Hiral didn't answer at once. His gaze flicked to the moonlit floor between them, as though measuring the silence itself. Only after a moment did he lift his eyes to meet Alexis's.
Hiral: "You already heard my answer in the war council room. There's nothing more I wish to say."
The words were calm, but there was an undercurrent of steel beneath them.
Hiral took a step forward, closing the space between them by a fraction.
Hiral: "If we're questioning motives, General, perhaps it's yours we should examine. What good is it to rile up commanders against Arasha and Kane, when what we need most right now is a united front?"
Alexis's lips curved into a faint smirk.
Alexis: "I was… testing them."
Hiral's gaze sharpened, though his tone remained even.
Hiral: "Then test them all you wish. But understand—" he paused, his voice dropping into something almost dangerous, "—I'm equally free to test you, anytime. That would be fair."
For a moment, neither moved. The only sound was the faint whisper of the wind through the high windows. Then Alexis gave a small shrug, the smirk never leaving his face.
Alexis: "Fair enough."
He turned, walking past Arasha's hiding place in the shadows without even glancing at her—until, with deliberate casualness, he called out:
Alexis: "You shouldn't eavesdrop, Commander. It's unbecoming."
Arasha's pulse skipped, but she stepped out from her concealment with her usual composure, giving no sign of guilt.
Alexis's smirk widened before he disappeared around the corner, leaving the faint echo of his boots behind.
Hiral simply regarded her for a moment, the moonlight catching the edge of his expression—an unreadable mix of awareness and restraint—before he, too, moved on toward the library.