The air inside the strategy room was… heavy.
Not the kind of heavy that came from the weight of stone walls or stale air, but the kind where words were kept on leashes and everyone in the room knew they were one wrong sentence away from snapping.
Kallen stood on one side of the large round table, her expression calm but her fingers drumming against the wood. Otto was opposite her, arms crossed so tightly they might as well have been chained there. Chris leaned slightly forward, both hands planted firmly on the table, his flat stare moving between the two like a pendulum.
Kiana… had no idea what she was doing here.
But she was sitting beside Kallen, trying to mimic her posture and looking around like she was supposed to be doing something important. She kept her lips pressed shut, afraid to break the strange tension filling the room.
The place was oddly pristine for something that clearly hadn't been used in a long time. The walls were lined with banners — faded from age but spotless. The air smelled faintly of polish. A massive chandelier hung above, dust clinging to its chains, and the table between them looked almost brand new despite the thin, untouched layer of dust along its edges.
Her gaze drifted to the map sprawled across the table. At first, she tilted her head in interest… then her eyebrows slowly furrowed.
One city.
A giant city, in the center of the map.
A couple of towns scattered near it, like crumbs around bread.
And then… nothing. Just vast swathes of forest that went on and on until the edges of the parchment curled.
"… wait, is this—" she started to mumble to herself, but her train of thought derailed when Chris exhaled through his nose and straightened.
"It's decided, then," he said in that low rumble of his, not looking at her.
Kallen smiled faintly and nodded once.
Otto merely shrugged.
Kiana blinked. "Eh? … Eh? … Ehhhhhh??"
No one answered her.
The scene cut like a page turning in a book, and suddenly she was walking down a dirt road with Kallen and Chris, flanked by a small group of armored guards whose polished pauldrons gleamed under the cloudy sky.
She jogged a little to keep up with Kallen. "Sooo… why are we going somewhere again? I thought the capital was all perfect and, y'know, happy-happy?"
Kallen turned her head with a soft smile. "A town near the border has been in dispute with its neighbor. We're going to help settle the matter peacefully."
Behind them, Chris groaned under his breath — an exhausted, long-suffering sound. "If they call that a dispute, then pigs must be flying over the capital right now."
Kiana tilted her head at him. "That bad?"
"It's annoying," he replied flatly, his tone almost offended. "Same old border nonsense. As if shifting a fence three meters changes the world."
The road opened up into a broad clearing. On one side, a group of townsfolk in practical leather garb stood with straight backs and confident postures. On the other… well, the "other" didn't look so good. Ragged clothes. Worn shoes. Faces pinched with fatigue.
Kiana immediately noticed how much better-fed and better-equipped the border-town people were. The difference was obvious — like night and day. The confident side stood in tight formation, arms crossed, eyes sharp. The other side shuffled nervously, their eyes darting between the newcomers and the well-off rivals.
The two groups were separated by a stretch of trampled grass, as if they'd been pacing and waiting for someone to give them permission to yell at each other.
Chris muttered something under his breath about "children squabbling over scraps," while Kallen simply stepped forward with that calm, steady smile of hers.
Kiana lingered behind her, eyes darting between the sides, her brow knitting.
Something about this didn't feel like a simple "border dispute."
The guards spread out to the sides, their armor clinking softly as they formed a loose perimeter. The crowd parted just enough for Kallen to walk between them. Even without raising her voice, everyone's attention locked on her instantly.
Chris stayed back, arms folded, watching. Otto… was nowhere to be seen, which for some reason made Kiana feel more uneasy.
She caught herself rubbing the back of her neck.
"… Yeah," she mumbled under her breath, "this doesn't feel like it's just about fences."
Kallen stepped into the open space between the two towns, her boots crunching softly on the flattened grass. She raised her hands in a calming gesture, her voice steady and clear.
"My name is Kallen Kaslana. I am here on behalf of the capital to mediate this dispute," she began, her tone even and unhurried. "I would like to hear, from both sides, what the matter is."
The border town's leader, a broad-shouldered man with the posture of someone used to winning arguments, spoke first. "They've been trespassing into our grasslands. Picking fruit from our orchards. They think we don't notice, but we do." His voice was firm, clipped — and there was no doubt he believed his side to be in the right.
From the other group, a gaunt woman stepped forward, her clothes worn thin, her arms trembling — though whether from hunger or anger, Kiana couldn't tell. "We had to. Our harvest failed. The river dried up last season. If we don't take something, our children will starve."
The first man scoffed. "So you steal from us? That's your solution?"
"It's survival!" the woman shot back, her voice cracking. "We take only what we need to keep from dying—"
"That's selfish," another from the border town cut in sharply.
The word hit like a spark in dry grass. Soon both sides were spitting accusations — "parasites," "thieves," "heartless bastards," "leeches." The volume rose with every passing second, voices overlapping, jabbing fingers pointing across the clearing.
Kallen tried to raise her voice. "Please—if you would all just—"
No one listened.
Her calm expression tightened just slightly at the corners. She stepped forward again, opening her mouth to speak—
—when a man from the struggling town suddenly lunged. His fist swung toward her face, fueled by desperation and fury.
Kiana's eyes went wide. "Kallen—!"
But Kallen didn't even flinch. She didn't need to.
Chris was already moving.
He intercepted the man mid-swing, one massive hand snapping around his arm. And then, with the casual precision of someone who'd done this before, he squeezed.
The sickening crack of bone split through the air. The man screamed — a raw, guttural sound — and crumpled to his knees, clutching his ruined arm.
Kiana's stomach lurched.
What startled her more was that the border-town people didn't even flinch. Some even nodded, as though this was simply the natural order of things.
Chris spoke over the man's sobbing as if it were background noise.
"We cannot spare resources to those not part of our community. If you wish to partake with us, then you must join us." His tone was cold, matter-of-fact, final.
Kallen's lips pressed together. Slowly, she stepped back, her hands falling to her sides. Her eyes slid toward the faces of the struggling townsfolk — the fear etched there, the way they clutched their children closer. Her voice was quieter now, almost… tired.
"Please," she said softly, "make the right choice. We all need to be together in these trying times."
The two sides stood in tense silence. The man with the broken arm whimpered into the dirt.
Kiana's gaze darted between Chris, Kallen, and the crowd. Her chest felt tight. Something about this was wrong. The utopia she'd been walking through suddenly seemed… less certain.
Viktor sat with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on Chris. After a long, weighted silence, he turned his head and caught Chris's gaze.
Chris looked back at him, unblinking.
No words were spoken, but it was like the two were pushing at each other without moving — a silent exchange layered with things no one else in the room could read.