Dyan approached the table with measured steps. "With your permission, Commander," he said, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs.
Faria observed him with a blank expression. "I believe you already know Captain Lena Caldrim, from the northern forces."
Dyan's heart suddenly tensed. He looked up and there she was: Lena, seated across from him. Their eyes met for barely an instant, before she looked away toward the table. She seemed unharmed, and for a moment he felt relief. But her indifference tightened his stomach like an invisible fist.
"That's right, Commander," he replied, trying not to let his voice betray his inner trembling. "We've met."
Faria continued with a gesture. "Next to her, Captain Rildan Bolden, in command of the knights. Beside him, Shion Paltem, Captain of the Fort's defense. Here, Volka von Helbrandis, leader of the Shalmak mages, whom you surely remember. And speaking to you, Faria Jaram, Commander of the West."
Dyan's gaze swept over those present. The only friendly gesture came from Volka, to his surprise, who greeted him with a slight wave of her hand.
"I've heard the rumors about your participation in the north," Faria said in a harsh voice. "I hope you don't believe that all enemies behave the same. Here, captains follow orders. They don't improvise or do as they please. Do you understand?"
Dyan frowned. "And how has that strategy worked out for you, Commander?" he asked, without hiding the irony. "I don't see any victory celebrations."
A cold smile crossed Faria's lips. "You may have the queen's approval, but here, I'm in charge." She took out a letter with the royal seal and placed it on the table with a dry thud. "I've been ordered to treat you as a captain. But I'm not yet convinced that you are one."
The young mage stood up with a swift movement. The chair screeched as it scraped against the wooden floor. "Then I'll wait for your orders with my comrades. I come in the name of Scabia... but, above all, for the glory of Her Majesty." His eyes swept over those present, one by one. "With your permission."
"Wait!" Lena's voice cut through the air, more abruptly than she herself seemed to intend.
Dyan turned to her, hopeful, but the captain had already lowered her gaze, as if she had never spoken. What could have been a mistake, an impulse, pierced him like a bitter pang.
He turned his gaze back to Faria. The commander didn't even blink. "Let's pretend nothing happened," Dyan said in a tense voice, sitting back down.
"Fine," Faria snorted.
"Can we get back to what's important?" Volka intervened, tapping the table with her index finger as if driving in an invisible dagger. Her fiery gaze was directed at Rildan. "How is it possible that a mage ended up sacrificing himself to save a unit of knights? Mages should be protected, not used as bait!"
"We've already discussed this," Faria intervened, tired. "It was a heroic act."
"That's what they say," Volka spat, her finger still dug into the wood. "But I myself warned them to fall back if the situation was dangerous. A mage is worth a hundred knights. You don't just give one away like that."
Rildan slammed his palm on the table. "Are you accusing my men of cowardice?"
"I'll say it to your face: if it weren't for us, you'd all be buried already." Volka pierced him with her gaze. "I'm not going to risk another mage for yours; they're a danger to my people."
"Gentlemen..." Shion tried to mediate, pouring a cup of watered-down wine and pushing it toward Volka. "Let's not look for blame. We need cool heads, not more squabbles."
Volka drank it in one gulp and threw the empty cup onto the table. "I'll say things as they are: your men are poorly trained. They break formation in the middle of combat, and when that happens, a mage pays with his life."
"Enough!" Faria's voice imposed itself harshly. "Recriminations won't bring the dead back."
Volka looked away, but did not yield. "I'm only still here because I still have some confidence in some. But I will not put my men behind yours again."
Dyan watched in silence, with a barely perceptible smile. Volka's impulsiveness brought back uncomfortable... and endearing memories. At least she was still the same. He looked for Lena, but she made an effort to avoid his gaze.
Faria sighed, bringing a hand to her forehead, pretending to brush away a few strands of hair. "Fine, as you wish." She continued in a tired voice. "We haven't gotten clear numbers on the enemy. We can only reinforce our defenses and await the blow." She pushed the parchments away with a weary gesture. "Shion, prepare the wall. Volka, check the defense stone: we need it in optimal shape when they arrive."
"The crystal is at half capacity. We won't be able to replenish it in a day, unless we all work together."
"I'll take care of it." Dyan's voice rose for the first time with firmness. Everyone looked at him. "The last time I was here, I helped my master repair the stone. I can do it alone."
Volka narrowed her eyes, evaluating him. If someone else had said the same thing, she would have called him crazy. Finally, she nodded. "Good. But if you need help, count on me."
"Thank you," he replied.
"The rest of you, prepare the front line," Faria ordered. "I want everything ready. We don't know when those wretches will come down on us, so redouble the night watch."
Rildan and Lena nodded in silence.
"For now, you are free."
The captains stood up, the sound of chairs scraping against the wood filling the hall.
"Dyan... stay for a moment." Faria's voice stopped him.
The mage froze in his tracks; the rest of the captains passed by him, all a bit crestfallen. As the door closed behind the others and the footsteps faded in the corridor, the smoke from the brazier seemed denser in the silence.
When they were at a distance, she finally spoke. "Tell me, Commander." he replied, cautiously.
"It seems His Majesty holds you in high esteem." Faria's voice echoed in the empty hall, more grave in the stillness.
"To have her appreciation is a blessing I don't deserve... but that I gladly receive," Dyan replied, standing halfway between the table and the exit, his profile hardened by the shadows of the brazier.
Faria observed him in silence before continuing.
"Captain Lena told me the truth of your... feats."
Dyan's heart skipped a beat.
"The truth? What is the truth?" His tone was firm, but the echo returned an imperceptible tremble.
The commander gestured for him to sit, although he did not move.
"I've been told you are dangerous. A risk to those who fight by your side."
"Did Lena say that about me?" The coldness of his own voice surprised him. Behind it, however, an invisible tension stirred, the fear of hearing the answer.
"That's right. Why are you surprised?"
Dyan didn't answer. His breathing became heavier, as if holding the air had become an impossible burden. His lips moistened, trembling barely.
Faria interlaced her fingers on the table.
"I've read the reports. They're surprising, so much that they seem like a scribe's delirium. The captain just helped me ground them. So you tell me: did you really kill ten thousand people?"
"Would you have preferred that I hadn't?" Dyan retorted, trying to loosen the knot that had closed in his throat.
Faria's weathered face did not change.
"I'm concerned that you are a danger to your own. Mages, where I come from, are unstable weapons. If you lose control, you won't be the only one to bleed. My men will be out there with you." She pointed to the bandage on Dyan's hand, her gaze as hard as stone. "What you did to yourself, you could do to anyone."
"Did she also tell you that I saved her life?" he asked, his voice cracking with a hint of contained rage.
"She mentioned it. But with time, emotions settle, and we see everything more clearly." Faria stood up slowly. Her armor creaked like a premonition, filling the air with the scrape of steel. She took a step toward him, her eyes burning like contained embers. "I'll be watching you, Dyan Halvest."
The young mage remained motionless, in silence, until the commander left the hall and the door closed behind her. For an instant, doubt germinated within him like a dark root. But he ripped it out immediately. He had done what he had to do, he had given everything when it was necessary. He preferred to cling to that certainty rather than let himself be dragged by the shadow of distrust. He preferred to keep, deep inside, the words Lena told him when they said goodbye that last time.