"Everyone out."
Konor's voice didn't boom, it cut. No longer smooth, no longer laced with charm. Something brittle had cracked underneath. The highlanders didn't argue. They filed out in tense silence as they passed Aldrich without a glance. In moments, only four remained. Konor, Aldrich, Alan, and Shaun.
Konor didn't move right away. He let the silence breathe, settling back into himself like a serpent coiling in its den. Then he spoke, voice once again calm, too calm.
"My Deacon told me the Karssius family would send someone… unknown this year." His eyes flicked toward Alan. "Looks like he was right."
Alan tilted his head. "You believe me so easily? For all you know, I could be lying."
Konor snorted. "Only a madman impersonates a Great. That's not just suicide, it's slow and painful." He gave a small shrug. "You're either very stupid or exactly who you say you are."
"I suppose you're right." Alan replied coolly.
Aldrich stood still, his jaw clenched. The pieces hadn't stopped falling into place, and he hated the shape they were forming. Alan was not just a highlander, he was a Great. His brain buzzed with thoughts he couldn't untangle. All he knew was the heat crawling in his chest.
Konor turned back to Alan, the predator's grin never quite reaching his eyes. "You're strong. You carry yourself like someone used to command. So tell me, what position do you want in my army?"
"In your army?" Alan raised a brow as he followed Konor's gesture toward a rough wooden stool. He didn't sit.
"Ah," Konor said, eyes narrowing. "Of course. Do not see it as serving me, think of it as a partnership."
"I do not care to join your army." Alan's voice was casual, but his posture wasn't. He looked like a spring wound tight. "I don't plan on staying."
Konor frowned, barely. A flicker of something crossed his face. Not disappointment. Relief.
"Leaving? With the sylvariths almost upon us?" He tilted his head, letting concern play across his face like a mask. "Seems unwise."
Alan wasn't buying it. "That's exactly why we're leaving."
We.
The word landed heavy. Konor's eyes snapped to Aldrich, and for a split second, the mask cracked. A scowl. Ugly and fast. He covered it with a grin that showed too many teeth.
"You surprise me," Konor said. "Nobles don't usually befriend the gutterborn. It's... humbling."
Alan didn't flinch. His voice came cold and clean. "And what makes him beneath me?"
The air went still.
Shaun's eyes flicked toward Konor, curious. Waiting. Konor's smile didn't move, but something behind it had changed. Tightened.
"Well," Konor said, voice smooth again, but quieter now. "That depends on how much truth you're willing to see."
Alan didn't answer right away. He stood still, arms crossed, eyes locked on Konor like he was trying to decide whether the man was worth speaking to at all. Aldrich could feel the weight between them.
"I asked you a question," Alan said at last. His voice was soft. Dangerous.
Konor chuckled. "And I gave you an answer. Just not out loud."
He circled slowly toward them, hands clasped behind his back. His voice took on that familiar edge, polished like glass but sharp underneath.
"I do not admire you, Alan. Truly.
They say The Karssius are as ruthless as they are humble. It's not rare amongst your your family to try and water down the very status the greats carry. It has happened too many times across history. But let's not pretend. This boy," he nodded toward Aldrich, "he's Lowlands stock. Not even your father would approve of you dragging around a lump of slag like him?"
Alan didn't blink.
Konor kept going. "Maybe he reminds you of a dog you had once. Loyal. Scrappy. But we both know how that story ends."
Aldrich's fists clenched. His ears burned. Every syllable hit harder than it should've. He didn't care what Konor thought, but hearing it out loud, from Alan's mouth, would've broken something. He glanced at Alan. Waiting. Needing to know.
Alan didn't hesitate.
His fist slammed into Konor's jaw with a crack like a bone snapping. The Highlander reeled back, stumbling into the stool, lip already splitting, blood painting his chin.
Shaun flinched.
Aldrich froze.
"Say something like that again," Alan said, voice low and steady, "and I'll break your damn jaw in two."
Konor staggered upright, one hand to his mouth, the other reaching for his sword.
Alan didn't flinch. "Do it. Let the great Konor of House Darkous draw steel against another noble in front of a witness." He tilted his head at Shaun, who stood still, caught between fear and thrill.
Konor's fingers twitched... then dropped.
Alan turned to Aldrich. "We're done here. You and me, we're leaving. We don't owe this place anything."
Aldrich blinked. "Wait, you mean now?"
"Yes. Now." Alan stepped toward the tent's flap,
He looked back at Konor one last time. "Enjoy licking your own blood."
Then he stepped out.
Aldrich gave Konor a long, cold stare, and then he followed.
Behind them, Konor stood in silence, one hand cupped under his split lip, blood dripping slow onto the tent floor.
He didn't shout.
Didn't call them back.
But the fury in his eyes burned hot enough to melt steel.
Aldrich and Alan stormed away from the command tent, boots pounding through dust and tension. They didn't speak for a stretch, just the crunch of their steps and the distant murmur of the camp behind them.
Then Alan grabbed Aldrich by the shoulder, firm. "We can't stay here longer."
Aldrich turned, still riding the adrenaline. "I know. But first, I have to get to my squad. If I'm running, I'm not leaving them to die when the sylvariths come."
Alan nodded. "Same here. I'll try mine too. Meet at the gate at twenty."
Aldrich nodded once. Then they split, vanishing in opposite directions through the maze of tents.
His tent wasn't far, but it felt like a lifetime crossing the camp. Inside, the air was thick with silence. Some were hunched over makeshift cots, others cleaning gear, eyes dull. They looked like survivors. They looked like people who knew something worse was coming.
But when Aldrich pushed through the flap, they all straightened.
"Where the hell have you been, man?" Fat Bondo asked, brows drawn together over his round face. His frame shifted with frustration.
Aldrich didn't waste time. "Command tent."
Kartika's eyes narrowed. "Wait. What?"
"We don't have time for this," Aldrich said, voice cutting through the rising questions. "Listen. I'm leaving the camp. My friend and I, we're not waiting for the sylvariths to show up and butcher us. I came to tell you. If you want to come, now's the time."
The silence was instant. Heavy.
"Leaving?" Haku asked. "To where?"
"We're going to search for the others. Julia. Maybe the remaining squads. Anyone left out there." Aldrich turned toward Haku, locking eyes.
"Who are these people?" Bard asked from the back, cradling his arm, now wrapped tight in a clean cloth.
"Friends," Aldrich said. "Allies. I'll explain later. Right now, we have to move."
"Hold on." Hokon's voice cut in. He was pacing near the back, rubbing his temple. "We were supposed to submit our report. Explain how we lost the captain. Now you want us to desert?"
"I gave the report," Aldrich growled. "It didn't matter. None of it did. They did not care. They do not see the dangers the sylvariths bring, and to be honest, I am tired of ringing it to everybody."
"You're exaggerating," Sloan muttered from where he sat, sharpening his blade. "We were ambushed. And still, we brought them down, did we not?"
Aldrich's face twisted, his voice rising. "You think that was a win? I stood in that briefing, Sloan. I listened to them talk numbers. They don't have a plan. They don't even have bodies. What we encountered at Latip were simply scouts. The ones coming are going to be way different."
He paused, letting the silence breathe.
"They're not soldiers. They're monsters. And this army?" He motioned to the camp. "We're not ready. Not even close."
That shut everyone up.
The silence that followed wasn't one of peace, it was indecision, splintered trust, and fear wrapped in a single, shared breath.
Then Haku stepped forward.
"I'll come with you." His voice was steady, eyes calm. He clapped Aldrich on the shoulder, and Aldrich pulled him into a quick embrace. One down.
Hokon was next. "I always hated military camps anyway." He muttered, dragging his sword from where it leaned. "If we die out there, it won't be under someone else's orders."
Kartika followed, wordless, but his jaw was set like stone. Then, surprisingly, Sinor.
He stood, quiet as always, and moved to Aldrich's side.
"You sure?" Aldrich asked him.
Sinor gave a short nod. "You're not wrong."
The others stayed seated. Bondo wouldn't meet his eyes. Sloan looked down at his blade. Bard just exhaled and turned away.
Aldrich took it for what it was. He gave them a nod.
"I hope I'm wrong. I hope you make it."
Then he turned and walked out with the four who'd chosen otherwise.
They reached the camp gates just as the last light began to dim behind the walls of tents. Alan stood alone beneath the arch, sword slung over his back, posture straight but stiff.
"No one?" Aldrich asked.
Alan shrugged once. "They've made their bed."
Aldrich didn't press. They didn't have time.
Alan glanced at the others. "Five? That's better than I expected."
"Where are we headed?" Haku asked, adjusting the strap on his bag.
Aldrich looked out into the darkening dunes beyond the camp. The wind kicked up dust, whispering like ghosts.
"The Bane Dunes," he said.