Everyone had given their opinions, dividing the council into two sides: the Viscount and the Baron on one, the Count, Gabriel, and Jihan Crowell on the other. This left only Diana to speak, and her words would decide the outcome of the council.
Diana spoke without partiality. Although she did not particularly like it, she still had to decide:
"In my view, the cavalry is the better choice compared to unproven beliefs."
Her judgment revealed the eye of a true strategist.
At last, words escaped Ivaan's lips:
"So, as everyone has given their testimony, the matter is settled, and the result is as I foresaw. We trust you will send your finest knights to join us from your houses, while the rest of the cavalry will ride at my side."
He ordered, "The meeting is concluded. You are free to leave. We depart in two days see that your men are prepared."
Before leaving the room, the Baron, Viscount, and Count exchanged brief glances while still seated in their places.
Some faces showed relief, while others seemed dissatisfied, yet none of it could change the decision that had been made. The sound of gloves brushing against chair handles and boots smack down across the floor followed as one by one they rose, leaving their seats empty.
This left only Gabriel, Diana, Ivaan, Irwin, and Jihan in the chamber, the light flickering across the walls. The moment grew tense when Ivaan suddenly spoke, asking the a fallen Duke to lead the front line of knights with him just as Gabriel was about to rise and leave like the others.
For Gabriel, it was a proud yet unexpected moment. A fallen duke, called to the front when more capable choices stood nearby Diana the strategist herself might have been the better option to stand at Ivaan's side.
Gabriel shifted uneasily before answering, his voice carrying both nerves and sincerity.
"I accept your choice," he said, bowing his head slightly. "And I thank you for granting me this honor."
That was what no one had expected. The decision struck Diana's pride like a silent blow. She might have been the natural choice to lead. Yet the chance was gone, stolen in an instant, and she could not refuse what had already been sealed.
Her eyes lowered only for a breath, hiding the flicker of disappointment, before she straightened again with quiet composure.
The chamber fell into a thoughtful silence, but Diana's mind had already raced ahead. Though the honor of leading the front had been given to Gabriel, the larger plan remained hers.
Her strategy was clear: Ivaan and Gabriel
With the count man would ride in the front row, commanding the charge.
She herself, alongside Jihan Crowell along with the knight selected by baron , would remain behind to direct the flow of troops, ensuring the formation did not break and the team send by viscount which was trained in healing divide into triplet one with front ,second on back and the last will wait at entrance.
Irwin, meanwhile, would stay at the estate to safeguard their lands in the absence of all others a necessary pillar of defense should misfortune strike while they were away.
This was Diana's design, sharp and steady, built not upon pride but upon necessity.
Ivaan gave a single nod of acknowledgment, his gaze sweeping across them all. Without another word, he turned and strode from the chamber, his cloak trailing behind him, leaving the others in the flickering glow of the hall's torches.
He didn't even ask Irwin to follow him. He walked alone through the corridor, where no one was waiting for him.
The sound of his boots was swallowed by the long carpet that covered every corner of the floor. A cold night breeze floated around him, carrying the flicker of golden lamps and the scent of green trees surrounding the tower.
He moved without knowing his destination, simply following the path that lay ahead.
After walking for several minutes, he reached the back of the tower, where a quiet garden lay bathed in moonlight. The full moon stood high above, silvering the damp leaves as if rain were about to fall. Fireflies drifted freely through the air, glowing like scattered embers in the night.
At the end of the garden, he stopped under the balcony. Far away stood the gazebo, its pillars weathered by time, wrapped with white rose vines. It stood between the pond, where fireflies glowed and the moonlight reflected on the water.
Ivaan took out a smoking pipe from his pocket, its surface etched with golden lines. Leaning against the pillar, he imagined the white roses before him turning into red ones. "If she were here, I wouldn't have to make these decisions," he whispered. "She always knew how to handle everything for us."
But the moment shattered when a shoe suddenly dropped on his head, knocking the pipe from his hand onto the ground.
Instead of picking up the half-burning pipe, he grabbed the shoe. Holding it in his hand, a twitch flickered in his eye, and a faint, angry smile curved his lips. "Who is this bastard with the courage to throw a shoe at me?" he muttered.
He looked upward, ready to see which fool was bold enough but his eyes widened in shock when, instead of an answer, a whole person came crashing down on him.
Ivaan's hands shot out, catching the falling figure before a heartbeat could pass.
For a moment, time seemed to stop; only the sound of water could be heard. Fireflies drifted around them, and the pipe's smoke curled into the air, making the scene feel like something out of a fantasy.
Ivaan blinked in confusion. "I've seen blood rain, I've seen cloudbursts but never a human falling from the sky."
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