But during Lilin's speech, she began to notice that her husband's facial expression was gradually changing. His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes were no longer looking at her, but had turned to a strange sideways glance.
His face became rigid, as if he couldn't hear a single word of what she was saying. His eyes turned to the left, focusing on something in the room, his ears listening to a sound she couldn't hear.
"Geoffrey?" she said in a hesitant tone. "What's wrong with you? What's the matter?"
He quickly raised his hand, a silent signal ordering her to be quiet. "Shhh..."
Lilin immediately fell silent, her heart beginning to beat rapidly. She looked at her husband with amazement and growing concern.
Geoffrey was now staring with intense concentration toward the western corner of the room, where the massive wooden wardrobe stood. His body was tense, his eyes unmoving, staring at the chest.
Silence crept into the room, with Lilin looking at her husband with growing concern, trying to understand what was happening.
Rustle... rustle
In the terrible silence, they heard a soft but clear sound, the sound of fabric rustling and moving, coming from inside the wooden chest.
In one moment, Geoffrey drew his sharp dagger from its leather sheath hanging on the belt of his pants thrown beside the bed.
He advanced with extreme caution toward the chest, each step calculated and quiet on the cold stone tiles. His wife followed him from behind, her heart pounding strongly, her hand gripping the edge of her silk robe to prevent it from rustling.
The sound repeated again, the rustling of fabrics, as if something or someone was hiding among the clothes piled in the chest.
Geoffrey reached the chest, stood directly in front of it, his dagger raised and ready to strike. A quick glance at his wife, then in a sudden and swift movement, he lifted the heavy wooden lid of the chest.
The scene that appeared before them was completely shocking, different from everything they had expected.
There, among piles of silk dresses and woolen coats and embroidered scarves, was their young son Gatthy hiding. His small face barely showed amid all those colorful women's clothes surrounding him from every side.
His mother's blue, red, and green dresses wrapped around his small body, her silk scarves hanging over his shoulders, and her elegant leather shoes scattered around his small feet.
A moment of complete silence dominated the room.
Geoffrey stood upright, his dagger still raised, his mouth open in complete amazement. Lilin behind him, her eyes wide, looking at her young son as if seeing him for the first time in her life.
Gatthy himself, a seven-year-old child, looked at his parents with large eyes full of fear and confusion, not understanding why they were staring at him in this astonished way.
A red silk dress of his mother's was wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak, an elegant leather shoe in one of his hands, and a strand of his brown hair stuck to his small forehead.
"Gatthy?" Lilin whispered in a choked voice, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
Lilin rushed toward her son with maternal instinct, while Geoffrey quickly moved his dagger aside, but it was too late. The small child's eyes had already seen the gleaming blade, and pure terror filled them.
Gatthy began to cry, his voice rising in the room.
"No! No! Mama!" he screamed in a sharp, high voice, a voice that carried a strange tone... clearly feminine.
Lilin hurried to carry her son, pulling him out from among the piles of clothes, but what she saw made her freeze in place. It wasn't just the child's hiding in the chest that was the real shock.
Gatthy was wearing his mother's women's clothing.
A light blue silk dress wrapped around his small body, the wide sleeves hanging from his thin arms. A colorful silk shawl was wrapped around his waist like an elegant belt, and a delicate gold bracelet, Lilin's precious bracelet, gleamed on his small wrist.
But it didn't stop there. A light feminine fragrance emanated from him, Lilin's perfume that carried the scent of jasmine and roses. His hair was arranged in a feminine way...
"Ahhh... ahhh... Mama... scared!" he continued crying, his voice rising and falling in a sharp, high tone, like the screaming of little girls.
His way of crying, the tone of his voice, even the way he wrapped his arms around his mother's neck, all carried clear feminine sensitivity and softness.
He moved with graceful, soft movements, raising his hand to his face in a delicate way, and turning his head shyly when he looked toward his father.
"Ahhh Gatthy..." Lilin whispered as she hugged her son to her chest, her voice full of confusion and worry. "What are you doing? What are you doing, my dear?"
At first, her primary fear was that the child had heard their intimate conversation, or perhaps seen them.
But now, a much greater fear began creeping into her heart. Fear for her son, for his future, for what this behavior meant.
As for Geoffrey, he stood there like a stone statue, staring at the scene before him with a mixture of despair, anger, and shame. His face was pale, his jaw clenched, his eyes wide with unbelievable shock.
"No..." he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. "This is not how men are born."
His fists were clenched, anger flowing in his veins like molten lava. He looked at his son... no, at this thing that bore his name and blood, with a look carrying disappointment and shame.
"I cannot be honored by a son like this, who behaves like females, who acts effeminate like whores," he thought to himself.
"The Montfort lineage that has ruled this clan for hundreds of years, a lineage of strong men, warriors, conquerors, protectors... and here is my son."
He looked at the child crying in his mother's arms, and remembered. This wasn't the first time. How many times had he found Gatthy playing with girls' dolls? How many times had he seen him trying to imitate women's way of walking? How many times had he heard him speak in a soft, delicate voice, asking about dresses and jewelry?
"This effeminate..." Geoffrey thought, bitterness filling his mouth. "He still continues with these acts, despite all the warnings, despite all attempts to correct him."
It was a painful truth. His only son, who was supposed to carry the Montfort name and lead the clan one day, was behaving like a little female...
After the soldiers dispersed and the commotion gradually calmed down, Julian stepped forward with confident strides toward the group standing in front of the command tent. Meran was beside him.
They stood before the three—Melissa, Marshaldo, and Sebastien.
"Good evening, gentlemen." Julian greeted with a clear voice, placing his fist on his chest in the traditional military salute.
Meran beside him did the same without uttering a word.
Melissa looked at him, with a faint smile on her lips that wasn't without sarcasm.
"So then, you're the ones responsible for this commotion."
Julian raised his eyebrows and laughed a short laugh.
"Commotion?" he replied while shaking his head. "We just arrived, Melissa. The real commotion is you leaving your battalion on a reconnaissance mission and showing up alone in camp before them."
Marshaldo intervened before Melissa could reply:
"Why did you arrive before them, Melissa?"
Melissa turned to him, with a slight glint of challenge in her eyes.
"I left them on another reconnaissance mission at the eastern passes. It was necessary to ensure the roads were safe."
Julian stared at his wife with his hazel eyes, and in his tone was something of suppressed concern.
"So, did you fill them in on the developments?"
"Yes." She answered briefly.
"And so?" Julian asked, as if wondering what they had decided to do.
Marshaldo cleared his throat and exchanged a quick glance with his advisor Sebastien before speaking:
"She told us about the presence of the Black Priests, but we don't want to spread panic among our soldiers. So we'll keep this matter secret among us, won't we?"
The five exchanged glances full of silent understanding. There was something of seriousness in Julian's eyes that hadn't been there before, while Meran nodded quietly, having understood the gravity of the situation.
"Of course." Julian replied firmly.
Marshaldo took a deep breath, looked directly at Melissa, and in his eyes was something of suppressed sadness.
"Are you insistent on your decision?"
"Yes." She answered without hesitation.
Julian looked between them with clear confusion.
"What decision? Did I miss something?"
Marshaldo looked at him with tired eyes.
"Melissa wants to exploit the path you discovered, which overlooks the northern side of the clan."
"How?" Julian asked in amazement.
Melissa interrupted him sharply:
"Julian, we have no other choice! They're losing everything here!"
She gestured toward the sprawling camp around them. "Look at this place... the soldiers are exhausted, supplies are running out, and morale is at rock bottom."
She paused for a moment to catch her breath, then continued:
"We'll establish a direct observation point behind the path we discovered inside the Sacred Forest. From there we can study the enemy completely and read their movements. And most importantly, we want to know their location... the Black Priests, where they're hiding within the clan."
Julian replied coldly, as if he didn't understand her intent:
"Yes, indeed we can establish... Meran and I and the others can set up the observation point there."
Melissa interrupted him with a more serious tone:
"I'm the battalion commander, Julian. And the decision is mine. We have no other choice, and I'm the one who must lead the Shah's battalion to that point."
She gripped her dagger's handle and stared directly into her husband's eyes:
"That area is very dangerous, it's the closest point to their northern camp. Any wrong move and you'll find yourselves surrounded by thousands of armed soldiers."
Her voice rose slightly, full of confidence and determination.
"I'm the only one capable of handling this situation."
"We don't have time to hesitate." She continued with a more urgent voice. "Supplies have run out from this camp, and they won't send us additional support. The kingdom is busy with more important fronts. We must finish this matter as quickly as possible."
Julian fell silent, and in his eyes was a look of absolute shock. He was staring at his wife in bewilderment.
"Wait." He said in a skeptical voice. "Did you just say that you want to establish the observation point yourself?"
"Yes." She answered steadily.
Julian raised his voice:
"Damn it, Melissa! You're pregnant!"
Everyone fell silent.
Melissa looked at him, with an expression on her face that no one could read.
"I know that." She said in a calm voice, but her words were strong. "But that doesn't change anything."
"It doesn't change anything?!" Julian shouted, anger and fear clearly visible on his face. "You're carrying our child! How can you expose yourself... expose our child to this danger?"
Melissa answered in a calmer voice, but it was full of hidden pain:
"Because this child will have no future if we don't win here. He won't have a kingdom to be born into, no land to walk on, no safe sky to sleep under."
She stepped closer to him, and in her eyes was something of the tenderness she hadn't shown before:
"Do you think I want to do this? Do you think I'm not afraid?" Her voice was trembling slightly, but it didn't lose its strength. "But this is what leadership means, Julian. To bear the burdens that no one else can bear."
Marshaldo intervened with a wise and tired voice:
"Melissa, there are other ways..."
She interrupted him firmly:
"There are no other ways. Look around you." She gestured toward the camp that looked more like sleeping quarters than a war camp. "This is all we have."
Julian looked into her eyes, and in his voice was something broken:
"Are you asking me to let you go to your death?"
She answered in a calm voice:
"I'm asking you to believe in me... as you believed in me before."
The silence that followed her words was heavy.
Julian slowly raised his hand, as if he wanted to touch her face, but his hand stopped halfway.
"This is madness, Melissa!... You're talking about infiltrating a camp that includes Black Priests? This isn't military tactics, this is suicide!"
Melissa didn't retreat, but it was clear she had expected this reaction and was prepared for it.
"Julian..." she began in a calmer voice, but he interrupted her more sharply:
"No! Don't try to convince me with your twisted logic!" He extended his hand toward her, but didn't touch her. "You're pregnant, Melissa!... How can you expose yourself... expose all of us to this?"
She stepped toward him and extended her hands to grasp his cold, trembling hands. She squeezed them gently, and in her touch was something of the tenderness she hadn't shown in front of others.
She looked at him with calm eyes, despite the chaos swirling around them.
And she whispered, with her voice full of confidence:
"Julian, this is the only solution. And you know that deep down. We have to go together. No one else can do this."
His jaw tightened, as if he was resisting a conviction creeping into his mind despite his will. He could see the determination in her eyes, that stubbornness he knew so well.
Everyone's eyes turned toward Marshaldo, waiting for his final word. For a long moment, he remained silent, his eyes moving between the couple, reading the pain in their faces. Then he let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes, as if carrying the weight of the decision on his shoulders.
When he opened his eyes again, there was something of anxiety and inevitability in his voice:
"In a situation like this, I don't have the right to refuse. We need every bold step... so be it, Melissa..."
Melissa didn't hesitate, but nodded her head, smiled, then turned and left, while the four exchanged glances without any of them moving... and left behind a man who was no longer sure whether he had agreed to her decision, or if she had simply left him no other choice.
And in his heart, he knew that this was exactly what Melissa always did.
Adrian was riding beside his companion Gilbert in the middle of a long column of horsemen, part of the massive support army that the Kingdom of Odalin had sent toward the Silver Valley camp. In the dead of night, there was nothing but the sound of horse hooves crushing the dry ground and the clanking of iron armor.
Around them, trees rose like towering dark columns, their branches intertwining above until they blocked the moonlight from them. From time to time, branch tips would touch the knights' helmets or scratch the edges of their armor.
Adrian wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his leather gauntlet. Dust clung to his young face, and the smell of horses and metal choked his nose. Behind them, the column stretched for miles, thousands of horsemen raising their long spears, from which hung the black banners of Odalin, centered with the emblem of the silver crescent moon pierced vertically by a nail driven through its heart, fluttering in the darkness of night.
"You know, I didn't believe it until I saw it with my own eyes."
"What do you mean?" Gilbert asked in a lazy tone, adjusting the position of his sword on his side.
"Commander Melissa Solaris..." Adrian said with some hesitation, then added, "I never thought I'd finally see her. I've heard so much about her, but finally... I'll be on the same battlefield with her!"
Gilbert smiled, but there was a cunning gleam in his eyes. He raised the leather water skin to his lips and drank a long sip before replying: "So?... What makes you so excited? Rookie."
Adrian swallowed his saliva, but couldn't stop himself from continuing: "She's not just a commander... she's a legend! Since we were young, we've heard about her heroics, about how she led battles against the Eastern Alliance, and about her role in the Shah's battalion!"
Gilbert nodded slowly, raising his gaze toward the dim stars barely visible between the intertwining branches. "So... you admire her?"
Adrian stiffened for a moment. "What? Of course not, I just..." He stopped, then sighed. "Alright, maybe, but every man in the kingdom feels admiration for her?"
Gilbert pulled on his black horse's reins when the animal stumbled in a small hole. "Oh, so you're not just admiring her... you're in love with her, aren't you?"
"What? Of course not!" Adrian replied quickly, but he felt the heat of his face betraying him. "I just respect her, she's... she's my role model! She's one of the few who possess the Left Flow."
Gilbert didn't reply, just gave him a long look, then said quietly: "Don't change the subject! You know she's married, right?"
Adrian froze. The shock was clear on his features as if something inside him had collapsed. "Married? To whom? To that man-like creature!"
"What, are you jealous now or what, rookie?"
"Really Gilbert, couldn't the commander find a man to marry other than Julian?"
Gilbert was silent for a moment, examining Adrian with half-closed eyes. "And what's it to you? She loves him..."
"Loves him? Hah... if she had at least married one of the commanders, what's exciting about a man who has Forward Flow?"
Gilbert looked at him from the corner of his eye before replying: "Then tell her that when we arrive!"
Just as Adrian was about to reply, a sudden voice pierced through them from behind!
"What's the matter?"
Adrian's heart stopped for a moment. The voice was calm, familiar. He felt his blood freeze in his veins. "Damn! Is it one of them?... The commanders!" he wondered in the darkness of his mind. "No, this is impossible... was he watching us?"
He turned slowly, as if his neck was made of heavy iron. Behind him, a few meters away, he found the deputy commander, Sir Garin, staring at them.
He was a man in his late forties, clean-shaven, with deep wrinkles carving his dark face, exhausted from years of long battles. His dark hair streaked with white strands was graying only at the edges and carefully tied behind his head. His steady eyes examined Adrian's face, which had completely paled.
A gleaming black armor adorned his chest, decorated with the emblem of the interlocking moon and crescent, and a broad heavy sword hung on his left side.
Adrian felt a chill creep up his spine and swallowed with difficulty. "Why... why is he looking at me like that? Did he hear something? Was he behind us the whole time?"
He tried to control his facial expressions, but tension overwhelmed him. "Calm down... think rationally... just a coincidence, right?"
Gilbert intervened quickly, shaking his horse's reins and saying with a playful smile: "Nothing, sir. Just talking about how wonderful it is to fight alongside Commander Melissa."
Sir Garin looked at them in complete silence, his eyes moving between the two young men like a sharp blade. The corners of his lips curved in a cold smile that carried no warmth.
"Really?"
He said in a rough voice.
"And what exactly were you saying about her husband?"
The blood froze in Adrian's veins. "He heard everything!" his mind screamed in silent terror.
Gilbert tried to maintain his composure, but even his voice trembled slightly: "Sir, we were just talking about..."
Sir Garin interrupted him, whispering: "Be careful, Adrian!... This news will reach your brother."
He turned his horse calmly and moved toward the front of the army.
The mask completely fell from Adrian's face. He paled until he looked like the dead, and his hands began trembling on his horse's reins.
He didn't move until Sir Garin was far enough away. Then he turned to Gilbert with wide eyes filled with panic: "Damn, he heard our conversation!"
Gilbert smiled a wide smile full of malicious glee: "He'll tell your brother about it too."
"Damn!" His voice rose higher than necessary before he quickly lowered it. "Do you know what this means? My brother will kill me! Literally kill me!"
"Oh... come on, it can't be that bad," Gilbert replied while coughing, trying to hide his laughter.
"That bad?" Adrian turned to him with bloodshot eyes.
"My brother is an advisor in the Royal Guard! He has the authority to court-martial me just for speaking badly about any commander! And now I've criticized Commander Melissa and her husband!"