Cedric Devon was sitting on the edge of one of the worn-out rugs, in the far corner of the tent.
His fingers fiddled nervously with the hilt of his dagger, and his eyes kept shifting toward the tent's entrance then back to the ground. Sweat poured from his forehead despite the cold night breeze entering through the fabric slits, carrying something unseen... something in its scent and taste that suggested darkness.
And he was biting his lower lip until it nearly bled.
With every beat in his chest, he felt there was something in the air... heavy, stagnant, condensing over his lungs.
He didn't know what it was.
But inside, he felt it.
That this night... was not an ordinary night.
There was something wrong.
Even outside the tent, an owl screeched a long cry, as if warning of impending doom.
But all of this was only inside him.
"Come on, Cedric, drink with us!" shouted one of his comrades, the soldier Rogar, raising his cup high. "I haven't seen you take a single sip in a week!"
Another soldier named Bern turned to him and smirked slyly: "Maybe he's thinking about something else... or rather, someone else." The men around them laughed, and Bern added in an audible voice: "Did you hear that Commander Melissa is going to lead the Shah's battalion on a reconnaissance mission?"
"They're just waiting for the Moon Council's approval."
The soldiers' eyes lit up with excitement at the mention of that name. Rogar said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand: "Ah, that woman... by God, I've never seen a woman like her in my life. Her eyes cut a man down with a single glance!"
"And her figure..." murmured a third soldier, waving his hands in the air, "like she's carved from the finest marble in the king's palaces. But the power that radiates from her... oh Lord!"
Cedric's grip on his dagger tightened, and his knuckles began to whiten. He said in a muffled voice, trying to hide the jealousy devouring his chest: "She's a battalion commander, not a toy for you to talk about like that."
Bern laughed loudly: "Oh, look! Cedric's defending his lady!" He looked at him with mocking eyes: "Tell me, my friend, how many times have you spoken to her? Haha."
Cedric's face paled, and he tried to find words to retort, but his tongue froze in his mouth. Everyone knew the truth—Cedric Devon, the brave soldier who didn't fear facing ten men in battle, trembled at the mere thought of looking directly into Melissa's eyes.
But neither he nor any other man in the kingdom could get close to her.
"Exactly what I expected," said Rogar, shaking his head, "Don't blame him, friends. Melissa isn't like the kingdom's women who submit to men. She's different, a leader... I heard about her last battle on the eastern front; she fought like the devil himself. Her sword, the great Silicon Sword, moves faster than lightning; she possesses the Left Flow, that's enough to make her the strongest fighter in our army..."
"And yet," added Bern in a dreamy tone, "when she walks, the sway of her hips reminds you that she's a woman... a woman without equal."
Their laughter grew louder.
Meanwhile, Cedric was on the verge of exploding from jealousy. His heart pounded violently, and his imagination soared far away toward that woman who had inhabited his dreams night and day. How many times had he imagined himself standing before her, confessing his love, fighting by her side? How many times had he woken up in the night, sweat pouring from him after a long dream about her? But reality was harsh; he didn't even have the means to join the Shah's battalion in the first place, and even if he did, he wouldn't dare stand in the same rank as her during military gatherings.
Suddenly, the soldiers' laughter cut off and turned into faint murmurs. Cedric raised his head, and his heart nearly stopped beating.
Melissa entered the tent.
She was wearing her black leather military attire that hugged her lithe body. Behind her entered her husband Julian, and after him, Meran.
Cedric felt a wave of heat sweep through his body. Sweat began pouring from every pore in his skin immediately, and he hunched behind his comrades' bodies, trying to hide.
His eyes stole quick glances toward her, and every time they met her beautiful form, he felt dizziness overtake him.
He felt something inside him closing.
As if a door that had been ajar for a while was now shut tight.
This was the same face...
The face he had seen in the dream.
The face he was told, when you see it on that evening, know that the hour has struck, and the time has come.
To carry out what you were commanded...
The trio stopped near a group of soldiers positioned in the center of the tent. Julian raised his hand in salute and said in his booming voice: "Good evening, men. How's it going here?"
The soldiers hurried to stand in salute to Melissa, and one of them said enthusiastically: "Good evening, Commander! You've honored our humble tent."
Melissa smiled faintly and waved her hand: "Sit down, no need for formalities here. We're all soldiers in the same army."
The trio sat on one of the rugs, and Julian took a cup of wine. He said in a cheerful voice: "It's been a long day, hasn't it? The morning drills were exhausting."
Meran nodded as he drank from his cup: "True, but the men need to stay in top shape. The upcoming battles won't be easy."
"I see their condition is good now." Melissa said as she took a general look around the tent.
Then, the soldiers noticed her feet, and for the first time, they observed her shoes in greater detail. She was wearing elegant noble-style leather sandals, made from luxurious brown leather and crafted with care.
The sandals were open at the top, revealing most of her pink, smooth feet, while thin leather straps wrapped around her ankles and climbed a little up her calves, highlighting the delicacy of her ankle bones and the softness of her skin.
Everyone could see her small, beautiful toes, lined up like pearls, as she fidgeted her toes restlessly inside the sandals.
In the opposite corner, one of the soldiers' saliva began to drip down his chin without him realizing. His eyes were fixed on Melissa's pink, smooth foot, and his lips were slightly parted. He whispered to his comrade beside him: "Oh God... look, even her feet are beautiful."
Melissa didn't notice the hungry stares around her, as she was occupied in her conversation with Julian and Meran.
Suddenly, Cedric stood up with a abrupt movement that made his comrades look at him in surprise.
"What's gotten into you, Cedric?" Rogar said, smiling.
Meanwhile, Cedric remained standing frozen in place, but he had resolved to eliminate all the terror that had been tearing him apart from within.
Then he stepped away from his companions, heading toward Melissa's table, his heart nearly bursting from fear.
Every eye in the tent turned to him, and murmurs began to spread.
"What is Cedric Devon doing? Where is he heading?"
"Wait... he's heading toward the commander, toward Melissa!"
When he reached their table, he stopped directly in front of Melissa.
Who was sitting looking at him with wide eyes of amazement, while Julian and Meran stared at him as if he were a ghost risen from the grave.
Silence dominated the entire tent.
Cedric looked into Melissa's eyes for the first time in his life without averting his gaze. Everything he had imagined about her was nothing compared to her true beauty up close.
Without uttering a word, he pushed his cloak aside and drew a long, darkly gleaming sword from its sheath.
With eerie calm, he placed it on the wooden table in front of Melissa, slowly, until the blade settled between them.
The voices in the tent fell silent all at once. No one dared to breathe.
Every man present immediately understood the meaning of this sword placed in this manner—it wasn't just a blade, but an open invitation... to a confrontation that didn't require anyone to survive.
The men's faces paled, and their breathing grew heavier. Even the sounds of licking and drinking stopped completely.
Meran broke the silence first, saying in a voice trembling from shock and admiration: "Ohhh... the Apholite!"
Julian sprang from his place as if a snake had bitten him, standing angrily with a red face, the veins in his neck swollen with rage. "For heaven's sake!" he screamed in a booming voice that filled the tent, "Are you a fool or what?! Is this the time for an Apholite challenge?! Do you know what you're doing?!"
Everyone in the drinking tent turned at once. The laughter died down, breaths trembled, everyone looking toward Julian whose screaming was loud.
Real shock was etched on Melissa's features. Her eyes widened further, and her lips opened slightly in silent amazement. She hadn't expected this at all, not from Cedric, nor from any man in the kingdom... Wait, who was this Cedric anyway, an admirer she had never noticed in her life.
Before Julian could scream again, Melissa extended her hand and grasped his standing hand, pulling it gently but firmly to calm him down and sit. Her touch was cool and reassuring, the touch of a woman accustomed to controlling her husband.
"Julian," she whispered in a calm voice, "sit down."
Julian sat reluctantly, but his eyes remained fixed on Cedric. As for Melissa, she raised her eyes toward Cedric, who was still standing before her like a stone statue. She looked into his eyes for a long time, searching for answers, trying to understand the mad motives that had led him to this desperate act.
Then, in her calm voice, she said,
"I accept your challenge."
...