The courtyard of the Aldenar estate had become a place of violet-hued nightmares. Isella stood at the center of the massive, glowing rune-circle, her hair whipping around her face like a halo of frost.
Mina stood on the perimeter, away from the swirling mana-mist. While the rest of the household was caught in a whirlwind of emotional goodbyes and frantic packing, Mina was a pillar of cold, hard reality. She had spent the last hour methodically checking the gear of the departing soldiers, tightening cinches, testing the spring of crossbow triggers, and ensuring that every man had a high-grade warming stone tucked into his inner vest.
She didn't do it out of affection. She did it because a soldier with a malfunctioning blade was a liability to the Duchess's security. Or at least, that was the lie she told herself.
"The left flank is secured, Commander," Mina said, her voice cutting through the roar of the magical wind as a figure approached her from the shadows of the barracks.
