The carriage jolted, wheels protesting as they ground against loose stone. Kael's hand braced against the cold wood of the frame, his eyes fixed on the driver's hunched back. The man's muttering was now frantic, a nervous chant to the "Ashen Curse" and whatever local spirits he thought might protect him.
The pulse in Kael's mind was a siren call: [DANGER ALERT: The carriage driver intends to abandon you before reaching the frontier.]
Kael leaned forward, his voice cutting through the wind like a drawn blade. "Driver. Halt. That is an order."
The man flinched violently, but the cadence of the command—sharp, non-negotiable—carried the weight of a lifetime spent in structured environments. Reluctantly, the driver pulled the reins. The carriage creaked to a stop on the cracked, desolate road. Dust instantly swirled, enveloping them in a howling, gray fog.
Kael threw the curtain aside and stepped down. His cloak snapped in the gale, and his boots crunched against the barren soil. He moved swiftly, fixing his gaze on the driver's rigid shoulders.
The escort of knights immediately tensed, their hands instinctively dropping to their sword hilts. They recognized the scent of a confrontation they did not want to be a part of.
Kael didn't raise his voice, yet every word was etched with clarity against the roar of the wind.
"Look at me."
The driver reluctantly turned, eyes darting everywhere but Kael's face. His lips were dry and trembling.
"Do you intend to leave me?" Kael demanded.
The man stammered, fumbling for an excuse. "M-my lord, I am unwell. The Curse is strong here. I cannot breathe the air, I—"
Kael cut him off, his voice dropping, forcing the man to listen closely. "Lies are insubordination, and insubordination in the field costs lives. Answer me plainly. Did you intend to leave the Baron of the Ashen Frontier to die on the road?"
The driver's resistance crumbled under the intensity of the gaze. He looked at the hard, steady brown eyes—eyes that had seen men betray their comrades in far harsher deserts.
"Yes, my lord," the driver whispered, his head bowing low. "I believed you were doomed. I meant to turn back and blame the land."
A ripple of nervous energy passed through the nearby knights.
Kael raised the Baron's Writ, the heavy wax seal glinting, an icon of imperial power in the desolate landscape. He held it up for the knights to see.
"This Writ is the Emperor's will," Kael declared, his voice rising, carrying the conviction Adrian Cole had used to motivate exhausted troops. "It is the chain. The Emperor commands the Duke. The Duke commands Kael Veynar. And Kael Veynar commands you."
He stepped toward the driver, his shadow falling over the kneeling man. "You do not serve a man. You serve the chain. In the Imperial Army, breaking that chain means execution. It means the failure of the entire line, and the death of every person you swore to protect."
Kael's gaze swept over the knights—a cold, calculating assessment. "You think me weak. You think this frontier cursed. But your duty is not to your fear. Your duty is to the Emperor's appointed Baron and to the Imperial chain of command that binds your very oath."
He lowered the Writ, tucking it away. The wind was still howling, but the air around them felt suddenly still, dominated by his unexpected presence.
"I require loyalty, not comfort. Discipline, not excuses. From this moment forward, my word is the Empire's law in this territory. We move forward." Kael gestured toward the horizon with a single, firm hand. "Any further discussion of turning back, any act of desertion, and you will answer to the Imperial Marshal, not me. Is that understood?"
The driver nodded quickly, terrified but subdued. "Understood, my lord."
The knights, led by Sergeant Rylen, straightened their posture. They weren't inspired by charisma, but subdued by absolute, terrifying clarity. The disgraced young noble had just spoken with the authority of a field commander.
"We proceed," Kael repeated.
He stepped back into the carriage. The Danger System's pulse dissolved completely, the threat averted. Adrian Cole settled onto the worn leather seat. First lesson delivered. Command presence established.
Exile was a death sentence. But Adrian Cole was a man who understood how to manage personnel and resources under hostile conditions. And in this world, that was the ultimate power.