Lucavion stared at the question.
A civilian caravan. Open terrain. Airborne surveillance. Limited resources.
It was the kind of scenario that begged for a diagram, or a simulation, or someone who still gave a damn about the chain of command.
He sat still, fingers resting lightly on the quill. No ink on the page yet. No spark of confidence either.
He could feel the hum of magic around the scroll, the time-lock enchantments already ticking in the background. But all it did was remind him what this wasn't.
This wasn't the field.
This wasn't mud and blood and barked orders cracking through the air like thunder. This wasn't desperation. This wasn't real.
In battle, there were no clean answers. No elegant formations. No strategic placements designed for theoretical nobility.
There was—
"I cut."
