Geneva – Imperial Embassy VillaTwo Nights After the Monster Offensive
The world had barely caught its breath.
Reports still poured in from the Styrian front—casualty lists, scorched earth, broken steel. The horrors of the monster wave haunted the empire's dreams. But tonight, in the heart of Geneva, beneath an overcast sky and between tall glass windows that overlooked the placid lake, silence reigned.
Hans Ehrenfeld Adler stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the silver-trimmed collar of his evening uniform. The scars of battle had been scrubbed clean, but the weight still clung to his shoulders. A knock sounded behind him—light, but purposeful.
He didn't need to ask.He already knew.
Eliska stood in the doorway, wrapped in a velvet-black dress that shimmered like the night sky. Her hair was done in a coiled braid, and her lips were set—not with tension, but with quiet affection.
"You're late," she said.
"I was trying to forget what the front looked like." Hans stepped closer, taking her gloved hand. "I failed."
"Then let me help you remember something else."
They left the embassy behind, walking through a cordoned-off garden beside the lake. A private chef—flown in from Prague—had laid out a quiet table beneath the awning of a glass veranda. String lights drifted like fireflies in the air. No guards. No aides. Just two sovereigns.
Later That Evening – Geneva Villa, Upper Floor
The room was quiet, lit by candlelight. The curtains danced gently with the wind. Eliska leaned against the window, wine in hand, eyes on the distant stars.
Hans stood behind her, arms crossed, saying nothing at first.
"Do you think it's over?" she finally asked.
"Not even close. But I think... we bought time."
She turned.
"Then what will we do with that time?"
Hans didn't answer with words. He stepped forward, placing his hand against her cheek, then leaned in—and kissed her. It was slow, deliberate—not of passion, but of certainty.
They had survived fire.
Now they allowed themselves warmth.
As night settled deeper, they lay together beneath the silken canopy of the imperial villa. Two leaders. Two warriors. Two scarred hearts in a brief moment of peace.
In the Depths of the Alps – Same Night
A signal flared red deep within the ancient caverns. Karling's generals had gathered again. One of them, a creature with melted skin and golden eyes, hissed through its broken mouth.
"They grow soft... distracted."
Karling, seated upon a throne of carved obsidian, opened his palm. A small red stone pulsed like a beating heart.
"Let them love. Let them rest. We will bury them with it."