The command chamber was a small room built deep into the stone of the outpost — round, windowless, and cold. A single lantern hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows across the table in the center.
Two chairs.
Two knights.
One commander.
Ryliegh stood at attention, helmet under one arm. Phoenix sat, straight-backed despite the bandages beneath his armor. His helmet rested on the table — crimson and gold dulled to rust and ash. He hadn't spoken since they were called in.
The commander circled the room once before speaking. She was older — hair silver at the temples, armor ceremonial only in polish. The scar across her right cheek marked her as the one who had sent Ryliegh into the Darkzone.
Her voice was measured. Sharp. Like steel that had long since stopped trying to shine.
"Sir Ryliegh Fieldweaver. Red Knight Solto."
Phoenix didn't flinch at the use of his last name.
"You will recount the events from the moment of your divergence into the Darkzone until your arrival here. I expect clarity. Not interpretation."
Ryliegh gave a brief nod. "Yes, Commander."
She gestured for him to begin.
Ryliegh did — direct and clean, as always. He described the trail, the scouting, the bodies. The encounter with the first grunt. The stalking. The battlefield. The wreckage of the red company.
No embellishment.
No guesswork.
When he mentioned Phoenix, he paused.
"He was seated. Still armored. Covered in blood, ash, and broken steel. Flamberge across his knees. Breathing."
The commander turned her eyes to Phoenix. "And how many of your company survived, Solto?"
Phoenix met her gaze without hesitation.
"One."
"Just you."
"Yes, Commander."
Her jaw clenched briefly.
"You were not the commander of that company."
"No, Commander."
"Then explain how you survived and your superior did not."
Phoenix's voice didn't rise. "He died on the second day. Ambushed. We fractured. Some fled. I didn't."
The commander stepped closer, arms behind her back. "And you expect me to believe that one knight — not a commander, not an elite — stood alone against a field of corrupted creatures and lived?"
Phoenix's voice was steady. "I don't expect anything. I'm just telling you what happened."
She stared at him. "You could be lying. Exaggerating. Taking credit."
"I could be," Phoenix said. "But I'm not."
The room was silent.
Then Ryliegh spoke. "With respect, Commander — I was there. The battlefield told the truth before he did. He didn't take credit. He didn't speak unless asked."
The commander turned to him. "Your report will be verified. But I trust your assessment."
She looked back at Phoenix.
"You are not the last red knight, Solto. But you are the last of your company. That distinction matters."
Phoenix gave a short nod. "Understood."
She paced once more.
"We will send word to Emerald Command. They'll want to review this personally. Until then, you are under provisional recovery assignment within this outpost. You will remain armed, but you will not leave without escort."
"I wasn't planning to," Phoenix said.
She stopped near the door. "Do you believe what happened in the Darkzone was an isolated failure?"
Phoenix looked down at his hands.
Then back at her.
"No, Commander."
She nodded once.
"Neither do I."
She exited, boots echoing against the stone.
The door shut.
The room fell into silence.
Ryliegh turned to Phoenix. "How'd you feel about that?"
Phoenix exhaled slowly. "Like I got dressed for my own funeral and was told to come back later."
Ryliegh picked up his helmet. "You lived."
Phoenix stood, taking his. "That seems to be the problem."