The camp stirred slowly, fires crackling back to life as soldiers prepared for the day. Rory stood outside the General's tent, small hands balled into fists at his sides, his back straight as a spear. He didn't know exactly what he was waiting for—only that he had decided.
When the tent flaps parted, Lyra emerged in full uniform, Shawn and Captain Rita falling into step beside her. She nearly missed the boy at first, until his clear, unwavering voice rang out.
"General. Lieutenant. Captain."
Rita raised a brow, visibly amused. "Well. Someone's grown up overnight."
Shawn grinned, ruffling Rory's hair as though the boy weren't standing at attention. "Hey, kid. Go bother someone else. The General's got real work to do."
But Rory didn't flinch, didn't break his stare from Lyra. His voice was steady, too steady for someone his age. "I'm here for the General. What can I do?"
Lyra halted. For the briefest moment, something softened in her expression, as though she were seeing him not as a child, but as a recruit standing ready for orders. A hint of a smile tugged at her lips.
"I'm heading to the armory," she said at last. "You can follow me. After, we'll practice with your slingshot."
Rory's chest swelled with pride. "Yes, General."
The group had just begun walking when a warm, familiar voice called from behind them.
"Rory! There you are."
Selene approached, her cloak drawn tight against the morning chill. Her smile was radiant, gentle in a way that made the world around her seem less harsh. "Come with me, I need help with something."
Rory froze. His shoulders sagged, torn in two directions.
"I need his help," Lyra said, her tone clipped, commanding.
Selene's smile faltered. "He can't just be a soldier, Lyra." She crouched down, meeting Rory eye to eye, her voice lowering into a soothing lilt. "Livy, Enzo, and I are going to the fields. We'll gather herbs, maybe find a rabbit burrow. And there's a lake nearby—plenty of space for you and the other children to play before we come back."
Rory's gaze flicked back to Lyra. His lips parted, uncertain.
Shawn and Rita exchanged a loaded glance. They didn't dare speak, but the unspoken words were plain: *Round two.*
Lyra's stance was firm, unyielding. "I need him for now."
"He's still a child," Selene countered, her voice rising before she caught herself and softened it. "He needs to *be* a child for now."
The air between them bristled, invisible lines drawn in the dirt. Lyra's authority against Selene's compassion. The General's discipline against the Healer's heart.
Selene extended her hand. "Come with me, Rory."
The boy's breath hitched. Slowly, hesitantly, he placed his small hand into hers. His voice was quiet, but firm. "I'll go with Selene."
For an instant, Lyra's mask cracked. Surprise, then something deeper—something that looked like defeat—flickered across her face. She, the unbreakable General, had been defied not by an enemy commander, but by a child's choice and a healer's smile.
Without another word, Selene led Rory away. The boy never once looked back.
The silence they left behind was heavy.
"Well," Rita said at last, her smirk sly as she watched Selene's retreat. "If I had to choose, I'd go with the beautiful one too." She winked at Shawn.
He stared at her, jaw dropping. "Are you *trying* to get yourself killed?"
Lyra's head turned slowly, her gaze locking onto Rita like a predator's. "What did you just say?" Her voice was low, dangerous.
Rita cleared her throat, snapping to a crisp salute. "Nothing, General. Just an observation. The healer… has a way with people."
Lyra's glare lingered, sharp enough to cut steel. Then she exhaled sharply, muttering something under her breath before marching toward the armory.
Shawn let out the breath he'd been holding. "You've got a death wish, Captain."
But Rita only smirked, unbothered. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like watching history write itself."
The morning's standoff left a heaviness in the air that even the crisp sun couldn't burn away. Selene walked away with Rory's small hand in hers, the boy's steps quick to match her longer stride. Lyra stood frozen, the embers of defeat smoldering just beneath her calm exterior.
Without a word, she turned on her heel. "Armory. Now."
Shawn and Rita scrambled after her.
The armory smelled of oil and iron, the air thick with the rhythm of hammers and the scrape of whetstones. The moment Lyra strode inside, conversations died. Soldiers snapped to attention, but unease rippled through the ranks.
"Line up," Lyra ordered.
The line formed, rigid and nervous. Her voice was sharper than steel, and everyone knew what that meant—today would hurt.
Drills began. Swords clashed, shields thudded, barked commands echoed against stone walls. Lyra's strikes were faster, harder, more relentless than usual, and the soldiers struggled to keep pace.
Shawn ducked a blow that came a fraction too close. "Trying to kill us, General?" he muttered under his breath, though the grin on his face was strained.
"Again," Lyra snapped, ignoring him.
The knights reset, breathless, sweat streaming down their faces. Whispers broke out in the pauses, quiet but not quiet enough.
"…the boy chose the Healer…"
"…never seen her lose like that…"
"…maybe it's for the best…"
"...said the healer won the standoff"
Every half-heard murmur was a stone in Lyra's gut. She pushed harder.
"Faster! If you can't keep your blade up, you're dead. Again!"
Steel rang. Blades trembled in weary hands. No one dared disobey.
Hours passed before Shawn finally spoke what others only thought. He locked swords with Lyra, straining against the weight she threw into every strike. "General, you do realize you're terrifying your own men, right?"
She pressed harder, blade grinding against his. "Good. They should be terrified. It'll keep them alive."
Shawn's grin returned, sly this time. "Or maybe it's just because the kid picked Selene."
For a heartbeat, Lyra's strike faltered. A crack in her iron mask.
Shawn saw it and laughed, even as she shoved him back. "Ha! Hit the mark, didn't I?"
"Shut up," Lyra growled, resuming her stance.
From the wall, Rita crossed her arms, sharp eyes glittering. "He's not wrong, General. I've seen you face enemy commanders with less fury than you've got for one healer."
Lyra turned, glare like a blade. "Careful, Captain."
But Rita didn't flinch. "Just saying. You can't win every battle. Not with steel, and certainly not with her."
Lyra's jaw tightened. She dismissed them with a curt wave, voice clipped. "Enough for today. Dismissed."
By dusk, the soldiers limped away, sore and bruised. Lyra stayed behind, pacing the armory like a caged wolf.
The sound of laughter drifted across camp. She stepped to the doorway, the fading sunlight washing her in gold and shadow.
Rory came running back, arms full of herbs, face flushed with excitement. Other children tumbled after him, their laughter ringing like chimes. Behind them, Selene walked at an easy pace, her calm presence like the glow of a hearthfire in the twilight.
Rory didn't glance toward the armory. He ran straight to Selene, tugging at her sleeve as he chattered about something she had shown him. She smiled down at him, listening as though nothing else in the world mattered.
Lyra stood unseen in the doorway, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword until her knuckles whitened.
The General had won a hundred battles. But tonight, watching Selene's quiet victory, she had never felt so defeated.