After the seven merchants departed, the grand hall of the palace fell quiet again. Gavin Ward leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple with one hand. The silence did not last long.
Light, quick footsteps approached across the marble. He did not need to look up to know who it was.
"Ya'er," Gavin said with mild exasperation. "What now?"
Ya'er was not alone. She dragged Princess Angelina by the hand, both of them standing before Gavin as though prepared for battle. Angelina's golden hair spilled from beneath the oversized black military cap Gavin had placed on her head days before, the brim nearly covering her eyes.
"Are you really going to send troops?" Ya'er demanded.
At her side, Lina, the silver-eyed half-orc girl, stiffened immediately. The fur at her ears bristled, her tail stopped wagging, and she stepped instinctively closer to Gavin. Her wide silver eyes were fixed on the elves, full of suspicion.
"Yes," Gavin answered plainly.
"Then we'll go with you," Ya'er declared, chin up and voice sharp. She had been tending farmland for weeks and plainly had no wish to go back to pulling weeds.
"It's not child's play to raise armies and march into war," Gavin said, shaking his head.
Ya'er sniffed, folding her arms. "Hmph! Her Highness and I have wandered the mainland for fifty years. We've seen more than you can imagine."
Gavin raised a brow. "So you say." He tapped a finger on the table, then waved his hand. "Fine. You may come, but not as soldiers. You'll serve as civil officers—secretaries at my side."
He gestured for a maid. "Measure them for uniforms. Proper fit. Officers only."
The maid bowed and led the elves away.
"Yay! I can join the army!" Ya'er squealed, practically bouncing with joy.
Angelina, however, hung back, her head tilted down, golden lashes lowered over flushed cheeks. Her thoughts spun in circles. Secretaries by his side… why does that sound like something else entirely?
One girl left the hall excited. The other left shy, heart racing.
---
Lina's Jealousy
When they were gone, Gavin noticed Lina beside him, her furry ears drooping. A faint pout shadowed her lips.
He smiled. "What is it? Say what you're thinking."
"Master…" Lina's voice was soft, hesitant.
"Speak." He reached out and ruffled her silken ears.
Her cheeks warmed. "Lina… Lina thought… only Lina should serve the Master…"
There was no mistaking the note of jealousy in her words.
"Lina," Gavin said patiently, "the army is dangerous. Angelina and Ya'er can protect themselves with magic. You cannot. That's the only reason."
Lina's silver eyes lifted to his, shining with determination. "Then… Master, Lina wants to learn how to shoot!"
Her words were braver than her trembling voice.
Gavin paused, then chuckled. "Very well."
"Really?!" Lina brightened, tail wagging again. She launched herself against him, wrapping her small arms around his chest.
He expected her to pull away quickly, but she buried her head deeper into his uniform, trembling.
"Lina?" Gavin frowned, realizing something was wrong. Her small heart hammered against his chest like a drum. Heat radiated off her skin.
She raised her head, cheeks flushed scarlet, silver eyes glassy with confusion. "Master…" she whispered.
Recognition struck Gavin. The faqing period.
Half-orcs, like beasts, had their spring seasons. Lina was fifteen—grown to adulthood by half-orc reckoning. This was her first heat.
"Lina…" Gavin murmured.
She did not understand the storm in her body. She only knew it burned, and the man before her—the one she loved, the one who protected her—pulled at her like a lodestone.
Gavin's eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth curling. "So Lina has grown up too… It's time you understood some things."
The other maids in the hall knew better than to linger. They lowered the curtains, shut the doors, and withdrew without a word.
Behind closed doors, the muffled sound of voices, soft and breathless, rose and fell through the evening.
---
Nord's Fear
Far away, across the border in the Nord Kingdom, nobles gathered in a hall heavy with the smell of wine and fear.
"It has been two months," one lord said, his face pale. "His Majesty and His Highness marched into Ross territory with twelve lord magicians and even Lord Leander himself… Yet not a word has come back."
The room fell into uneasy silence.
Another slammed his fist on the table. "Impossible! The Ross Kingdom is weak. What trick could they possibly use to defeat our king and prince?"
But his defiance only deepened the unease.
One noble spoke low. "I fear their next goal will be us. An invasion."
"Invasion?!" another scoffed, voice louder than he intended. "They've fought battle after battle. Their capital is the only city left. They must be exhausted. Surely they will rest."
But the first man shook his head. "You don't understand. Our armies are gone—our fields empty. The prince took every regiment. The Nord Kingdom is defenseless. If Gavin Ward chooses to strike now, what can stop him?"
The mention of Leander's name cast a chill over the table. Everyone knew what it meant: even the archmage had entered Ross and vanished.
Fear prickled the back of every neck.
"Last year," one whispered, "we raided Ross lands without challenge. But this year… it's like the country has become a beast with its jaws open. Whoever steps inside is swallowed whole."
The men shifted uneasily, sipping their wine as though it could drown their thoughts.
Then one lord, flushed with drink, suddenly roared. "Come then! Let them come! I want to see how terrifying Ross's army truly is!" He hurled his cup against the wall, wine splashing red across the stone.
But the others did not echo him. Their eyes darted, shifty and uncertain. Each one was calculating a way to save himself.
The ground trembled.
"BOOM!"
The ceiling beams rattled. The chandeliers shook. Nobles froze, staring upward with wide eyes.
"What was that?!"
Another explosion followed, closer this time. The tremors rolled beneath their feet.
Outside, the night air filled with the unmistakable sound of engines, the grind of gears, and the heavy, steady rhythm of boots marching in time.
The nobles looked at one another, faces drained of color.
The invasion had begun.
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