"Sister… this just complicated everything," Roland said, voice tight with concern.
Leonora's hands clenched around the controls, her teeth grinding. "You think I don't know that? Every fiber of my being screams at me to hurl this ship toward him… but my brain, my stupid brain, won't let me. Why do you have to do this to me, Youri…" Her words trembled, equal parts fury and longing, a whisper of anguish buried in the roaring engines.
Seven Years Ago — Imperial Palace, Fansilia
"Lady Leonora, you have a message." Anna's voice was hesitant, measured.
Leonora whipped her head around. "What is it, Anna?" She tapped a foot impatiently, a low hum of irritation in her chest.
"It's from the Minister, my lady. He's requesting… a meeting with you."
Her brow furrowed. "Really? What does that man want now?!"
"He expects you at the royal palace."
"Huh. What a drag…" Leonora muttered, a half-smile hiding annoyance and anticipation. "Can't I send Roland in my place?"
Anna shook her head. "I'm sorry, my lady, but I would advise against that."
Leonora sighed, a mix of irritation and resignation. "You have a point. Get the car ready, then."
"Yes, my lady."
At the Palace
"Welcome, Lady Leonora. The Minister is waiting in his office."
"Thank you," she said curtly, though her posture betrayed alertness.
"General Leonora, thank you for your presence today. I hope I didn't inconvenience you since this was short notice."
"Don't worry, Minister," she said, her voice cool and deliberate. "But I'd like to cut to the chase, if we may."
"Of course. I summoned you to relay a request that comes directly from His Highness. There is… a problem in our Kalkan campaign. The rebel forces are proving unexpectedly resilient. They've pushed our forces back — even from our initial formation. We believe reinforcements are warranted."
Leonora's eyes narrowed. "So you want me to support the Kalkan forces?"
"Well, yes and no. We need your forces as backup — and as transport… for the god unit the Emperor has chosen to deploy there."
Her eyes widened, voice rising in disbelief. "What!? You're sending a god?!"
"Yes. His Highness has decided the time for decisive action is now."
"But Minister! We haven't deployed a god unit in eight years. The consequences — you know them!"
"Leonora," he said firmly, gaze unwavering. "I know you are honorable. I know your skill. I know your instincts to minimize civilian casualties. But sacrifices… sacrifices are inevitable, no matter how carefully we tread."
Leonora's jaw set. "I understand. But if you allow me to deploy the Royal Knights, I can guarantee victory." Her voice carried conviction, pride, and a simmering defiance.
"General, these are direct orders from the Emperor. You will deploy tomorrow at 0400 hours. Thank you for your time."
[Door closes.]
"The car is ready, my lady," Anna said softly.
Leonora's shoulders sagged briefly, tension radiating from her like a storm. "Change destination. I need a drink."
Fansilia Night District — Marta's Tavern
"Are you sure you want to come here, my lady?" Anna's voice trembled, barely audible over the din of the tavern, worry lacing each word.
Leonora's eyes narrowed, jaw tight, a storm of impatience and determination behind her gaze. "Don't worry. You wait in the car."
"Yes, my lady," Anna said softly, bowing, her shoulders heavy with the unspoken fear of what might unfold. She melted into the shadows, leaving Leonora alone.
The tavern doors burst open, slamming against the wall. Smoke coiled in thick spirals, mixing with the stench of spilled ale and the shouts of the drunk and desperate.
"Oh! We got a lady here, boys! The night just got better! Cheers, everyone, to that beautiful lady!"
[Rowdy cheers and laughter echoed, ricocheting off the walls and rattling the hanging lanterns, shaking the very air.]
"Please… don't mind them. Not everyone sees someone like me every day."
The bartender, a stocky woman with hands calloused from years behind the bar, gave her a sharp glance, then smiled faintly. "If you don't know who you're dealing with in this city, trouble will find you."
Leonora's eyes glinted, icy humor in her voice. "I like you. May I ask your name, bartender?"
"Only if you give me yours," the woman replied, matching her gaze with steady defiance.
Leonora tilted her head, letting her laugh carry a mix of charm and menace. "Haha. I'm Leonora. Pleasure's mine."
"That's more like it. Welcome to Marta's, Leonora. I'm Marta."
"Hey Marta, another bottle of gin," a slurred, reckless voice called from a shadowed corner.
"Get out of here, Youri. You've had enough. Go home!"
"Come on, just one more bottle. Please!"
"I said no. You deploy tomorrow. Go, idiot."
"Oh, you're no fun, Marta."
"Out!"
Leonora's gaze swept to him — Youri — and her breath hitched. He radiated danger and recklessness, the aura of a man who had stared death in the face and smirked. Every careless motion, every slouched posture spoke of someone who lived on the edge, untouched by caution but teetering on chaos.
"You get a lot of guys like that?" she asked, her voice low, curious but edged with incredulity.
"No… mostly ordinary soldiers, crew members… But him? Never. Not in my life. I wouldn't trade places with him for anything," Marta said, voice almost reverent, heavy with the weight of warning.
"Is he… a criminal?" Leonora pressed, disbelief and awe lacing each word.
"No. More… an executioner," Marta said quietly, her eyes narrowing, unflinching.
Leonora's chest tightened. "What?"
"He pilots a god," Marta said, voice barely a whisper, heavy with the gravity of what that meant.
Recognition struck Leonora like lightning. Her pulse quickened. The pieces clicked into place — the recklessness, the aura of danger, the silent command of men around him.
"You said he pilots a god. Why is he in a place like this?" Leonora's voice was sharp, suspicion and exasperation coiling together, trembling with the fear of what he might be capable of.
"Everyone has demons," Marta said, clipped, her eyes flicking nervously to the shadows. "The bottle helps ordinary people cope. I'd bet he has something far worse than most."
Leonora's chest tightened. "…Did it help with your demons?" Marta asked, voice softening "Thanks for the drink, Marta. See you next time. Not soon tho — I've had enough of this already."
Leonora's smirk returned, sharper now, a mix of amusement, warning, and something unspoken. Her boots clicked hard against the wooden floor, each strike echoing like a drumbeat of purpose. Smoke, laughter, and the smell of ale clung to her cloak, but she moved as if the chaos were nothing — a phantom, ready to face whatever storm awaited her.
Her eyes lingered on Youri, burning with unspoken fury and concern, a tempest of emotion. She knew, with a shiver of anticipation and dread, that their fates were inextricably tied — and that the storm was only just beginning.
"Hey Youri! Where've you been? Come, drink with us. You owe us from last time."
Youri staggered forward, swaying slightly, voice slurred from the gin. "Sorry… I'm broke, guys."
[He stumbled, colliding clumsily with Leonora, sending a bottle shattering across the floor.]
"Shit! My bottle!" Leonora's voice cracked with fury, sharp and dangerous.
"What do you think you're doing, idiot?!" Her eyes blazed, twin daggers of anger and disbelief.
"Oh… sorry! Did I hit you? Are you blind or something?" Youri slurred, trying to steady himself, the gin-scented air clinging to him like a second skin.
"Come on, I lost my bottle too. Let's call it even—"
[Leonora's patience snapped. With a lightning-fast motion, she swung her fist, striking his jaw. She grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off balance, her glare searing.]
"You damn monster," she hissed, teeth bared. "You think you can toy with everyone and get away with it?" Her voice thundered over the murmurs of the tavern. "Let me open your eyes, Youri. You are nothing but an empty husk!"
[She leaned in closer, her breath cold, voice low and lethal.]
"And do you know what I hate most in this world? Empty things."
Youri's knees buckled, and he sagged against her grip, stunned, guilt and awe mingling in his eyes. For the first time, the fearless, reckless man felt the weight of authority and raw emotion pressing down on him.
[Leonora released him with a shove, storming toward the door, her cloak whipping around her. Every footstep rang with conviction, echoing off the walls like a drumbeat of judgment.]
The tavern fell silent, the rowdy patrons frozen, mouths agape.
"Holy… that goddess just whooped Youri," whispered a soldier in awe, gripping the edge of the bar. "That… that was insane."
"Get up, man. We told you to be careful," another muttered, shaking his head.
"Ehh… she had a point," Youri mumbled, rubbing his jaw, pride and grudging respect warring with embarrassment.
[Outside, Leonora paused, the cold night air biting at her cheeks. Her chest heaved, anger and longing tangled together. For a moment, she let herself breathe, the night quiet around her, the chaos of the tavern behind her like a distant memory.]