As my hair turned to the color of iron, the battles became less about the frontier and more about the palace halls. This was the war I was least equipped to fight. Men like Hikumbus—then a rising star in the Gamma diplomatic circles—did not use spears. They used whispers, gold, and the "Judas Contract."
I began to see the rot. The nobility wanted the army to be a toy, a decorative force to parade during festivals. They begrudged the cost of grain for the frontier forts while they spent fortunes on silk and wine.
I remember a specific banquet where a young Hikumbus toasted to "a world without walls." He spoke of a global peace, a unification of the empires. The court cheered. I remained silent. I knew that a world without walls is just a world where the wolves are invited to dinner. I looked at Hikumbus and saw a man who would burn a forest just to see the smoke. He was the shadow to my steel, and I knew then that one day, his silver tongue would be the end of my iron arm.