The royal seal pressed into the thick parchment carried weight—both literal and figurative. The last time he had received something this official, he was being politely informed that he owed a rather unpolite amount of taxes. So naturally, his first instinct was to panic.

But no. This wasn’t a bill. This was worse.

An official summons from the royal court.

He broke the wax seal with all the enthusiasm of a man defusing a bomb and skimmed the contents. Then he read it again. Then once more, just in case his sleep-deprived brain was misfiring.

He was being called to serve as an adviser at a noble war council.

"Oh, for the love of—"

The paper fluttered onto the desk as he rubbed his temples. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet. In the game’s timeline, war didn’t start for at least another year. The noble factions should still be busy backstabbing each other over import taxes or some other bureaucratic nonsense. Instead, here he was, being dragged into what was likely the beginning of a very messy, very bloody conflict.

"Nope. Not doing it. I refuse."

Sylpkx, who had been silently standing by the door like an overqualified shadow, raised an eyebrow. "So you're ignoring an official summons from the royal court?"

"Yes."

"And what will you do when they send a squad of knights to personally escort you?"

"Hide."

"You're an idiot."

"A very smart idiot with an excellent survival instinct," he countered. "This war is moving way too fast, and if I show up at that council, they’ll expect me to have answers. Which I don’t. Because the game’s script is currently on fire, and I have no idea who’s holding the matches."

Sylpkx sighed, crossing her arms. "Then let’s figure it out before you end up on the battlefield with a stick and a prayer."

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SYLPKX - THE BLADE IN THE DARK

A few hours and several exasperated arguments later, Sylpkx found herself standing at the training grounds, watching the soldiers prepare. Some were sharpening their weapons, others were sparring, and a few were just standing around gossiping about the upcoming war like it was some grand festival.

"You hear? Lord Balthier’s been hoarding grain. If we march, half the troops will be eating dried shoe leather before the first battle."

"Forget food! What about armor? The smiths are already stretched thin, and the nobles keep placing personal orders for gold-trimmed plate. Who wears gold into battle?"

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"People who want to get stabbed first."

Sylpkx exhaled slowly. If war was coming, they needed to be prepared. And by "prepared," she meant not dying because some noble thought aesthetics were more important than basic survival.

She spotted the captain of the guard—an older, battle-worn man with a permanent scowl—going over logistics. Without hesitation, she marched up to him.

"Tell me something good."

"We have enough weapons for maybe half the expected force, rations are already running low, and morale is... well, let’s just say I’ve seen chickens more eager for battle."

"So nothing good, then."

"I thought that was implied."

Sylpkx pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alright. If I bring you a supply route that isn’t under noble control, can you make use of it?"

The captain raised an eyebrow. "That depends. How legal is it?"

She smirked. "It exists outside of noble jurisdiction. That’s all you need to know."

"...Right. If it keeps my men fed, I don’t care if it’s run by bandits or ghosts."

"Perfect. Expect a shipment by next week. And if anyone asks where it came from—"

"What shipment?"

"See, this is why I like you, Captain."

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THE COUNCIL CHAMBER - A ROOM FULL OF JACKALS

By the time he arrived at the war council, he was already regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment.

The chamber was filled with nobles, each one trying to look more important than the next. Some were seasoned veterans, others were freshly titled upstarts looking to make a name for themselves. The atmosphere was thick with tension, political maneuvering, and—unfortunately—perfume. Way too much perfume.

As he stepped inside, a familiar, smug voice rang out.

"Ah, our esteemed adviser arrives at last! We were beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost."

He turned to see Lord Edrin, a man who somehow managed to be both charming and insufferable in equal measure. Edrin wore an expression that suggested he was either welcoming a dear friend or preparing to push someone off a cliff.

"Oh, I assure you, Lord Edrin, I was simply savoring the peace before stepping into... whatever this is."

"A necessary discussion," Edrin replied smoothly, gesturing toward the long table where various maps and battle plans were spread out. "Come, take your place. We have much to discuss."

He took his seat, resisting the urge to let his forehead meet the table. The discussion began, and it was every bit as painful as he expected. Nobles arguing over whose troops should be stationed where, accusations flying about grain hoarding, and at least one idiot suggesting they "simply charge at the enemy with overwhelming zeal."

The only thing overwhelming was his desire to leave.

Eventually, he cleared his throat. "If I may offer some insight?"

The room quieted slightly as all eyes turned to him.

"First, if we don’t secure proper supply lines, this war ends before it begins. No food, no war. Secondly, the enemy isn’t going to wait for us to finish arguing. If we keep bickering over logistics instead of actually preparing, we’ll be overrun before we even see the battlefield. And third—"

He turned to the noble who suggested the "overwhelming zeal" strategy. "Please don’t talk again. Ever."

There was a pause. Then, to his absolute shock, Edrin chuckled.

"Well, at least someone here understands the situation."

Sylpkx, who had been quietly watching from the corner, smirked. "About time you started sounding like an adviser."

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, I am very much advising. Advising that we all reconsider our life choices and possibly relocate to a nice, war-free island."

Edrin grinned. "Alas, the time for escape has passed. War is upon us, my friend. And it’s time to see where the pieces fall."

He looked down at the maps, his mind already racing with calculations.

He just hoped he wouldn’t end up as one of those fallen pieces.