The aroma of freshly cooked food still lingered in the air of the tent, a lingering reminder of the hearty meal Kain had consumed. The sensation of solid food in his stomach after months in the wilderness was indescribably gratifying. His new general’s uniform felt unnervingly clean and formal after so long in battle armor. Kain sat, feeling the soft fabric of his tunic brush against his freshly cleaned skin.

He was without his armor, the familiar weight absent from his shoulders, and for the first time in a long while, he felt almost comfortable. His wounds, treated with care, still ached, but the pain was dull, easily ignored in comparison to the crushing sorrow of his recent loss.

Palomides sat across from him, holding several maps and notes in his strong hands. His voice reverberated through the tent, punctuated by a strict formality that Kain could barely recall.

— General, I can report that our troops are holding the lines at the outposts, but the pressure is increasing. Here at the Leonian border, we are still secure and have sufficient provisions for now, but the supply route from Bargon is at risk... — Palomides continued, detailing the state of the war, troop positions, supply conditions, and the status of the wounded. The words flowed in a steady stream, each detail vital to the effective management of the camp and the conduct of the war.

With each new piece of information, Kain felt the weight of command. It shouldn’t have, but it was something new to him. He was no longer just a soldier; now he was a general, with the lives of soldiers in his hands once again. And despite the fatigue that still consumed him and the dull throbbing of his injuries, he felt that perhaps he wasn’t fully ready to face the challenge that lay ahead.

Suddenly, a sharp interruption broke Palomides’ report. A soldier burst into the tent, his face flushed and breathless.

— A knight of Leon approaches, General! — he exclaimed, pointing to the entrance of the tent. — He requests to speak with the camp commander.

The air in the tent immediately grew tense. A visit from a man-at-arms of Leon was unusual, and given the current state of conflict, nothing good could be expected from it. Kain stood, the seriousness settling on his shoulders as he prepared to face whatever this new situation would bring.

Kain nodded, understanding the harsh reality that the captain had laid before him. The situation was worse than he had imagined, and the presence of Dillard Darksword grew more threatening with each new piece of information he received.

He allowed himself a brief moment to gather his thoughts before speaking again.

— I understand — he said, swallowing hard.

He couldn’t let his discomfort show to the soldiers. He needed to appear confident and assured, even if inside he was in turmoil. He was a warrior, not a commander. But now he had to play both roles and do the best he could.

Realizing that the “commander” the Leonian messenger wished to speak to was himself, Kain paused for a moment. He had no idea why a knight of the kingdom of Leon would seek him out. Nor did he know what should be said or how he should act.

— As for the knight from Leon... — Kain said, pausing to find the right words. — Let him in. Though I do not know his intention, it is important to hear him. It could be important news or a message from their kingdom.

He glanced at Palomides, trying to keep his insecurity hidden. His eyes conveyed a silent message to those who could read them: in this moment of uncertainty, he needed, more than ever, the experience and wisdom of a true general.

Kain stood tall, his dignity reinforced by his new general’s uniform, despite the pain that still lingered in his wounds. The interior of the command tent exuded a sense of power and responsibility that he was still adjusting to. As he walked, the soft creaking of the wooden floor and the flickering light of the lanterns bathed the tent in a golden glow, casting dancing shadows on the suspended military tapestries.

One of his subordinates flung open the tent flap vigorously, revealing the expanse of the camp like a meticulously woven tapestry. The dirt path, marked by countless footprints and cart tracks, split the camp in two like an open scar in the earth, an imposing corridor for anyone approaching.

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For a moment, the landscape unfolded once more before Kain’s eyes: a sea of tents stretching as far as the eye could see, a constant hum of voices and activity forming the camp’s melody. He could see soldiers hurrying about—some preparing for the next patrol, others repairing weapons and armor, while some still attempted to rest. The evening light reflected off polished shields, creating sparks of light that resembled fallen stars.

Across the camp, flags danced in the wind like silk serpents, each bearing the emblems of their respective families, a colorful mosaic of loyalties and alliances. The vibrant colors contrasted against the clear blue sky, creating a spectacle that mesmerized the eye.

It was a glimpse of life in a military camp: chaotic orchestration, a tangle of activities meant to ensure survival and, if possible, victory. To Kain, it was the most beautiful and terrifying sight he had ever seen. Every detail, every sound, every movement was a constant reminder of the responsibility now weighing on his shoulders. And so, standing before this imposing and challenging scene, Kain felt a resolve form within him, a clear sign that perhaps he was ready to face whatever came next.

The messenger made his entrance, bringing with him a dappled horse that kicked up clouds of dust in an almost poetic rhythm with each vigorous step. Upon reaching the front of the tent, he stopped abruptly. Still mounted—a possible show of disrespect or indifference—his cold, battle-hardened eyes fixed on Kain, a silent challenge conveyed through his firm gaze and expressions laden with seriousness.

With a firm, gloved hand, the knight reached for his saddle, from which he retrieved a carefully rolled parchment, sealed with the wax emblem of Leon.

With a voice that sliced through the air and overpowered the constant noise of the camp, the knight announced:

— I come here as a messenger from the governor of Astoria — he proclaimed, referring to the Leonian region on the border, home to both the military camp and a portion of the refugee field. — The governor will dispatch a delegation, headed by his official emissary, at first light tomorrow to address all outstanding matters related to your camp and the refugee field.

Each syllable was spoken with undeniable authority, reverberating in the air and passing through the men like a wave that seemed to echo all the way to the tent’s interior, suspending an atmosphere of tension. His voice carried an undeniable weight, exuding the burden of his role and the inherent bitterness of power. Each phrase reflected the gravity of the unfolding situation.

Before Kain could formulate an appropriate response, the knight abruptly turned the reins, spurring his horse into a full gallop, disappearing around the bend in the path. His hasty departure, without waiting for a response or even a nod, left a trail of dust and disrespect in the air. The insult was clear. Kain felt a surge of indignation flare in his chest, like a flame stoked by a gust of wind.

The general acted on impulse, raising his arm in an instinctive gesture.

— Stop him! — he commanded, his voice resounding through the sudden quiet that had fallen over the camp.

Kain’s order triggered a flurry of movement among his men. Bows were raised in quick succession, the twilight light reflecting off the tips of arrows, tense and ready to fly. The soldiers waited, their eyes fixed on their leader for a sign of confirmation.

One of the sergeants, a gray-haired man with piercing eyes, approached Kain, a silent question hanging in the air between them.

— Sir, do we have your orders? — he asked, his voice filled with seriousness and expectation.

A nearly supernatural silence gripped the camp, the men waiting, motionless, as if time had stopped.

Then, the serious expression on Kain’s face dissolved, replaced by a sudden smile.

— Just kidding, men! — he exclaimed, and the weight of the situation vanished as if it had never existed. Arrows were lowered, and the sound of the soldiers’ suppressed laughter filled the air, breaking the tension that had previously dominated.

The laughter and remnants of relief gradually gave way to silence once again as Kain turned back to Palomides, a shadow of worry marking his previously firm features. This was not a battle he could face with a sword or shield, but a battlefield of an entirely different nature, ruled by rules and formalities unfamiliar to the young general.

— Palomides — Kain said, his voice lower than he would have liked. He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of expectations bearing down on him. — We need to prepare for the arrival of the Leonian delegation. I’m not... I’m not sure what exactly needs to be done.

Palomides’ steely blue-gray eyes met Kain’s, a hint of understanding there. He nodded, his voice resonating with the authority of years of experience.

— We’ll do what’s necessary, sir. We’ll prepare the camp to receive the delegation. We’ll make sure we look like an army worthy of respect.

Kain couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief at the veteran’s confident words.

— Right, right... prepare everything, Palomides. I want us to be seen as a force to be respected, not a handful of desperate men.

— As you command, General — Palomides responded, then left to see to the preparations.

Alone once again, Kain watched the camp’s bustle, and nervousness became a silent companion. The arrival of a delegation from Leon was a new and unknown challenge. His leadership and the resilience of his army were at stake, but on a battlefield entirely different from the one he was used to. He would have to learn quickly, for the battlefield was changing.