The city of Tortilla looked serene from above sunlight pouring over white rooftops, the river glittering like a ribbon of silver between the districts. But inside the Council Pavilion, peace was always just another performance.
Marble columns lined the grand hall, draped in banners bearing the sigil of the Tortilla lineage a golden hawk over blue flame. The air smelled faintly of parchment, perfume, and politics.
Vallery Tortilla, the matriarch of the city, stood by the tall windows, watching the banners shift gently in the breeze. Her presence alone silenced the noise of court officials.
She didn't need to shout.
She never did.
Her daughter, Trilla, entered quietly, still brushing dust off her dress from the morning's "balcony physics lesson." She bowed, half-graceful, half-guilty.
"Mother."
"Trilla." Vallery turned with that soft smile the kind that felt like sunlight and a trap all at once. "I was told your lessons ended early today."
Trilla smiled sheepishly. "Technically, I ended them early. Gravity helped."
The older woman's eyebrow lifted just slightly enough to convey both disapproval and amusement. "Gravity has been very kind to you lately. Try not to abuse the relationship."
A few council members chuckled before quickly pretending they hadn't.
Trilla crossed her arms. "I learn better outside anyway. Books smell too serious."
"Knowledge isn't meant to smell pleasant," Vallery replied, turning back to the window. "But you may find it useful one day when charm no longer wins wars."
That line landed softly but purposefully.
Trilla tilted her head. "Are we at war, Mother?"
"Not yet." Vallery's reflection in the glass didn't move. "But men prepare for it as if peace were a rumor."
She gestured for Trilla to follow her toward the council table, where holographic maps and data sheets floated above polished wood. Red lights blinked faintly along the northern trade routes the same ones Vector had discussed hours earlier.
"Caravans gone missing again," Trilla noted, frowning. "That's the third this month."
"Fourth," Vallery corrected. "And the Empire calls it a coincidence."
She touched one of the blinking marks. It expanded into a series of unreadable military symbols. "Coincidences are often the prelude to stupidity."
Trilla smiled. "You sound like Vector."
At that, Vallery turned eyes narrowing just enough to study her daughter's tone. "Vector Breckenridge. The army's prodigy captain?"
"Yes," Trilla said too quickly. "I mean .. I only heard of him. In reports. And... rumors."
Vallery's lips curved, elegant and knowing. "Rumors have good ears. And poor manners."
"Mother," Trilla protested, blushing. "It's not like that."
"I didn't say it was," Vallery replied, hands folding gracefully before her. "But if you're going to blush at the mention of a soldier, at least pick one who doesn't water flowers in public."
Trilla gasped. "You heard about that?"
"Half the city did. Apparently, the God of War and Strategies has an excellent aim and very poor timing."
The council chamber broke into muffled laughter. Even the guards looked away, smirking.
Trilla groaned. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"
"Not until he stops ruining my flower beds," Vallery said serenely.
Then, as quickly as the mirth had come, her tone softened. "Jokes aside, Trilla… Captain Vector is no ordinary man. He carries the burden of too much brilliance. Men like that often burn themselves brighter than the wars they fight."
Trilla's smile faded slightly. "Do you trust him?"
Vallery considered the question, turning her gaze back to the horizon. "Trust is too expensive, my dear. I prefer to invest in observation."
There was a brief silence the kind that hummed with unspoken thoughts.
Outside, the city bells began their afternoon chime.
Trilla leaned on the table beside her mother. "Then I'll observe too."
Vallery looked at her daughter, really looked at her and for a heartbeat, the cunning softened into something almost fragile. "Good. But promise me one thing."
Trilla straightened. "Anything."
"When the storms come, and they will, don't let the world harden you to match it."
Trilla's throat tightened a little, but she smiled anyway. "Then I'll just let it soften for me instead."
That earned her a faint chuckle. "You truly are my daughter."
A messenger entered quietly, bowing low. "Lady Tortilla word from the barracks. Captain Vector and his unit are preparing for departure to the northern perimeter."
Vallery's gaze flicked to the window once more, her expression unreadable. "So it begins."
She dismissed the messenger with a nod.
Trilla stood beside her, the light of the setting sun bathing both of them in soft gold.
"Do you think he'll come back safe?" Trilla asked quietly.
Vallery didn't answer right away. Her eyes lingered on the distant horizon, where the military banners fluttered faintly against the dying light.
Finally, she said.. half to herself, half to the wind
"Men like him rarely come back the same."