The southern field of Tortilla stretched beneath the morning sun green, gold, and loud. Banners snapped in the wind, boots thundered in rhythm, and someone was shouting "LEFT FOOT, YOU SHRIMPS!" for the tenth time that hour.
It was the kind of chaos that smelled like sweat and pride.
From the hill overlooking the field, Trilla Tortilla adjusted the reins of her mare. Her polished armor caught the sunlight, glinting like the banners below. She looked every bit the commander calm, poised, a figure sculpted from discipline.
If only her stomach agreed with her face.
"Maki," she said, keeping her tone flat, "am I the only one who feels like everyone down there is waiting to see if I trip?"
Her aide, Maki, trotted beside her, holding a clipboard half her size. "Of course not, my lady. Half of them are waiting for you to breathe wrong."
Trilla exhaled sharply through her nose. "Comforting."
Maki smirked. "You could always fall dramatically. That'll shut them up."
"Eww. Dramatic entrances are for nobles who need attention."
Maki raised an eyebrow. "You are a noble."
Trilla gave her a sidelong glare. "Not that kind of noble."
They rode the last few yards in silence before dismounting near the command tents. Trumpets sounded. Soldiers straightened. Conversations died mid-laugh. The presence of the Tortilla heiress tended to have that effect a sudden, heavy formality falling over the air.
"Lady Trilla!" Cidney Cavy saluted first, her voice half-discipline, half-grumble. "Honored to have you inspect the western detachment. Try not to be disappointed they're all idiots, but they swing swords nicely."
Trilla blinked. "That's… reassuring?"
Furi Wetland, standing beside Cidney, bowed with quiet elegance. "Please excuse Captain Cidney's candor. She's allergic to diplomacy."
Cidney snorted. "Damn right."
Trilla almost smiled. Almost. "At least someone's honest."
Her gaze drifted over the ranks rows of soldiers standing at attention. And there, a few lines back, she saw him.
Vector.
Hair disheveled. Uniform slightly undone. Calm expression like he'd been carved from iron and indifference.
Her brain promptly betrayed her by flashing the memory of their ridiculous first encounter the flower bed, the nose-picking.
She felt her cheeks heat slightly. Great. Just great.
Meanwhile, Vector stood in formation like a statue carved to irritate the sun.
He'd heard whispers she'd be inspecting the troops. He didn't expect her to actually look like she'd stepped out of a painting and walked into his memory.
"Gahhh…" he muttered under his breath, earning a confused glance from the recruit next to him.
Cidney walked past the line, barking orders. "Straighten up, you bastards! The lady's inspecting, not picking livestock!"
Furi stood quietly nearby, his arms folded, observing the subtle shift in Vector's demeanor. "Interesting," he murmured.
"What is?" Cidney asked, too busy adjusting her glove.
"Vector just blinked. Twice. In five seconds."
Cidney's eyes widened. "Holy hell, mark it down. Zombie behavior confirmed."
Trilla stepped closer, boots crunching on gravel.
Her inspection was deliberate. Calm. Focused. But her pulse betrayed her that ridiculous warmth rising again as she approached him.
She stopped right in front of Vector.
The world seemed to hush.
For a brief moment, no one moved. Not the soldiers, not the wind. Just those two the strategist and the heiress, standing too close to pretend it didn't mean something.
Trilla tilted her head slightly. "Captain Vector, correct?"
His voice was even, formal. "Yes, my lady."
"Your reputation precedes you," she said. "God of War and Strategies, was it?"
He hesitated a moment too long. "A title people like to say when they don't want to argue."
A corner of her lip curved. "And do you enjoy not being argued with?"
Vector met her gaze properly this time steady, unreadable, but faintly amused. "Depends on the argument."
Behind them, Cidney mouthed to Furi, What the hell is this? Flirting? Tactical staring?
Furi whispered back, "Possibly both."
Trilla took a half-step closer, examining the faint scar under his left eye socket. It wasn't the scar that caught her, though. It was how still he was like the world could crumble around him and he'd simply adjust his footing.
"Tell me, Captain," she said quietly, "do you believe victory is born from strength… or strategy?"
Vector's eyes flickered, the faintest glint of thought. "Neither. Victory's born from knowing what to sacrifice before you ever step onto the field."
It wasn't an answer she expected. It wasn't an answer anyone would expect.
Trilla's expression softened not admiration yet, but curiosity. Dangerous curiosity.
"I see," she said. "Let's hope you don't plan on testing that philosophy too often."
He shrugged faintly. "Only when the situation's weird."
Her eyes narrowed. "And what counts as weird?"
"Talking to nobles who don't sound like nobles," Vector replied, deadpan.
For the first time in hours, Trilla laughed soft, sudden, unguarded. The sound startled Maki, who nearly dropped her clipboard.
As the moment lingered, the inspection horn sounded again.
Trilla straightened her posture, returning to her commander's tone. "Prepare the battalions. We move west by dawn tomorrow."
"Yes, my lady," Vector replied, crisp and respectful.
But as she walked past, she glanced back once, just once and caught him looking again.
There was something strange about it. Not affection. Not tension. Just… a quiet recognition.
The kind that said: I've seen you before. Maybe not here. Maybe not now. But somewhere, we've already crossed paths.
Furi's voice broke the silence. "You saw that, didn't you?"
Cidney groaned. "Oh, I saw it. If they start finishing each other's sentences, I'm requesting transfer."
Furi smiled faintly. "You won't. You're curious too."
Cidney crossed her arms. "Damn right I am. But if this turns into one of those slow-burn fated partnerships, I'm getting popcorn."
The sun dipped lower as the troops began to disperse.
Trilla mounted her mare again, quiet now. Maki followed behind, stealing glances at her face.
"Something on your mind, my lady?"
Trilla's tone was calm, but her eyes were elsewhere. "No. Nothing… just a name."
"Vector?" Maki guessed, smirking.
Trilla didn't answer.
But the faintest smile ghosted across her lips as the wind carried the sound of steel and laughter behind them.