The detachment assembled at dawn, banners snapping in the cold wind. But this time, the soldiers were not alone. Courtiers and noble observers rode behind the column, their silken cloaks fluttering, their eyes sharp with judgment.
Kael felt their gaze like a weight. Every command, every gesture would be measured, dissected, whispered about in marble halls. He was no longer fighting rebels alone , he was fighting perception.
Rowan rode at the front, his smile polished, his voice carrying easily to the nobles.
"Watch closely," he said. "You will see how recklessness masquerades as courage."
Kael's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Garrick's voice echoed in his mind.
The army pressed westward, through villages scarred by rebellion. Doors were barred, windows shuttered. Children watched from alleys, their eyes wide with fear.
Kael dismounted, walking among them. He offered bread from his own rations, spoke gently, asked nothing in return. Some villagers accepted, others turned away.
The nobles scoffed. "Wasting supplies," one muttered. Rowan's smirk widened.
But Garrick's eyes gleamed with approval. "You are not only fighting rebels," he said quietly. "You are fighting despair. Feed them, and they may remember hope."
---
At dusk, scouts reported rebel movement near the river crossing. Kael ordered a cautious advance, but Rowan countered loudly.
"Strike now! Show them the Empire's strength!"
The nobles murmured agreement, eager for spectacle. Kael hesitated. The terrain was wrong it was too narrow and too exposed.
He raised his hand. "Hold. We wait for nightfall."
Rowan's smirk faltered, but only for a moment. "Cowardice," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "The court will see it."
Kael ignored him. He trusted his instincts.
When darkness fell, rebels struck with mantis riders leaping from the riverbanks, beetles charging across the shallows.
Kael's command was swift. "Shields! Hold the line! Archers, fire!"
The soldiers obeyed, their movements steady. Tharos's wings ignited, casting ember light across the water. Arrows blazed in the glow, striking true.
Rowan's trap had failed. The nobles watched in stunned silence as Kael's caution turned into victory.
After the battle, Garrick approached, his limp heavier, his face grim but proud.
"You chose patience over pride. That is command. Rowan wanted a spectacle. You gave them survival."
Kael nodded, though doubt lingered. "But the nobles saw hesitation."
"Let them," Garrick said. "Hesitation that saves lives is not weakness. It is wisdom."
In the camp that night, soldiers gathered around Kael. Some offered quiet words of thanks, others simply sat near him, their presence a silent show of trust.
Kael felt the shift. Doubt still lingered, but loyalty was growing. Slowly, steadily, he was becoming more than a recruit.
Tharos pressed his beak against Kael's shoulder, ember eyes glowing. The fire spreads. Not in destruction, but in endurance.
Kael closed his eyes. He knew the storm was far from over. But for the first time, he felt the weight of command settling on his shoulders not as a burden, but as a calling.