Han made his way back to the command tent where General Remin was stationed.
The large canvas structure stood apart from the others, marked by the imperial standards that fluttered in the morning breeze.
Two guards flanked the entrance, their postures stiffening as Han approached. They recognised him as the Count of Godeylet and stepped aside, allowing him entry without challenge.
He made his wyvern and the rest of the beasts stay aside, a little away from the campsite.
Han walked into the tent.
Inside, Remin hunched over a table strewn with maps and reports. His weathered face was drawn with concentration as he assessed the aftermath of the battle. Casualty reports, damage assessnts, and strategic considerations all demanded his attention.
The general glanced up briefly as Han entered.
"Jolthar has left," Han announced without preamble. "The Matriarch of Blue Rose and the Dragon Queen departed with him."
Remin's expression remained neutral, though his eyes narrowed slightly at the information.
On the table before them lay grim trophies of war—Yilar's severed limbs and a leather pouch, evidence of the brutality that had unfolded on the battlefield. Han's gaze lingered on these remnants, a visible reminder of how quickly power could shift, of how swiftly the mighty could fall.
Yilar's remains were now all the proof that was left to prove the existence of Nynthralls among the humans. They have co this far into the human lands, which they haven't done in years.
Remin has to show them to the emperor, so he ordered them to bring them.
Han said, "He buried that barbarian's chieftain. Soldiers are talking about him, and they are angry."
Han saw it all, but he didn't say anything. Even he was puzzled as to why he did that. It had roused rumours and doubts among the soldiers. No one dared to say anything in front of Jolthar, as they all saw how terrifying he was.
Remin looked at Han and said, "He is just a child. His actions too."
Han understood the aning of the words, but Han didn't think so. He also knew that Jolthar was a teenager, but he had a different opinion. He thought that Jolthar was anything but a child. Those words and his gaze – Han could never tell what he was thinking.
The tent flap rustled, drawing both n's attention.
A figure entered, moving with obvious pain. Bandages wrapped around his torso, arms, and one side of his face, spots of crimson seeping through the white cloth.
Despite his injured state, the man carried himself with the dignity of a seasoned warrior.
"Wymar," Han exclaid in surprise, recognizing Remin's subordinate and his own long-ti friend. "What are you doing here? Are you all right?"
Han quickly went and helped him.
Wymar had been grievously wounded fighting alongside Jolthar against one of the more dangerous thing-like creatures. The encounter had left him near death, and he had been transported to Han's castle for treatnt by the healers.
The injured man attempted to straighten his posture as he approached General Remin, preparing to offer a formal greeting to his superior, but Remin raised a hand to stop him.
"At ease," the general commanded. "Why have you left your sickbed? I was planning to visit you once matters here were settled."
Wymar grimaced; whether from pain or embarrassnt was difficult to tell. "I couldn't stay in the castle, not after I heard the war was ongoing here," he explained, his voice raspy and strained.
Remin frowned at his subordinate's recklessness but said nothing further.
Instead, he gestured to a nearby soldier. "Bring a chair for him," he ordered.
The soldier quickly complied, procuring a sturdy wooden chair.
Han still held him, supporting his friend as he lowered himself gingerly onto the seat. Even this small movent caused Wymar to wince, fresh pain flashing across his features.
"Where is that boy?" Wymar asked once he had settled, his question requiring no further clarification. Both Han and Remin knew exactly whom he ant.
"He just left," Han replied with a slight shrug.
"What? Why?" Wymar's surprise was evident, his eyebrows rising above the bandages that partially covered his face.
Neither Remin nor Han had a satisfactory answer, responding only with mirrored shrugs.
"He isn't a typical imperial soldier, that's for sure," Remin observed, his tone neutral but carrying undertones of suspicion.
Wymar snorted, the sound sharp with derision. "He ca on his own terms and left on his own too. What a brat."
"He ca here, alone. Even when the imperial order asked the barony to send 300 n, he ca alone." Wymar looked at Remin and continued, "My lord, you know what he said when I asked him?"
"He claid that he alone was enough—that he was three hundred n in one."
That remark drew a chuckle from Remin.
Han and Wymar both looked at Remin to see Remin smiling, which they hadn't done in a long ti.
"My lord, you…" Wymar.
Remin then said, "Wymar, that young man, is quite an interesting lad."
The tent fell silent after that statent, and Remin got back to checking the pouch of Yilar while Han proceeded to recount the events that had transpired after Wymar had been taken to the castle—how Jolthar had confronted Dagur and defeated him using strange powers, how he had been sucked into the ancient pillar and sohow absorbed the beast king's essence, how the beasts had acknowledged him as their new master, and most surprisingly, how both the Matriarch of Blue Rose and the Dragon Queen Yoana had shown personal interest in the silver-haired Kaezhlar.
As there were only three of them, Han didn't hide anything from his friend.
As the tale unfolded, Wymar's expression transford from scepticism to astonishnt. "Matriarch of Blue Rose!" he exclaid, his voice rising despite his injuries. "She is interested in him? Heavens!!"
The revelation seed to affect him more than any other detail of the incredible story. "My lord," he continued, turning to Remin with newfound urgency, "why did you let him live? He should have reported to you. What an ill-mannered brat!" Wymar spat.
Then he said with newfound curiosity, "We should take him under your wing. I've seen him fight—he is like...my lord, he will be a great swordsman; we should take him into our wing."
Remin nodded slowly, acknowledging Wymar's assessnt without matching his enthusiasm. "I know, Wymar. He has potential, but we can't ta him." The general's words were asured, revealing his careful consideration of the unusual warrior.
Wymar leaned forward, wincing as the movent pulled at his wounds. "My lord, you just say the word, and I will make him bow to you."
The offer carried the weight of absolute loyalty—the devotion of a man who had served the man without question for decades.
Han was surprised to hear Wymar and his interest in Jolthar. Sure, Jolthar was an unusual young man, but why was he so hung up on him?
Is he confident in his ability to bend him?
Remin simply smiled and shook his head. Rather than entertaining Wymar's proposal, he redirected the conversation. "You just take your rest for now," he advised, his tone gentle but firm, closing the subject.
The implication hung in the air, unspoken but understood by all present.
Jolthar of the Kaezhlar was not soone to be controlled or commanded—not by Wymar, not by Remin, perhaps not by anyone.
The youth who had arrived unheralded and departed on his own terms had demonstrated powers beyond their understanding. He had faced their enemies and aided their cause but remained fundantally separate from the imperial hierarchy.
If it wasn't any other general, maybe they would have claid his actions were unlawful and made him a criminal now and should have ordered to arrest of him. But Remin didn't do so, as he had plans of his own.
As morning light filtered through the tent canvas, casting long shadows across the war table, the three n fell into contemplative silence.
The aftermath of battle surrounded them—reports of the dead, the wounded, and the missing—but their thoughts centred on the silver-haired swordsman who had altered the course of events with his unexpected appearance and equally unexpected departure.
In the imperial calculus of power, Jolthar represented both opportunity and threat—an unknown quantity whose allegiance could tip the scales of conflict yet to co. He had himself to be a great asset, for them to have.
Now, he had beco a crucial chess piece in their grand ga, a tool to be wielded by those who orchestrated wars from the shadows.
The Great Generals—calculating and ruthless—had turned their gaze upon Jolthar.
One of them was Remin, a man known for his sharp mind and unwavering pragmatism. He did not see warriors as n but as assets, pieces to be positioned and sacrificed when necessary. And then there was Iorina—though she had slipped away quietly, she was far from indifferent.
She had given orders for a thorough investigation into Jolthar. A re soldier rising through the ranks was nothing new, but what intrigued her was the Matriarch Raayani's interest in him. That alone was enough to warrant her attention. If soone as formidable as Raayani found worth in the boy, then perhaps he was more than just another reckless upstart.
Iorina had no patience for unrefined talent—either he was a force worth nurturing or an anomaly to be eliminated. And soon, she would know exactly which.
And sowhere beyond the camp, that very young man walked alone, bearing powers ancient and new, his path diverging from theirs but perhaps destined to cross again in days to co.
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