Northern Preparations : Ethan vs. the Ladies

The journey northward stretched over ten days, a logistical challenge due to the size of the battalion accompanying them. The delays frustrated Magda, but she masked her impatience, knowing the importance of maintaining order and safety.

Each night, the camp bustled with activity as the guards erected tents and prepared meals. The hum of the horseless carriages settled into the rhythm of the journey, a constant reminder of Micheal's meticulous care.

Unbeknownst to Magda, a shadow trailed them. Lysander, an operative of the Emperor's inner circle, moved with practiced stealth, his presence undetected even by the sharp-eyed Vivian. His mission was clear—ensure the princess's safety without her knowledge, a precaution Raphael had deemed necessary.

Location: Duchy of Altona, Valenhart Castle

By the time the gates of the Valenhart Estate came into view, the morning sun had risen high, casting the frost-covered grounds in a dazzling light.

The grandeur of the castle was imposing, its spires reaching skyward as if defying the icy grip of the North. The carriages rolled to a stop, their engines quieting as the guards disembarked with practiced precision.

Magda stepped out, her presence commanding despite the weariness of the journey. Her long coat billowed slightly in the cold breeze, and her crimson eyes swept over the assembled household staff. The Imperial Guards flanked her, their polished armor gleaming as they formed a protective barrier around the princess.

The gates swung open, revealing Flora rushing toward the courtyard. Her golden hair caught the sunlight, cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkled with emotion as she approached Magda, her steps quick despite the frost beneath her feet.

"You came," Flora whispered, her voice thick with gratitude as she enveloped Magda in a warm embrace.

Magda's gaze softened, and she returned the hug with equal warmth. "Of course I did. I'll ensure your marriage is legitimized, Flora," she said gently. "And I'll investigate what's happening in the North."

Behind them, Vivian disembarked, her stoic expression unwavering as she surveyed the estate. Her hand rested lightly on the hilt of her sword, her emerald eyes scanning for any signs of potential danger. She noticed Calista approaching, her auburn hair tied back in a neat braid. Calista's smile was warm, her tone teasing as she greeted them.

"Welcome back, Your Highness," Calista said with a grin. "And Dame Vivian, I see you've made it unscathed. Don't worry, I'll let the Mage Wing know their most valuable protector is here."

Vivian's lips twitched faintly, though she said nothing, her focus remaining on the task at hand.

As the guards began unloading supplies and the estate's stewards hurried to make accommodations, Magda felt the weight of her duty settle more heavily on her shoulders. The anticipation in the air was palpable, a mix of awe and apprehension from the household staff as they recognized the gravity of her arrival.

Flora lingered by her side, her presence a comforting reminder of familial bonds. For Magda, the North was not just a mission—it was a return to her mother's roots, a journey into the heart of loyalty and legacy.

Location: Northern Border Encampment

The wastelands stretched endlessly before Ethan, a barren expanse carved with the scars of countless beast tides.

The jagged terrain bore the marks of chaos—burned-out patches of earth and shattered boulders, each a testament to battles fought against the maddened creatures driven by relentless mana fluctuations. The air itself felt heavy, charged with the raw energy of instability, as though the world teetered on the edge of losing control.

Ethan sat astride his warhorse at the crest of a hill overlooking the encampment. His sharp blue eyes scanned the bustling scene below.

Rows of tents stretched into the horizon, soldiers moving with precision as they prepared for the next wave of attacks. The Shelb battalion's presence was unmistakable—armor polished to a mirror sheen, banners emblazoned with the crest of the Southwest Duchy fluttering proudly in the cold northern wind.

Ethan exuded the air of a seasoned commander. His golden-blonde hair, cropped short for practicality, gleamed under the pale sunlight. Clad in the practical yet elegant armor of the Shelb military, his well-built frame and disciplined posture reflected years of rigorous training.

His arrival was a rallying point for his soldiers, their salutes crisp and reverent as he passed through the camp.

Though his presence bolstered morale, a storm brewed within Ethan. His jaw tightened as he dismounted, his boots crunching against the frostbitten ground.

Fredrick's call for aid had been expected—Shelb and Valenhart had long upheld their alliance, their combined forces a formidable line of defense against the North's many dangers.

But what Ethan hadn't anticipated was the presence of two women who had no place in such peril.

His stomach twisted as his gaze locked on Magda.

The Imperial Princess moved through the camp with the confidence of someone who had grown up surrounded by power. Her ink-black hair, styled in a loose yet elegant braid, swayed with each purposeful step. Her crimson eyes, mirrors of the Emperor's piercing gaze, scanned the tents and supplies as she directed her guards.

She exuded authority, yet to Ethan, she was still the youngest member of his family by marriage—a girl who should be safe in Shelb or the Imperial Palace, not here in the chaos of the North.

Ethan's frustration deepened as he spotted Dame Vivian by Magda's side. The auburn-haired knight moved with practiced precision, her emerald eyes sharp as she observed the surroundings.

Vivian's presence was as much a reassurance as it was a source of irritation. She was loyal and capable, yet Ethan's chest tightened with the weight of seeing her here, so close to danger.

He strode toward them, his voice cutting through the hum of activity. "What are you doing here, Magda?"

Magda turned at the sound of his voice, startled but composed. She inclined her head slightly, her expression calm. "Ethan," she said, her tone polite yet firm. "I'm here with my guards. The situation in the North demands attention."

"Attention, yes," Ethan snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "But not yours. You're placing yourself—and the Empire—at risk by being here."

His blue eyes darted briefly to Vivian, his chest tightening inexplicably. "You should be in the palace or Shelb."

Vivian stepped forward, her tone even but unyielding. "She is the Imperial Princess, Commander Ethan. Her presence here is justified."

Ethan's jaw clenched as he turned to her, his voice lowering. "You should have stopped her, Dame Vivian. Your duty is to protect her, not to let her throw herself into danger."

Vivian's emerald eyes flashed with quiet intensity. "And I am protecting her, Commander. By being here with her."

The brief exchange drew glances from the nearby soldiers, but none dared intervene. Ethan's heart hammered in his chest, his frustration mounting.

This wasn't just about the danger to Magda—it was the overwhelming presence of both women in a place where death loomed close. The storm of emotions swirling within him was a battle he couldn't quite name, one that left him unsettled as he turned sharply on his heel and stalked away.

Location: Valenhart army, strategy tent

Later that afternoon, the strategy tent bustled with activity as the Valenhart officers gathered around the large wooden table in the center. A detailed map of the surrounding terrain lay unfurled before them, dotted with red markers indicating recent beast attacks. The Northern Border Encampment was a flurry of logistics, and this room served as its nerve center.

Ethan stood stiffly at one end of the table, his piercing blue eyes scanning the markers with growing unease. His disciplined mind was already formulating strategies, but his thoughts were interrupted as Vivian leaned forward, her auburn braid brushing over her shoulder as she pointed to the map.

"Your formations are too rigid," she said bluntly, her emerald eyes unwavering as they met Ethan's. "The beasts are targeting the flanks. You're leaving openings that could devastate your lines if exploited during a surge."

Ethan's jaw tightened. "My troops are disciplined. They'll hold their positions. Overextending to cover the flanks will weaken the core."

"And if the flanks collapse?" Vivian countered, her voice sharp but measured. "You'll have no core left to hold."

The room fell silent as tension crackled between them. Valenhart officers exchanged wary glances, some nodding subtly in agreement with Vivian's assessment. Ethan's irritation mounted—not just at her critique but at the disarming precision of her observations. She was questioning his methods, and worse, she was right.

Vivian didn't stop there. She turned to Fredrick's second-in-command, gesturing to a cluster of markers on the eastern side of the map. "You've underestimated the creatures' mobility in this area," she said. "The terrain here favors guerilla tactics. You should consider deploying smaller units to ambush them rather than relying solely on static defenses."

Fredrick's officers, far from bristling at her critique, leaned in closer, nodding thoughtfully as they considered her suggestions. One of them, a seasoned captain, spoke up. "She's right. We've seen the creatures adapt faster than expected. Guerilla tactics could work here."

Ethan's irritation deepened as he watched the Valenharts embrace Vivian's critiques without hesitation. His own pride warred with the undeniable effectiveness of her input. "You seem to have no shortage of opinions, Dame Vivian," he said, his tone clipped.

Vivian turned to him, her emerald eyes calm but piercing. "I offer suggestions where they're needed, Commander. Whether or not you take them is your choice."

Fredrick, standing at the head of the table, raised a hand to break the tension. His gray eyes flicked between Ethan and Vivian. "Let's adjust our plans accordingly. We can't afford to let personal differences cloud our strategy."

Ethan inclined his head reluctantly, stepping back as the officers began discussing Vivian's recommendations in earnest. He crossed his arms, his mind churning with frustration. Why did her words bother him so much? Why did her presence unsettle him in a way no one else ever had?

As the meeting progressed, Ethan's irritation began to give way to curiosity. He listened more intently as Fredrick's officers discussed Vivian's track record, their words painting a picture of someone who had earned her place through sheer competence.

"She was part of the Imperial army's reinforcements three years ago," one officer said, his voice filled with admiration. "Held the southern flank during the Siege of Bellford. She didn't just hold the line—she pushed them back. The Imperial banner stood because of her."

Ethan's gaze flicked to Vivian, who was now calmly discussing deployment strategies with another officer. Her confident posture and the ease with which she handled the room belied her earlier sharpness with him. For a moment, he allowed himself to see her as more than just a source of irritation.

She's proven herself, he thought grudgingly. And yet, her presence unsettles me more than it should.

As the meeting concluded, Ethan remained by the map, his mind still grappling with the realization that Vivian wasn't just capable—she was exceptional. But it wasn't just her competence that bothered him. It was the way she challenged him, forced him to question his own approach, and the way her words lingered in his thoughts long after they were spoken.

As the officers filed out, Ethan caught Vivian's eye. She paused briefly, her expression unreadable, before turning and leaving the tent. Ethan's chest tightened as he watched her go, the storm of emotions within him growing ever more tumultuous.

Location: Northern Border Encampment, Ethan's private quarters

The encampment had settled into a restless quiet under the starlit sky. The flickering light of campfires dotted the wastelands, their glow barely penetrating the oppressive darkness that clung to the barren terrain.

Inside his tent, Ethan sat at a small wooden desk, his shoulders slumped as he stared at the parchment before him. His blue eyes, usually so sharp and clear, were clouded with doubt and unease.

The words he had written stared back at him:

Micheal,

Magda is here in the North. She insists she's safe, but the situation is volatile. I thought you should know.

Ethan tapped his pen against the desk, his mind a tangle of conflicting thoughts. He had drafted this letter more times than he could count, yet the decision to send it felt heavier than any battle he had fought.

He could still hear Vivian's voice from earlier that day, firm and resolute. "If you send that letter, you'll undermine her trust in you."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his golden-blonde hair.

His frustration wasn't just with Magda's presence—it was the emotions roiling within him, emotions that seemed to center on Vivian more than anyone else.

All his life, he had been told that Flora was the ideal woman. Graceful, poised, and perfect. He had grown up believing that Flora was his unattainable ideal, nurturing what he thought was a quiet, unrequited crush.

But Vivian was different.

Vivian wasn't perfect in the traditional sense. She wasn't soft-spoken or demure; she was direct, fiery, and unrelenting. She challenged him in ways he wasn't used to—her sharp mind cutting through his strategies, her unwavering resolve standing firm against his frustrations. She made him question not only his methods but also himself.

Why do I think about her so much? The question gnawed at him, an unwelcome intruder in his thoughts. It wasn't just her competence or her bluntness—it was the way she carried herself, the way she faced danger with unflinching resolve. It was the way her emerald eyes seemed to see through him, peeling back the layers he had so carefully constructed over the years.

Ethan exhaled heavily, his gaze drifting back to the letter. Magda's presence in the North was a risk, and he couldn't shake the memory of the night he had stood guard over Micheal's bed.

Micheal had been shattered, convinced that Magda was lost to him forever. Ethan had never seen his brother so vulnerable, and the memory of those long, sleepless nights still haunted him.

What would happen to Micheal if something happened to Magda?

The thought chilled him, and his grip on the pen tightened. His duty was to protect his family, to ensure their safety even in the face of impossible odds.

But Magda was stubborn, just like their father. She would never forgive him if she thought he had undermined her authority or betrayed her trust.

And then there was Vivian. Ethan's chest tightened as he thought of her, the weight of his concern for her mingling with his guilt. He wanted her safe, away from this dangerous place. But how could he ask her to leave when she stood unwavering by Magda's side, bound by loyalty and duty?

Ethan folded the letter carefully, sealing it with the Shelb crest. His decision was made, even as doubt clawed at the edges of his resolve. Handing the letter to a courier, he watched as the rider disappeared into the night, the sound of hooves fading into the distance.

Sitting back in his chair, Ethan ran a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping into his bones. His thoughts drifted once more to Vivian. Why did her words carry so much weight? Why did she dominate his thoughts more than Flora ever had?

As the lantern flickered beside him, Ethan closed his eyes, his mind circling back to the same question that had haunted him since he arrived at the encampment: Why did she matter so much?

The answer, elusive as it was, remained just out of reach, leaving Ethan to wrestle with the storm of emotions swirling within him.