Strength in Unity: Omnious news

Location: Valenhart Estate, Command Tent

The large command tent, illuminated by the flickering light of mana-lamps, hummed with quiet tension. The air inside carried the sharp scent of ink, leather, and sweat from the soldiers bustling outside. Maps and strategic markers covered the central table, their meticulous placement reflecting the gravity of the unfolding crisis.

Fredrick von Altona stood at the table's edge, his sharp gray eyes scanning the contents of a freshly delivered missive. The light from a dim mana-lamp accentuated the furrow in his brow, a clear sign of the gravity of the message.

Around him, aides moved briskly, their boots muffled against the canvas floor, though none dared to interrupt the Duke's concentration.

"Another pandemic?" Fredrick murmured, his voice low but heavy with skepticism.

The missive described a remote village near the northern wastelands that had declared an outbreak and requested doctors weeks prior.

Medical teams had been sent, but their distress signals came shortly after arrival. By the time reinforcements reached the isolated settlement, it was too late.

Fredrick's gaze hardened as he read the final lines. The village was no longer inhabited. It had been torn apart by beasts.

"They didn't even eat the bodies," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.

This was no ordinary beast tide. Beasts attacking humans without consuming them was an anomaly. Such events occurred only when beasts fled from an unknown predator or acted under unnatural compulsion. This was something far more sinister.

"My Lord," an aide interrupted hesitantly, holding out another missive. Fredrick gestured for him to proceed.

The aide placed the document on the table and stepped back respectfully. Fredrick opened it swiftly, his sharp eyes scanning its contents.

"Beasts killing each other?" he said aloud, his voice tinged with incredulity.

The report detailed the aftermath of a beast tide—further down from the devastated village, the creatures had turned on one another. Corpses littered the area, their injuries indicative of frenzied combat. The image painted by the scout's words was unsettling.

Fredrick leaned heavily on the table, his fingers gripping its edge. The implications of such behavior churned uneasily in his mind. Beast tides typically followed predictable patterns: hunger, fear, or migration. But this? This was chaos without reason.

Before he could process the information fully, another scout burst into the tent, saluting sharply. "My Lord, urgent news!"

Fredrick nodded curtly. "Speak."

The scout's face was pale, his voice steady but strained. "Another beast tide has been sighted, forming near the pass between the northern territory and Castle Altona. Initial estimates suggest at least 200 green-level beasts, with several yellow-level beasts among them. It's moving rapidly and is expected to reach the villages surrounding the castle within three days."

Fredrick's jaw tightened as he processed the report. His mind calculated the numbers, the speed, and the implications. With its current momentum, the tide would grow larger, its strength capable of overwhelming the local defenses.

"Three days," Fredrick repeated, his voice grim. He turned to one of his aides. "Fetch Commander Ethan and Dame Vivian immediately. Tell them I need their strategy for this within the hour."

The aide nodded and hurried out, leaving Fredrick alone with his thoughts. He stared at the maps before him, his fingers tracing the path of the incoming tide. Between handling the post-wedding bureaucracies and this growing threat, the burden of leadership pressed heavily on his shoulders. Yet, there was no room for hesitation.

"If this isn't handled swiftly," Fredrick murmured to himself, "it won't just be the villages that suffer."

He straightened, his resolve hardening. Time was short, and the stakes were impossibly high.

Location: Northern Encampment, Command Tent of the Three Armies

The stark encampment lay nestled between jagged cliffs and dense snow covered pine forests, its tents battered by icy winds that carried the scent of damp earth and pine. Soldiers moved with tense purpose, their breath visible in the frigid air. At the heart of the camp, the command tent stood as a hub of activity, its interior warmed only by the heat of mana-lamps and the energy of heated debates.

Ethan von Shelb, Commander of the Shelb army, stood at the head of the central table, his posture composed despite the tension crackling in the air.

Opposite him, Dame Vivian Whitestone of the Imperial Guard Captain, her emerald eyes flashing with barely restrained fury, leaned forward, her presence commanding.

Beside them, Fredrick Valenhart, Duke von Altona, observed from his seat with measured calm.

Maps and tactical plans were strewn across the table, the weight of the current crisis reflected in every crease and marker.

"We need to act decisively," Ethan stated, his deep voice steady but firm. "Using the gorge as a trap is the only feasible way to deal with the high-level beasts without losing too many soldiers."

Vivian slammed her gloved hand on the table, her voice cutting through the din like a blade. "And what about the civilians? That fortress is more than stone walls, Ethan. It's the last defense between them and annihilation! Without it, we're leaving families—children—to face beasts they can't hope to fight!"

Ethan's jaw tightened, but he held his ground. "The fortress won't hold against red or even orange-level beasts. Defending it will cost us more soldiers than we can afford to lose."

"Your calculations disregard human lives!" Vivian snapped, her tone laced with a venom that made the other commanders flinch. "You're so focused on efficiency, you forget what we're fighting for."

Fredrick raised a hand to calm the rising tempers. "Both points have merit," he said carefully, his gray eyes moving between the two. "But time isn't on our side. We need a plan."

Ethan sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "We use tamed goats as bait to lure the beasts into the gorge. Once they're concentrated, we blow the passage. The high-level beasts will fall, and the tide will break."

Vivian crossed her arms, her glare unwavering. "And the low-level beasts that slip through? What happens when they reach the villages?"

Ethan hesitated, his silence giving Vivian the opening she needed. "You're only good at bottling things up, Ethan," she said coldly, her voice dropping just enough for only him to hear. "Your plans ignore the cost others will bear."

Ethan's blue eyes met hers, his calm cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of frustration. "I don't ignore the cost," he replied quietly, his voice steady but strained. "I bear it. Every single one." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken weight.

Fredrick cleared his throat, cutting through the silence. "We'll proceed with the gorge plan. Ensure the civilians are warned and relocated as a precaution. Dismissed."

Vivian spun on her heel and stormed out, her cape billowing behind her. Ethan lingered, his hands gripping the edge of the table. His usual composure faltered for a moment as he exhaled heavily. The commanders murmured among themselves, their hushed voices praising his decisive strategy.

Outside, Vivian paused, the cold air biting at her flushed cheeks. Despite her anger, she couldn't ignore the pang of guilt twisting in her chest. Ethan's calm resolve, even under her sharp words, only deepened her frustration—not at him, but at herself.

She knew Ethan would only ever look at the big picture. Sacrifices didn't mean much to a man willing to bury his own desires for the Duchy of Shelb. As she stood there, her breath visible in the frosty air, she wondered what she really meant to him.

"Does he even see me?" she whispered to the wind, the words barely audible.

Back in the tent, Ethan straightened, his calm mask slipping back into place. The voices around him were filled with admiration for his leadership, but his mind was elsewhere. His thoughts lingered on Vivian's fiery defiance, and a quiet worry gnawed at his heart.

"She's too kind for this," he thought, a pang of guilt weaving through his chest. No matter how much she fought him, he couldn't shake the fear that her compassion would become her greatest vulnerability in the battles to come. Ethan closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly.

He told himself she was still the Vivian he had grown up with, his fierce childhood best friend who never backed down from a challenge. That was all it was, he reasoned. He treated her differently now not because of anything deeper but because their shared history demanded it. Yet, even as he reassured himself, a gnawing unease stirred within him.

"And if I let her fall," he thought, "what kind of man does that make me?"