Meeting Xander Fedres

The commander's tent stood at the heart of the encampment, an imposing structure that exuded authority.

Unlike the smaller, functional tents scattered around, this one was reinforced with thick fabric and heavy poles to withstand the relentless winds of winter. Its dark blue material was embroidered with the sigil of Dynasty Skyrover—a winged sword encircled by a storm.

The snow that clung to its surface melted into rivulets, reflecting the flickering light of the nearby braziers. Guarded by two stern-faced warriors, the tent emanated an unspoken rule: only those with purpose dared enter.

Farrynelle pushed the heavy flap aside, revealing an interior both practical and commanding.

The space inside was unexpectedly vast with a sturdy wooden table dominating the center. Upon it was a detailed map, marked with pins and annotations in flowing script. A brazier in the corner glowed warmly, filling the room with a soft golden light and keeping the biting cold at bay.

Banners bearing the Skyrover crest hung from the tent's supports, alongside racks of polished weapons—swords, spears, and axes.

The furniture was sparse. A cushioned chair sat behind the central table, clearly belonging to Farrynelle, while two simpler stools stood opposite. A side table held scrolls, quills, and an assortment of small, locked chests. Despite the utilitarian design, the space carried an air of regality.

Farrynelle gestured for Vastarael and Peccavi to follow her inside. As they stepped in, Vastarael immediately noted the faint scent of leather and metal, mingling with the sharper tang of cold air that still lingered. Peccavi, her crimson eyes scanning the room, instinctively clutched the Orchestral Vialex closer.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Farrynelle said, moving to her chair.

Before Vastarael could respond, his gaze landed on a familiar figure standing near the table.

It was a tall, broad-shouldered young man with blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Clad in the signature black-and-silver armor of Dynasty Fedres, the figure turned toward them with a grin that seemed out of place amidst the tent's austere atmosphere.

"Vastarael!" Xander Fedres exclaimed, his deep voice carrying a rare warmth. He stepped forward, his hand extended in a gesture of camaraderie. "It's good to see you alive, man."

Vastarael raised an eyebrow, taking the offered hand but tilting his head in curiosity.

"Alive? I wasn't aware my death was being anticipated."

Xander chuckled, shaking his head as he let go.

"In this world, you never know. Besides, you've got a knack for running into trouble." He gestured to Peccavi with a curious glance but refrained from commenting. Instead, he added, "And honestly, I'm glad you're here. We Seventh Enlightenment students have to stick together, right?"

Vastarael smirked, folding his arms. "Oh? And why's that?"

Xander leaned back against the table, crossing his arms as well.

"Because there are only three of us guys in the Seventh Enlightenment. Me, you, and Eldrigan. Everyone else" He made a sweeping gesture as if to emphasize the point. "All women. I mean, we're basically a rare species."

It took a second for the realization to settle, and when it did, Vastarael couldn't help but let out a low laugh.

"Huh. I hadn't thought about it that way, but I suppose you're right. It's not exactly an even playing field."

Peccavi, standing quietly by Vastarael's side, raised an eyebrow at the exchange but said nothing. Meanwhile, Farrynelle, seated now and watching them, allowed a small smile to grace her lips.

"Well, if we're talking about survival odds," Vastarael continued, his tone laced with dry humor, "then I'd say you and Eldrigan are lucky to have me around. Someone has to carry the team, after all."

Xander rolled his eyes but laughed nonetheless.

"Typical Vastarael. You haven't changed a bit."

"Dude, we barely know each other."

Farrynelle tapped her fingers lightly on the edge of the table, drawing their attention.

"If you're finished catching up, perhaps we can discuss why Vastarael and his... ally are here?" Her gaze flicked briefly to Peccavi.

Vastarael nodded, his expression sobering.

"Of course. But first, I should ask. What's someone like you doing with an army in the middle of winter? This isn't exactly a tourist destination."

Farrynelle leaned forward slightly, her expression sharp.

"That's a question I was going to ask you."

The room grew quiet as the weight of their respective missions settled between them, the warmth of camaraderie replaced by the cold reality of their situation.

"I'll leave that to Peccavi to explain about the Winter Labors."