Holy Alliance War Camp, Outskirts of Veidaryn
Sir Garroth's POV
I swear if one more person walks into this tent yelling, I'm going to stuff their own helmet down their throat.
"Where's the damn ink again?" I grumbled, rummaging through a pile of rolled scrolls. Maps, all useless now. Every formation we drew last week had been torn apart like parchment in the wind.
"Over there. Behind the wine." Sir Fenric, the lanky knight who thinks he's clever, pointed with the tip of his sword. "Because obviously the most important thing right now... is calligraphy."
"Don't test me, Fenric."
The flap of the tent burst open. In came Lady Mirelda, her robes muddy, her curls frizzed by magic backlash. She looked like she'd fought a whirlwind. Knowing her, she probably had.
"She's done it again", she announced, tossing a folded parchment onto the table like it was a rotten fish.
Captain Lennox's POV
I unfolded the message with more caution than it probably deserved. The seal of the demon court, Ayaka Rin's favorite wax, the color of dried blood. My gut twisted before I even read the first line.
"I do hope this letter finds you all in slightly better spirits than your scouts. They've been most… talkative."
"Gods", I muttered.
Fenric leaned over my shoulder. "I like how she punctuates with threats."
"She's got style", Mirelda added dryly. "We're losing to someone with style."
Mirelda's POV
It was worse than losing a battle. It was watching a strategy unravel your own mind. She knew what scared us. Not just swords. Doubt. Paranoia. She was carving cracks in our unity like a mason sculpting stone.
"How is she always one step ahead?" I asked aloud.
Garroth snorted. "She's not. We're just one step behind."
"Oh, well that clears everything up", Fenric muttered, biting into a hard biscuit and nearly breaking a tooth. "Remind me again why the rations are harder than our morale?"
"You want softer bread, go kill a demon chef", I snapped. "And stop eating during briefings!"
"Briefing?" he said with his mouth full. "I thought this was group therapy."
Fenric's POV
Look, someone had to keep things light. Everyone was walking around like funeral statues.
I tapped the map table. "We're all thinking the same thing, right? She's not just targeting our fronts. She's targeting us. Individually."
Garroth sighed. "She knows our habits. Our decision-making patterns. She knows Mirelda's magic runs dry after consecutive enchantments, and Lennox's flank favors the right when cornered."
"She even knew where the tents were shifted after last week's storm", Mirelda muttered, eyes narrowing.
"Which means she has a spy", I concluded. "Or several. Maybe one of us."
Everyone went quiet.
Captain Lennox's POV
That silence hung like poison mist. We'd danced around this for days, Ayaka Rin wasn't just out-thinking us. She was inside the Alliance, maybe even in this tent.
Garroth's hand moved toward his sword.
"Don't", I warned.
He didn't stop. "I'm just being ready."
"For what? Beheading someone because they cough at the wrong time?"
"This is what she wants", Mirelda snapped. "Us turning on each other. If we give in to it now, she's already won."
Sir Garroth's POV
She's already won half of it, I thought.
My temper has kept me alive in three wars, but now it was a liability. Every time I looked at my comrades, I saw questions. Who leaked our patrol route? Who let the message birds vanish? Who reported our supply weakness?
The door flap opened again. One of our runners, out of breath.
"Report from the western outpost", he gasped. "They're retreating. No survivors."
"Another one?" I barked.
He nodded, pale. "Left behind a banner. She pinned it with a dagger. It says, 'Your pieces fall one by one. Will you be the next?'"
Fenric's POV
I wanted to laugh. Not because it was funny, gods, no, but because it was the only defense I had left. That bitter, hollow laugh that made your eyes sting more than your throat.
"She's writing poetry now."
"You think this is funny?" Garroth bellowed.
"No. I think it's tragic. And we're in a tragedy led by a strategist who used to be one of us."
Mirelda's POV
And that's what stung.
I remembered her once. Ayaka Rin, the quiet girl with dirt on her shoes and fire in her eyes. The strategist who had tried to protect civilians more than territory. Betrayed by her own. And now, the monster who would watch the world burn from a throne of bones.
I stepped toward the table and unrolled a new map.
"If she's going to play chess, then we play it too. We just stop acting like pawns."
Lennox raised a brow. "You have a move?"
"Maybe. But we'll need bait."
Fenric grinned. "I volunteer as tribute."
"You're too annoying to be valuable bait", Garroth muttered.
"But annoying enough to distract her. That's my power."
We laughed. It was brief, but real. That sound, desperate and ridiculous, might be the last bit of humanity we had left.
Collective POV (The Holy Alliance)
We didn't know who we could trust. We didn't know where she would strike next. But we knew one thing:
Ayaka Rin had underestimated something. Not our strength, not our unity.
Our stubbornness.
And that... might just be enough.