After Kael stepped out of the tent, the air inside grew still, heavy with decisions yet to be made. Martina De Luther didn't speak for a while. Her gaze lingered on the map spread before her, the lines and markers seeming to shift under the weight of her thoughts.
She slowly walked around the table, her armored boots echoing with each step. The flickering lantern above cast sharp shadows on her face, but the tension in her expression was softer now—pensive.
Two months of marching, hunting rebels, and crushing bandit forces along the southern border. And now, just as the region had begun to settle, word came from the capital—her father, the Blood Sovereign, had taken a serious turn in health.
Time was running short.
She knew the court would summon her soon. Internal power struggles would erupt the moment the Sovereign's breath grew faint. Before she was dragged into the viper's den of politics, she had two loose ends to deal with.
The first was the sea.
