The return from the Whispering River was not a retreat, but a slow, majestic demonstration of unyielding northern power.
Max’s pathetic attempt to intimidate us at the riverbank had crumbled before the entire border garrison, leaving the southern Alpha humiliated on the frozen shore. Yet, as our war host passed under the Citadel's colossal stone portcullis, a heavy, watchful quiet hung over the inner courtyards.
While the northern warlords and imperial knights celebrated our bloodless victory in the lower barracks, I knew that a cornered, desperate beast like Max—guided by Olivia’s poisonous mind—would not simply retreat into the shadows and weep.
Having failed to break us with open military threats and public paper rumors, they would inevitably turn to the knife in the dark.
Inside th
