*** Vesuvian - Council Room ***

"There have been sightings of a huge army currently on the north of the border; some of the scouts even reported that a few cavalrymen had entered the duke's domain."

"They're all bearing the flags of Arethrus, it means their planning a war."

"Not only that, with the information we have right now, we have all the reason to suspect this is a war that is waiting to happen."

Bjorn's council began bickering and debating, each expressing their opinions and stance on the current situation.

The army stationed there was large, and not only that, it was highly prepared, with most of its ranks completely outclassing the Thirell Duchy's equipment.

It was an army they were all familiar with; everyone in the kingdom was. It was Marquis Raven's signature force, one that he had led over countless campaigns over the years.

There was no mistaking it; it was a force that planned to completely overwhelm the duchy and invade it.

"Should we send in reinforcements to the duke?"

"No, it's too risky, it'll lead our own lands undefended and weakened..."

The talks continued, minutes passing as no agreement came; it was a stalemate on both sides, each one presenting good arguments, no one had the advantage.

Until...

"I'm sorry for being late."

Bjorn entered the room, already wearing his signature outfit of war, steel plate mantled with bear fur, a bear he had killed singlehandedly as a child; it was a northman's rite of passage.

One that he had completed without issue.

The bear of the south.

"My lord!"

All of Bjorn's council stood up and bowed.

"We'll be defending our territory."

Bjorn answered bluntly, sitting down in his chair as he addressed all his men in a serious and cautious tone.

"The duke had ordered us to stay and defend."

"What!?"

Bjorn's generals and commanders reacted in surprise. Such a huge crusading force, yet he asks them to defend their own territory instead of reinforcing the capital?

It was either benevolence or idiocy, but with how they saw Justinian act before, it was obvious to them it was neither.

It was merely plain pragmatism and genius.

"Don't worry, as soon as we confirm we aren't the primary target, we'll defend the capital as quickly as we can."

Bjorn replied to ease their concern; they had already abandoned Justinian once during the rebellion, and they weren't keen on having it happen again.

"But what about your daughter, my lord? Isn't Lord Justinian her... lover?"

"I'm already well aware of that." Bjorn pinched the bridge of his nose, but instead of full annoyance or exasperation, he had a small smirk on his face.

Even though it was risky and terrifying to have Cassia join Justinian in the upcoming war, it was also the safest.

Justinian, as of now, was far better equipped than he; if any place would be safe for his daughter, it was no other than to be by his side.

"She already expressed her concern to me; I had her head to Snowkeep with a small regiment."

Bjorn stood up, deciding that their small conversation was already enough to end this entire meeting. After all, they had nothing more to talk about; the more time they wasted on conversation was time they could have used to bolster their defenses.

"You all already know your assigned roles, you're all dismissed!"

The room emptied in fragments.

The councilmen left one after another, the scrape of chairs and the echo of boots fading into the long, stony silence that followed. The fire at the hearth had burned low, leaving behind only the dull orange glow that barely touched the corners of the room.

Bjorn remained seated, unmoving.

His hand rested on the edge of the great map table, a scarred old slab that had seen decades of war plans drawn and erased. Each inked line on its surface held memory: battles won, alliances broken, the cost of peace that was never truly peace.

His gaze lingered on the faint red markings that circled the duchy's capital, Snowkeep.

It felt colder than it should have.

"Brave, I can give him that," he muttered under his breath. "He'd rather fight the enemy alone than have the rest of his duchy fall into ruin undefended."

There was no bitterness in his tone, only a quiet, tired sort of pride. Justinian's defiance wasn't arrogance; it was conviction, the kind Bjorn hadn't seen in a man for years.

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. The scent of smoke, ink, and melting snow filled the air.

"An arcanist as a duke, I still don't know what to think..."

For a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes. The years pressed down on him all at once, old scars, old wars, and the memory of a younger self who had once thought strength alone could save the world.

Now, strength was only a burden.

*** Vesuvian - Balcony Over the Training Yard ***

When Bjorn finally rose, the sun outside was already at its zenith.

He stepped onto the balcony, boots crunching faintly against the thin layer of frost that had formed along the stone. Below, the fortress yard was alive with motion, soldiers training in silence, their blades flashing under the sun, steam rising from their breath in the frigid air.

It was a rhythm he knew well. The rhythm of preparation before war.

Every clang of steel echoed like a heartbeat in his chest. He watched for a while, saying nothing. The north wind howled over the ramparts, carrying faint murmurs of orders and the smell of oil and snow.

Then his eyes found the open gate beyond the courtyard, and the long, dark road stretching north.

Cassia had left through that gate not long ago.

He could still see it in his mind: her silhouette riding ahead of her small escort, cloak snapping in the wind, head held high despite his warnings. She hadn't even looked back.

"She's more like me than I'd like to admit," he said quietly, a faint smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "But she's got his damn stubbornness."

"I guess some of the duke's eccentricity managed to rub off on her."

He leaned on the railing, the iron cold against his forearms. For a long moment, he just stared into the distance. Snow drifted lazily down, soft, harmless, indifferent to the wars men waged beneath it.

"Don't die, girl," he murmured, his voice barely louder than the wind. "Not before you show me what you see in that man."

Bjorn laughed, cracking his knuckles.

"Who am I kidding? This land has seen countless wars already, a simple half-assed crusade by a marquis won't be enough to take us down."

Bjorn tapped the railings, his god given gift activating as it froze the stone in a near instant.

"This'll just be another boring and uneventful week."

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