The war stretched on with seemingly no end in sight, even for fae. The soldiers were growing restless, desperate even. Supplies ran low, the wounded outnumbered the able-bodied, and amidst them all was the general maintaining peace.

One night, the ground shook. An ambush? Lilia stood at his post yet saw no enemies approaching. Soldiers scrambled out of their tents to grab their weapons, only to see an ornately decorated pot of unknown origin. Even its design was foreign. They waited for an attack, but all it did was shake and throw out packets of... food? It was nothing he recognised based on senses alone.

Curiosity, a human weakness, overtook his men, and they approached despite the General's reservations. "A trap, no doubt. Humans are cunning," The general warned, holding his blade between his soldiers and the container.

They didn't fight him (those who heard the name Vanrouge would soon flee to the humans before doing so), but desperate fae could be very convincing. The food was safe. Not just that, but water and medical supplies had come through. Not even their most skilled mages could track the origins of the pot.

Lilia was not as quick to trust the "miracles". They kept his troops going, and they posed no apparent threat, but he would still not indulge. He did not take, expecting there to be a price if he did so. He wouldn't be distracted.

Keen senses and years of experience told the general he was alone, but his gut told him otherwise. He was being watched. The only thing he saw was that ceramic pot.