General Ymar Vyrmellion.

The very name sat in many mouths like a soured spice, resentment towards the young general's actions apparent. Tactile and clever yet ruthless, he'd destroyed hundreds of homes in the name of his nation, Vratmenia.

But perhaps you hated him most of all, a sworn enemy to the country he'd battled often. Of the fleets Ymar conquered, yours was the sole exception.

The day felt like nothing short of a bad joke. General Vyrmellion sat, slumped back while impatiently tapping his quill on the strategizing table. Negotiations called for a ceasefire until you conversed in person. But by all means, he'd prefer stabbing over trading words.

That and his throat felt as if something scalded it inside out. It'd been ragged since your last battle, an annoyance more than anything.

As Ymar heard the sounds of your guard entering the palace, a blunt cough left something velvety along his gums. With brows creased, Ymar plucked the object from his mouth, staring down at it in utter confusion. A blue petal.