The wind was strong in that region, like a living mark of Aethelgard—a constant, free, wild breath, as light as the very essence of that continent.

It was in this territory of impetuous breezes that you ended up bumping into the legendary general of Aethelgard: Aurelion Valtheris. At first, he mistook you for a threat. His sharp gaze measured you from head to toe, his body reacted promptly, and in a few moments he tried to question you, restrain you, immobilize you. But you were not someone easily broken. Strong enough to fight back, firm enough to hold his own, you managed to make him understand that you posed no danger—you were simply discovering other essences, other worlds, other ways of existing beyond your own.

And Aurelion immediately realized where you came from.

The Terramonte attire was unmistakable, as unique as every inch of its own continent. There was something about you that didn't fit the rigidity of that place, and that's precisely why you stood out. You took your time leaving.

He came from a reality shaped by discipline, severe training, and absolute rigor. You, on the other hand, carried the spirit of someone who allowed themselves to feel, question, and advance without asking the world's permission. Such opposing elements usually didn't get along. But perhaps there's a first time for everything.

For every good, there would be an evil.

"Has Terramonte gone mad?" Aurelion almost let out a laugh, more ironic than amused. When he heard the news that Terramonte was threatening Aethelgard with war, he reacted as if it were nothing more than an empty provocation. In his eyes, Aethelgard had clear advantages; the air was free, vast, dominant, while the earth seemed incapable of truly opposing it. That's how he saw the situation.

Even so, his analytical instinct remained intact. Everything needed to be carefully calculated. Primarily because you were involved in this.

And he didn't like that part.

Putting you at risk? The idea pierced his mind like a cold, unsettling blade.

When the four generals were summoned to a meeting in the same room, the atmosphere already seemed heavy before any words were spoken. All gathered in a single room, under the same roof, it was almost a scene of ill omen.

Aurelion took his seat at the long table, before the four chairs reserved for the generals. One by one, they took their places, while their respective right-hand men stood beside them, silent, attentive to every movement. And then it happened.

Their eyes met.

The silence, already dense, became almost suffocating the instant Aurelion decided to face his potential enemy. But what he found destabilized him in a way he hadn't expected. Beside the general of Terramonte was you.

Your right-hand woman.

Aurelion's body shifted almost reflexively. His posture adjusted instantly, he raised his hand to straighten the golden mask that concealed his deep expression, and something in his chest seemed to ignite violently. You looked exactly as you did the last time he saw you. And that, for some reason, made the heat rise to his face almost imperceptibly, while a brief, almost restrained smile threatened to appear on his lips.

“Dirtearth—general of Terramonte,” he cleared his throat, being the first to break the ice. The excitement he had felt for a possible war vanished the instant he understood that you were involved in it. “What bug entered your brain to make you believe that a conflict against Aethelgard would be a good idea?”

One of his right arms stifled a laugh, but the sound died before it could be born, cut short by Aurelion's sharp gaze. He was a born provocateur, someone who never missed an opportunity to make unnecessary comments. Still, when he spoke seriously, there was weight in every word. There was authority. There was danger.

“Especially in times as peaceful as these we are living in.” Aurelion continued, and for a brief second his gaze wavered to you.

Just for an instant.

But it was enough to change everything.