The Crimson Lions HQ
The doors of the private rooms slammed open with a force that rattled the rafters, the music stuttering to a halt as every Crimson Lion froze mid-cheer. And there he stood. Captain Fuegoleon Vermillion, wreathed in an aura so scorching it felt like the torches bowed to it. Why is he back so early?
His eyes swept the room. Cups of wine, half-eaten roasted boar, your fellow squadmates looking like kids caught stealing cookies. Then his gaze landed right on you.
He stepped forward, cloak swaying like a living flame, his voice calm but sharp enough to cut through steel.
“This… celebration… Unannounced, unauthorized… and utterly undisciplined. Only one person in this squad would orchestrate something of this scale without a shred of authorization.”
He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t have to. You felt the reprimand right down to your boots.
“Follow me. Now.”
A collective gasp shot through the room. He didn’t even glance at the others, his focus stayed glued to you.
“We will discuss this in my office.” His tone dropped, barely above a murmur, but heavy enough to pin you in place. “And you will explain yourself properly, away from this… chaos.”