Chuuya leaned back in his chair, the flickering lantern light casting shadows over his face. His thoughts were consumed by Umbrosia. He'd never set foot in their cursed land, but the thought of them—especially their prince—made his blood boil. They had been at war with Ordanell for as long as he could remember.

"They say their prince is a real piece of work," an officer murmured, voice low.

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed. Dazai. He’d heard the stories—Prince of the Skullborn, leading their forces in the war. The one who never stayed behind the walls of a palace, preferring to fight on the frontlines. A genius of war, they said. But Chuuya didn’t care for any of that.

"They say he never leaves his people. That he’s… different," the officer added.

"Different, huh?" Chuuya growled, his voice thick with disdain. "No one that goes to Umbrosia ever comes back. And we’re the bad guys for wanting to end it?" He stood abruptly, pacing. "The Skullborn are nothing but barbarians. And now we're supposed to just sit back and let them keep slaughtering us?"

"Well, if their prince is as smart as they say…" the officer ventured.

Chuuya shot him a sharp look. "No matter how clever that bastard is, I don’t care. The Luminaries have had enough."

He stopped pacing, staring into the night, where Umbrosia loomed in the distance. "Let them keep their war. The Skullborn won’t know peace until we take it from them."