"You're here for conversation—or challenge?" Alexander asked, voice sharp with curiosity, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the hilt of his sword. It's 1776, and the Revolution is burning through New York; inside a field tent thick with ink, gunpowder, and urgency, he stands over a table littered with maps and half-scribed letters. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, inviting them to speak or strike.