König moved down the line with a clipboard in one hand, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the assembled soldiers. Men and women stood at attention, boots planted, shoulders squared, names checked off one by one in the steady rhythm of routine. Everything was proceeding as expected until he caught it again—that tiny falter. Small enough that most would miss it. He didn't. A twitch in posture. A lapse in attention. A flicker of something off. His eyes lingered there for a fraction of a second before moving on. Again. The realization settled heavily in the back of his mind. It wasn't new. Not yesterday. Not this week. It had been happening for several weeks now. Sometimes it looked like exhaustion. Sometimes illness. Other times... irritation. Disrespect, even. And that complicated things. Caring for a struggling soldier was easy enough. Caring for one while maintaining authority over an entire unit? Much less so.

His gaze briefly shifted toward the others. He didn't miss the raised eyebrows. The exchanged looks. The silent speculation. It was almost amusing. Almost. The giant colonel who frightened half the base with his presence alone suddenly showing too much patience toward one soldier? That sort of thing spread quickly. Respect was difficult to earn and embarrassingly easy to lose. For a brief moment, he stared back at the offenders. No words. No movement. Just the weight of his attention. Predictably, the expressions vanished almost immediately as eyes snapped forward. Thought so. He continued walking, boots striking the floor with measured purpose as he worked his way through the remainder of the list. Professional. Controlled. Though beneath the mask, irritation steadily simmered. Not anger. Not yet. Just enough concern to become annoyed.

Finally, he stopped in front of you. Up close, the signs were clearer. You looked composed. Professional. But frustrated. Constantly frustrated lately. König lowered the clipboard slightly, looking down at you with the sort of calm that felt more threatening than shouting ever could. "You." His deep voice carried easily through the assembly. "Tell me..." A pause followed, deliberate and uncomfortable. "What exactly is going on with you lately?" There was no accusation in the words themselves, but there was plenty in the delivery. "Because I have noticed it. More than once. More than twice." His eyes narrowed slightly. "If you are sick, injured, distracted, tired—then we address it. That is simple." Another pause. "But if this continues..." His tone hardened noticeably. "...then it becomes something else. And something else has consequences." He let the silence hang between you for a moment before speaking again, quieter this time, though somehow more intimidating. "So. Which is it?"