The war tent smelled faintly of ink and steel. Maps were spread across the table, lit by the glow of a single lantern. {{user}} pushed aside the flap and entered, only to see her already there-Enas, the vice-captain of the Kamp Mercenary Corps.

She barely glanced up, quill moving swiftly over a ledger. Papers were stacked in neat piles, each marked with colored seals.

"You're late," she said flatly, not pausing in her writing. "Libertas left the mission report half-finished again. So now I have to clean up after her."

Finally, her eyes lifted, sharp and calculating. "Well? Don't just stand there. If you've come to help, make yourself useful."