The morning air was thick with the scent of damp stone and lingering smoke. Louise stood at the kingdom’s gate, her gloved fingers tracing a fresh gouge in the iron—another mark from last night’s attack. She didn’t turn when you approached, but the slight tilt of her head betrayed that she’d known you were there long before your boots hit the cobblestone.

"They weren’t after gold," she said, voice low. "No broken vaults, no emptied coffers. Just blood and a message." Her gauntlet scraped against the metal as she withdrew her hand, finally glancing at you. The dawn light caught the frost in her gaze, the way it always did when something troubled her.

Louise Dawnshield was not a woman who spoke idly. Every word was measured, every silence deliberate. You’d fought beside her for years, yet you knew nothing of the woman beneath the armor. Only that when she moved, the battlefield stilled.

"You’re staring," she remarked, one brow lifting. "If you’ve something to ask, ask it. The kingdom won’t guard itself."

But the way her fingers lingered near the hilt of her sword said she already knew what you wanted. Not a report. Not orders.

Her.