Noah's slumber ended with a jolt.
He couldn't even consider it sleep. It had felt more like a long blink before Felt's ugly damn face had loomed over him, sharp grey eyes like twin icicles.
"What—what's going on?" Noah mumbled, still heavy-lidded. The lingering aftereffects of Boreas's blessing clung to him like frost in his bones, cold and slow.
"Shift yourself. General wants to see you."
Noah groaned and collapsed back onto his bed. "Twenty minutes… I was having a really good dream."
"You'll get up now," Felt said flatly, "before I put a boot so far up your ass you'll taste leather for a week."
Scowling, Noah sat up. It had been such a good dream. He was getting married—to someone. A girl. The most beautiful girl on the planet, maybe the only beautiful thing left in the world. She made all the other girls look dull, unpolished. Her smile had been warm and sunshine gentle.
Only, he couldn't remember her face….
'I think I miss her…'
Wiping his eyes, Noah looked around, half-hoping to find beauty within his dreams in his surroundings.
He didn't.
All he saw were loud, sleeping, stinking men.
'…Life sucks.'
"Arthur already there?" he asked, nodding to the empty bunk below.
Felt's lips twitched ever so slightly. "Not sure where he is. General asked for you. Only you."
Noah raised an eyebrow. 'Just me, huh? That's not suspicious at all.' He'd been hoping for a few days of peace, maybe even boredom. But no. Of course not.
'Guess that's what I get for being best friends with the army's favorite disaster magnet.'
He trudged through the base, muttering curses that grew darker with every step. The city was too quiet. No clatter of gear, no shouted drills. Everyone either passed out from too much fun—or still having it.
They had plans to repurpose the whole place into a permanent military base, that meant he'd probably be stuck here for the rest of his sentence.
'Maybe I'll rot out the rest of my sentence in peace', he thought, then scoffed aloud. 'Who am I kidding.'
Inside the building General Thanason had claimed for himself, a young soldier greeted him.
Bright smile, sharp eyes and a tone that seemed just a little too friendly. Noah hated him on instinct.
"Ahh, Noah, right?"
"Yeah."
"Take a seat. The General will be with you shortly."
'That bastard's making me wait?' He didn't say it aloud, just nodded and sat—mood already spoiled.
By the time he was ushered into the office, he was boiling. The space was stark. Spartan. A single large desk, a high-backed chair where General Thanason sat like a carved idol. Silent. Still.
The walls were bare except for a nailed-up map to his left, the paper yellowed and frayed at the corners.
Thanason didn't speak. So Noah didn't either.
The General's yellow eyes were fixed on a pile of papers, the silence thick and pressing. But Noah refused to be the one to break it. He'd been through too much to play games.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Thanason looked up.
"Noah. I've been reading your file. Quite the story, isn't it?"
Noah's eyes narrowed. His hands curled into fists.
"Didn't expect a thief to wear the mask of a hero," the General mused. "Would you?"
"I'm not a thief," Noah said, low and tight.
"Oh? Really? Because your file says you were one."
Noah didn't answer. He didn't trust his voice anymore.
Thanason's tone went clinical. "Says you stole a noble's heirloom. Instead of executing you, he handed down mercy, had you sent here."
Noah clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.
The General leaned forward. Eyes glittering. "So. Why don't you tell me what really happened."
"Nothing," Noah said. Hollow.
Thanason raised a brow. "Nothing, huh? Must've been a hell of a 'nothing,' then. Got your mother and sister enslaved. Got your father—"
"What do you mean enslaved?" Noah snapped.
Thanason didn't even flinch. "Karl Reifen took them. You should've known nobles don't do deals. So I'll ask again, as the only man in this damn place who can still help you: what really happened?"
'Mom… no. No no no.'
Noah slid down against the door, ignoring the rigid expectations of rank and posture. He didn't have the strength to stand.
When he spoke, his voice felt like it came from somewhere far outside himself.
"They stole my mother's necklace. An old heirloom—ours, not theirs. I went to take it back. Got caught on the way out.
The noble wanted me executed. But my father spoke to him. He handed over the deed—proof the necklace was ours. In exchange, the noble sent me here. Told me if I stayed quiet, no harm would come to them. My family."
Thanason didn't blink. "Your side of the deal hasn't been upheld, Noah. Far from it. Your mother and sister are under Reifen's employ. And your father… he was sent to the army. Like you."
Noah froze. Ice ran through him, flooding every cell. "What?"
"He was in Umbra. Assigned to the dun squads. Not like you."
Thanason's voice lowered. Almost gentle. "He didn't survive the last battle."
The world tilted.
Noah's throat closed up. "He was here? The whole time?"
"Yes."
"…"
Thanason folded his hands. "I'm sorry, Noah. But there's something I don't understand. Why are you fighting for Arthur? He's a noble, isn't he? Just like the one who destroyed your life."
'So that's what this is.'
For a second, Noah had thought the General was trying to help him. That maybe someone finally gave a damn.
But no. Thanason was a noble too. Twisted, power-hungry. Like most of them.
"He's better than you'll ever be," Noah hissed.
Thanason stared at him, cold and still. Then he rose.
The pressure in the room shifted, becoming dense, suffocating almost.
"I'll make you an offer, Noah. One chance. One move you can make on this board. Take it, and I'll protect what's left of your family.
Refuse, and… who knows when you'll get another chance."
Noah looked up, eyes narrowed. "What?"
Thanason smiled. "Simple.
Betray Arthur Gravewalker."