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"Aye," Roland said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "She didn’t just endure, she outmaneuvered them. With wit, patience, and the courage to gamble when others would have folded. Many expected her to cling to her title and fade. Instead, she grew it. She turned her barony into a viscounty through sheer will. Every bit of her standing now, she carved with her own hands."

Lumberling’s gaze lingered on the carriage where Liraeth waited, her green eyes calmly scanning the square. She looked so poised, so untouchable, yet now he saw the steel beneath her elegance.

"She reminds of a blade," Lumberling said at last.

Roland tilted his head. "How so?"

"Polished on the surface, gleaming, beautiful," Lumberling replied. "But it’s the edge beneath that makes it dangerous."

Roland chuckled softly. "Just take care, Lord Lumberling. Blades cut both ways. Stand with her, and her enemies will count you as theirs. She’s not one to be underestimated, nor one who takes betrayal lightly. If you march with her, you march with all she has built."

Lumberling nodded once, his expression steady. "That’s all I ask."

With that, he turned toward his n, the decision already sealed.

......

The march began at first light. Lumberling split his forces with care, Krivex and the archer unit stayed behind to guard Drosvain alongside Uncle Eldric and Derrek, while the rest followed him toward Viscount Liraeth’s lands.

The road stretched wide and dusty, the banners of Duskpire Legion and the eagle crest of House Vaelora fluttering side by side. Soldiers, human and monster alike marched in rhythm, a sight that drew both stares and unease from villagers they passed.

Viscount Liraeth rode in a carriage, but she had offered Lumberling a seat inside before their departure. He declined, choosing instead to remain on horseback at the head of his column.

For most of the journey, silence reigned, broken only by the tramp of boots and the creak of wagon wheels. It was Gordon, the old knight at Liraeth’s side, who finally broke it.

Gordon urged his horse closer. His voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of years.

"I’ve heard you fought pirates before, Lord Lumberling. How are they compared to Sengolio’s n?"

Lumberling gave a faint grunt of acknowledgnt before answering. "Desperate. Pirates fight like cornered beasts. No discipline, no formation, just raw ferocity. They’ll swarm you without fear of death, because most of them have nothing left to lose."

Gordon nodded slowly. "I see. That recklessness makes them dangerous, but also predictable. Soldiers... soldiers are another matter."

Lumberling glanced at him. "True. Sengolio’s troops are organized, drilled. They move like a single machine, with their Knights as the gears driving it forward. Pirates can break a shield wall, but soldiers know how to hold one."

The old knight gave a thin smile. "So you’ve tasted both chaos and order. Good. That ans you’ll not underestimate either."

Lumberling chuckled under his breath. "Underestimating gets you killed. I’ve seen enough to know better."

For the first ti, Gordon’s stern expression softened into approval. "Then perhaps this march won’t be as reckless as I feared."

....

Later that evening, when the campfires burned and the soldiers rested, Liraeth stepped out of her carriage. Her erald eyes found Lumberling by the fire, sharpening his spear in silence. She walked closer, her steps deliberate but graceful.

"You’ve kept your n in good order," she said, her voice quiet enough that only he would hear. "They march like veterans."

Lumberling didn’t look up from the blade. "They’ve bled together. That does more than drills."

Liraeth studied him for a mont, her gaze thoughtful. "You speak like a commander who’s carried losses."

Finally, Lumberling lifted his eyes to hers, the firelight flickering across his face. "Losses teach faster than victories."

For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then she gave the faintest smile. "Perhaps... we’re not so different, Lord Lumberling."

He didn’t answer, but his silence carried more weight than words.

With a nod, Liraeth turned back toward her carriage, leaving him with the fire and the steady rhythm of whetstone on steel.

...

The road into Liraeth’s county curved along rolling fields and sparse villages, the banners of her house fluttering above watchtowers. As the group drew near the gates of a fortified town, a figure waited with soldiers at his back. A knight in dull steel stood beside him like a shadow.

Liraeth’s brows tightened the mont she saw him. Her hand, resting on the edge of her carriage window, stilled.

They rode past in silence, but the nobleman stepped forward and called out, his voice oily and confident.

"Once again, I see your beauty, Lady Liraeth."

His words hung in the air, but she didn’t so much as turn her head. Her eyes remained fixed forward, her carriage wheels rolling on.

From his saddle, Lumberling glanced sideways. "I think that man wants to talk to you," he said flatly.

"Ignore him," Liraeth replied, her tone clipped, her gaze never breaking.

The noble’s soldiers muttered among themselves as the group marched on, but none dared to step closer.

Curious, Lumberling guided his horse closer to Gordon, the old knight. "Who is he?"

Gordon’s jaw tightened, the lines on his face sharpening. "That man has hounded Lady Liraeth for years, pestering her for her hand. When Sengolio first pressed into our borders and the Lady sought aid, he was the first to answer... but with conditions."

"What conditions?"

"That she marry him." Gordon spat the words as though they tasted foul. "In return, he offered his n and his single True Knight. Absurd. If not for his family’s na shielding him, I would have struck him down myself for daring such insolence."

His grip tightened on the reins, the leather creaking under his gauntlets. Anger flickered in his eyes, the restrained fury of a man who had seen his Lady stand against vultures alone.

Lumberling didn’t reply. He simply watched the nobleman’s retreating figure.

The nobleman lingered by the roadside as Liraeth’s column advanced, his smile fading into a scowl the mont he caught sight of the marching force. His eyes narrowed when he noticed the hulking goblins and kobolds moving in step beside human soldiers.

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