The general's study was quieter than the rest of the manor, wrapped in thick stone walls that kept the world at bay.
A low fire crackled in the hearth—not for warmth, but out of habit.
It was to fill the silence between men in times when they didn't know what to say or even what to think.
Vell stood by the tall window, eyes fixed on the courtyard below.
The general sat in his leather chair, gaze following the same line—out toward the place where, not long ago, two young girls had been testing each other with wooden blades.
"They've stopped," the general said as he noticed that the sounds had gotten still.
"Some fights end just with hurt feelings," Vell said, not looking away from the window.
The general snorted. "Sometimes they should end with something more."
"You haven't changed much," Vell said.
"I got older."
"You could've gotten softer."
The general gave a grunt that could've meant yes or no. "If I was going to, it would've been thirty years ago. Before the treaty. Before we called this peace. Before these walls were rebuilt instead of burned."
Vell nodded once. "Peace doesn't soften everyone, it seems."
"Wasn't peace that did it," the general muttered. "It was time. And the daily reminder that everything we built could still go to ruin. I lived too long at the front to forget how easy it is to lose control."
Vell's mouth curved into a small, wry smile. "I still remember that ridge. The oil trench."
The general smirked faintly, too. "You yelled at me not to light it."
"You nearly set yourself on fire."
"And you called it—what was it? 'Logistically inefficient.'"
The two men chuckled—dry and quiet, but real.
"And now? What do you do with all that fury?" Vell asked the general.
The general didn't answer right away. He stared into the fire. "I try not to pass it down," he said.
Before Vell could respond, footsteps echoed in the hall—quick, clipped, and frustrated.
"Sonder?" he called.
The steps stopped, then the study door creaked open.
Sonder stepped inside. Her hair was wild, dust clung to her sleeves, and a fresh bruise was beginning to bloom beneath her collar.
The general sat straighter at the sight of a young lady, however disheveled.
"How was the duel?" Vell asked, though he'd seen enough from the window.
Sonder paused, debating how much to say.
"Sonder," Vell said, more pointed now. "Just tell the truth."
"She cheats," Sonder said flatly.
The general raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"I got fed up and stopped. She's not... a partner I'd want, if I had the choice," she stated more firmly.
The general exhaled slowly through his nose. "Cadre… well, she's always been headstrong if she doesn't get her way. Her mother says she gets it from me."
"She doesn't care about learning," Sonder said. "Only winning. Even if she has to break the rules to do it."
Vell stepped forward, his hand hovering just above her shoulder. A soft blue glow passed from his fingers to her skin, and the pain in Sonder's body faded.
"She'll learn," the general offered.
Vell looked at him. "You think? Because if she doesn't, someone's going to hurt her—and they won't show the kind of restraint Sonder did today."