Aeloria's finger shot forward, piercing the soldier's eye.
Blood gushed out in relentless fury.
The man screamed in agony and collapsed to the ground clutching his ruined face.
At least that's what should have happened, but no.
A huge hand closed around her wrist like an iron shackle, stopping her finger a hair's breadth from the soldier's pupil.
Aeloria's head jerked toward the weapon rack where Orin had been standing only a heartbeat earlier.
The space was empty.
How did he cross the entire training circle that fast?
The soldier whose eye had just been spared dropped straight to the ground, his legs giving out beneath him.
He sat there trembling as his hands shook uncontrollably, staring at the finger that had almost blinded him.
The other two attackers froze mid-motion. Their swords were already raised for the killing blow they no longer needed to deliver.
"Hey… the commander just stepped in. Is the fight over?"
"Obviously. Another half-second and that monster would've eaten Larin's eye for breakfast."
"Com… Commander?" Aeloria stammered, genuinely startled.
Orin released her wrist and spoke in a voice that allowed no argument.
"The fight is over."
"But why?" she demanded in frustration, her finger nails retracting unconsciously. "I was winning!"
"Because I said so," Orin answered, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face.
"That's not fair! You didn't stop them when they were beating me half to death!"
Orin's only reply was to reach out and deliver another sharp knock to the back of her skull with his knuckles.
Aeloria yelped, her eyes watering instantly. Before she could even rub the sore spot, his hand clamped around the back of her neck again and he started dragging her across the dirt like a misbehaving puppy.
'I heal from everything else in seconds,' she thought, one tear slipping free, 'so why do his knocks hurt so very much?' One thing Aeloria didn't realise was that she heals only when she feels threatened.
"The purpose of the fight was for me to measure exactly how useless you are, not for you to win. Besides, you shattered Yoru's shoulder with the strike that forced her to one knee. That alone testifies that you're slightly less useless than most." Orin said loudly enough for the entire circle to hear.
Every head in the vicinity whipped toward the female soldier.
Yoru stood rigid, her left arm hanging limp at her side, her face was pale but her expression was carefully blank.
'He noticed? I tried to hide the injury so it wouldn't give the cannibal an opening, but of course the strongest man in the kingdom saw straight through it.' she thought, biting the inside of her cheek.
"She broke your shoulder?" one of the male participants blurted, staring at his comrade in disbelief. He hadn't even noticed.
Larin, the soldier who had almost lost an eye laughed shakily. "To think she managed to actually hurt a trained soldier in real combat on her very first day holding a sword… she really is something else."
Commander Orin stopped in the centre of the training field and released Aeloria. He turned to face the thousands of assembled troops.
"ATTENTION!"
The response was instantaneous.
Boots slammed together. Backs straightened with chins high.
In less than five heartbeats the entire training ground had transformed into perfect, silent rows: three columns wide, male-female-male alternating, ten paces of empty space between each block of three columns, repeated across the entire field. Not a single helmet was out of place.
Orin's voice rolled over them like winter thunder.
"Some of you are just as useless today as you were yesterday and the day before that. Others have shown real improvement. Either way, you are all still useless. But you have done acceptable work this morning. Go home. Eat. Sleep. And tomorrow come back prepared to be slightly less useless than you were today. Now all of you, SCRAM."
The ranks broke with disciplined speed, yet every soldier kept stealing glances at the thin, blood-streaked girl standing beside the commander.
Orin turned back to Aeloria, seized the back of her dress again, and resumed dragging her toward the stone building without another word.
She stumbled after him, rubbing the fresh lump on her head.
The strongest man in Runevale had just saved an enemy soldier from her, scolded her like a child, praised her in the same breath, and dismissed an entire army with a handful of words.
The training ground slowly emptied. Packs were slung over shoulders, swords sheathed, boots crunched across the floor as the soldiers headed for the gates.
"Hey, you seriously think that cannibal is going to end up in our ranks one day?I'm really not thrilled about serving next to someone who looks at me like I'm meat instead of a comrade," one asked.
"Same here. If she could bring herself to eat her own child, just imagine what she'd do to the rest of us if we ever ran out of rations," another muttered, throwing a nervous arm around his friend's neck
A third soldier holding his helmet it one hand who was listening in on their conversation laughed, but it sounded forced. "That maiden is completely insane. Did you see the way she smiled while blood poured down her face? That image is burned into my head forever. Still… thanks to her little show, the commander dismissed us early today. When you look at it from that angle, she's not entirely bad."
"That aside, I really don't want to go home today. We had an argument last weak and my wife still refuses to let me have a feel. I'm so pent up lately I feel like I might burst at any moment." The third soldier added with a sad look.
"Don't beat yourself down, brother. Women are always like that. Say, we're headed straight for the Yemi inn. Why don't you come with us?" The first soldier offered with a smile.
"You should come, brother. The maidens there are eager to take people to bed, you wouldn't need to ask. Besides, your wife has herself to blame. Everyone knows a man shouldn't be kept waiting when it came to these matters." The second soldier places an arm around the third soldier's neck and dragged him away with a smile.
More uneasy laughter followed as the groups broke apart and disappeared through the gates, their voices fading into the cold morning air.
Aeloria heard every single word as clearly as if they were shouting them in her ear.
However, she kept her face blank, and her eyes were fixed on the ground while Orin continued dragging her along by the back of her dress.
"Commander… I think I can walk perfectly fine on my own," she said, keeping her tone light, as though the insults were nothing more than wind.
"Oh, you were so utterly useless out there I genuinely forgot you even had legs," Orin replied without missing a beat, not slowing down for a second, still hauling her across the dirt like a rolled-up carpet.
They reached the long stone building again. He kicked the heavy door open with one boot and stepped inside without breaking stride.
Only then did he finally release her.
Aeloria dropped straight to the floor, the back of her head smacking hard against the cold floor. She let out a small grunt, ignored the fresh throb of pain, and pushed herself up into a sitting position, rubbing the growing lump.
Orin crossed the room in a few long strides, dropped into the high-backed chair behind the map table, and fixed her with a stare that could have frozen a river.
"You are now permitted to sit," he said.
"Thank you," Aeloria answered quietly and climbed into the chair opposite him, folding her hands in her lap.
A long, heavy silence settled between them.
"I don't put stock in tavern rumours. And I don't judge a soldier by the filth people scream in the streets. So I'm asking you directly. Define yourself. Did you eat a child? Your own child?"
Aeloria's gaze fell to the scarred wooden surface in front of her and whispered
"Yes. I did."
She waited.
She waited for the disgust and hatred the people always showed her. For the immediate order to get out and never show her face again.
Orin was silent for what felt like an eternity.
Then the chair creaked loudly. His boots thudded across the floor.
She felt him stop directly in front of her but she couldn't look up. She feared what expression he had on his face. A huge hand closed on the front of her dress and lifted her clean out of the seat once more, her feet dangling uselessly again.
Aeloria couldn't bring herself to look up. Guilt crushed her chest so hard she could barely breathe.
'He's going to throw me out before I even get the chance to join. Or he's going to hit me for what I just admitted. Either way, it's over.'
Orin towered over her.
"Inhumane," he said in a cold and hard voice.
Then his arms wrapped around her and pulled her into a crushing embrace.
"Beasts of the wild are monsters. But even wolves, bears, and mountain cats do not devour their own young. Whatever nightmare you lived through to be forced into that inhumane choice, Aeloria… no mother should ever make that decision." It was the first time he ever used her name.
He held her tighter, one massive hand resting between her shoulder blades, the other cradling the back of her neck.
"I don't have a child of my own, so I can't pretend to know the exact weight of losing one by your own hand. But I can stand here and tell you I sympathise with the pain you've been dragging behind you all this time."
Something inside Aeloria shattered.
Not the cold calculation of Queen Nyxelene, who had looked at her and declared the child's death her own fault. Not the villagers who had burned the only home her grandmother ever left her. Not Anlara, her best friend who had turned her back on her without giving her a chance to explain. Not the crowds who threw stones, rotten food, and endless insults day after day.
This terrifying commander who had dragged her, knocked her senseless, and called her useless, was the first person to simply hold her and say he understood.
The stone mask she had worn to survive the hatred cracked, then crumbled completely.
It began with one choked sob.
Then another.
Then the flood broke loose.
Aeloria clutched the front of his tunic with both fists and cried, loud, ugly and unrestrained. Tears soaked into the dark fabric as her whole body shook with the force of it.
Every scream she had swallowed, and every shard of guilt and grief she had carried alone poured out in heaving, unstoppable waves.
Orin did not move.
He did not shift uncomfortably.
He did not pull away.
He simply stood there in the quiet war room and let her break against him, one hand resting gently on her back while the other supported her head.
For the first and only time anyone in Runevale would ever witness, the Tyrant held a crying, broken woman and allowed every tear to fall without a single word of rebuke.
Just this once, he let it slide.