The command tent, now enlarged and reinforced by the geomancers of the Sixth Squad, was the focal point of all tensions. The air was thick, saturated with the smell of candle wax, damp leather, and the subtle ozone left by essence manipulations. In the center, a massive rough-hewn wooden table supported the detailed map of the border region, a worn parchment on which the latest enemy movements were traced.
The Count stood at the head of the table, his hands clasped behind his back. His mere calm and observant presence dominated the space, forcing even the hot-headed Valerius to a grumbling restraint. At his side, Lady Anya, her gaze sharp, waited, a stylus in her hand. The other team leaders, captains of Martissan companies and section chiefs of the Awakened, formed a tight circle. Among them, Maggie, flanked by Tonar and Zirel, stood straight, her face closed off. Rhelas was slightly apart, leaning against a tent pole, his silence itself a statement.
