"They are not sacrifices. They are the spear tip."
I didn't waste time watching Kaelus scramble. The pathetic scratching of his pen across the charmed parchment, rewriting the fate of three deployed armies, was an insult to the scale of my fury. The Old Alpha does not tolerate being played for a fool, especially not by a Seer who relies on unpredictable visions and low Mage tricks. I strode from the siege tower, the freezing wind barely stirring my cloak. Every step I took was heavy, resounding with the iron authority of my lineage. The entire northern castle felt brittle beneath my command, its very air thick with the scent of blood and defeat, their defeat, but also the bitter taste of my own tactical oversight.
