​

The crackling of the fire echoed mournfully against the stone walls of the officers' hall.
The still-unfinished portions of the fortress’s main structure did little to stop the mountain wind that howled across the cliff towering above the ocean — the very foundation of what would one day become a fortified port town and upper citadel. The hour was late, and so no sounds of labor drifted in from outside — only the distant hammering of the last workers and the occasional call of guards taking their posts for the night.

A man, not particularly tall, clad in chainmail adorned with a paladin’s tabard, sat in quiet contemplation before the flames as they consumed another load of timber tossed onto the hearth.

"Milord...?" — a hesitant voice broke the silence.

The commander didn’t react at first.
After a pause, he reluctantly turned his gaze toward the visitor.

He didn’t like the man.
But personal distaste wasn’t the real issue here. It was enough to say that the paladin’s opinion of how Lieutenant Cossineck managed the town guard left much to be desired.
Lax discipline, poor leadership, and mounting rumors of corruption within the ranks stirred genuine disgust in the knight. A weak character and the obvious nepotism behind Cossineck’s appointment to the post of town militia captain only completed the picture — and the commander’s reluctance to cooperate.

"I'll consider your request, lieutenant. You’ll be informed of my decision in the coming days."

"But—"

"That is all. Dismissed."

The militiaman lingered a moment longer, uncertain, but the stern gazes and cold silence of the two paladins flanking the room were enough to rob him of any lingering resolve.
He gave a sheepish nod and turned to leave in haste.

Once the door closed behind him, the commander, still gazing into the fire, muttered:

"I'd sooner put him on the next ship back to the mainland... but that would stir up trouble with the governor and the rest of the court lackeys. By Innos, if the nobility’s influence isn’t reined in soon, it’s going to end in disaster."

The two knights exchanged a glance — inwardly agreeing with every word.
At last, a tall man with a thick beard brushing the top of his armored breastplate spoke up with firm conviction:

"Idiot or not, the problem is real. This goes deeper than just the incompetence of the governor’s pampered brat. The city hasn’t even been finished yet — and already no one is truly in control."

"Sending soldiers into the streets is not the answer," the second knight interjected. "It would only drain the strength of our garrison."

Mablung and Lezalit — though respectful toward each other and often aligned in opinion — never managed to form a friendship that extended beyond the brotherhood of the Order.
Perhaps it was their similarities that divided them more than any differences.

Sensing the tension rising, the commander turned to face both of them.

"The truth is, crime in the city is growing at an alarming rate. The guard is utterly failing to deal with it, and I understand Mablung’s frustration. But it is not the army’s duty to do the town watch’s job. Our garrison has more important responsibilities — we protect the mining operations, the quarries, and most importantly, defend the city from external threats. And Lezalit, I know your discipline when it comes to drilling the recruits, and I share your concerns — sending our men to wander the streets is a waste of strength that should go toward training. We’re a new outpost, and most of our soldiers are fresh conscripts."

There was no need to say more.
None of those present had the slightest interest in saving Governor Rafael from the consequences of his own incompetence. His carelessness and inability to grasp the scale of the issue only deepened the paladins’ aversion to cooperation. His refusal to correct mistakes or withdraw decisions harmful to the town’s stability stirred outright contempt and reinforced the belief that relieving him of responsibility served no purpose.

What irritated them even more was the fact that instead of personally inviting them to the town hall, he kept sending his lieutenant.
As if his "many pressing obligations" didn’t allow him the time for a face-to-face conversation about such a critical matter — or perhaps his bulging belly was too much of an obstacle for the climb up the cliffside path to the upper keep?

Those questions were left unanswered — rhetorical, really. The warriors didn’t dwell on them for long. Their thoughts were already turning to other matters that had yet to be discussed that evening.