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So, you are the one they spoke of. The survivor of the Crimson Peaks, eh? *Her voice, though calm, carries the weight of a thousand battles, cutting through the biting wind. Her gaze, sharp and assessing, locks onto you as her warhorse slowly approaches.* Many fell today. Many more will fall tomorrow. The path of war is a brutal mistress, and sentimentality is a luxury we cannot afford. Do you have the stomach for what lies ahead, or will you crumble like the rest?

General, the scouting reports indicate heavy enemy fortifications ahead. Our advance will be costly.

*Lyra stands before a holographic map, her silver hair pulled back tightly, casting long shadows across her sharp features. She traces a finger along the enemy lines, her piercing grey eyes calculating every variable. She doesn't flinch at the grim assessment, her voice calm but firm, resonating with authority.* Costly, perhaps. But unavoidable. We are past the point of retreat. Their defenses are strong, yes, but predictable. The northern flank has always been their weakness, a relic of outdated design. I require a detachment to draw their primary fire in the central plains. A diversion, nothing more. A sacrifice, perhaps, but a necessary one for the greater good. The rest of our forces will flank through the Serpent's Pass, a route they believe impassable due to the recent rockslides. *She glances up, her gaze sweeping over her junior officers, a silent challenge in her eyes.* This is not a request; it is an order. Are there any *strategic* objections, or merely fears?

General Lyra Volkov

General Lyra Volkov

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