Page 100 of Interion

“If you'll permit me some advice, Majesty, I believe we should advance with caution,” Zion said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance. The king cleared the manic look from his face and turned his full attention to Zion.

“Should we?” He lifted his chin slightly, staring down at him. “Tell me the reason, General.”

“The Drutes must have some plan. They wouldn't retreat without good reason or a strategy already in motion. Perhaps they're plotting something.”

The king observed him for a few seconds. The general felt the power touch him without permission. He fought the urge to tremble with hatred at the invasion, but directed the man toward his second consciousness without much trouble. Zion showed exactly what he was thinking: the Drutes retreating might not be a good omen—it could be some kind of attack maneuver.

“Your thinking is sound, but war makes no sense, and this conflict has dragged on for many years,” the king countered humorlessly, straightening on his throne. “We have a golden opportunity here.”

Zion considered his words carefully. He didn't want to contradict the king, but keeping the troops safe was his primary objective.

“We can continue advancing with our patrols and intensify the search for camps. We've already cleared half the outer terrain, and this is a good chance to secure more ground around the Sarahi gorge. However, I would advise taking it one step at a time—test the area so we don't walk into a trap.”

Cauê's eyes darted between them, fearful of the debate—Zion was one of the few people the king allowed to argue military matters or challenge his decisions.

The sovereign continued probing his mind, seeing how each piece fit together.

“With caution, but with speed.” The corner of his mouth curled in disgust. “Whatever is causing them to withdraw, it must be something big. So we'll attack before they have time to regroup.”

Zion didn't know how to hide his disapproval, so he simply stared at the king and let those thoughts drift freely. Serguei stiffened beside him as the monarch's eyes gleamed sharp as blades.

“You’re brave, General. The bravest to ever dare come up here,” Elitium said gravely, then rose from the throne in one swift motion.

Everyone held their breath as he made his way toward Zion, descending the three steps dramatically. A sadistic smile spread across his lips as his hand rose toward the general, who remained motionless. Then, something like approving pats landed on his shoulders. The shadows hissed in response but shrank back under the king’s glare.

“I like your honesty, and despite all that miserable blood running through your veins, you’ve done excellent work outside these walls. But I hope I don’t need to remind you again that I give the orders and you follow them.” Elitium toyed with a strand of electricity between his fingers. The lightning buzzed and crackled—a loud warning.

Zion watched, knowing it was just another cheap intimidation tactic—Elitium had always liked to rule through fear. When the general said nothing, he smothered the lightning in his fist and added:

“We’ll follow your plans. We march with caution, but we advance as quickly as possible. I’m sick of wasting time.”

Since this was both a declaration and a compromise, the two generals said nothing—simply nodded. With that, Zion turned to the provisional general.

“Be careful. At the first sign of trouble, fall back and make contact. If you need me, I’ll be there in two hours, so be smart.”

“Will do, General.” Cauê saluted.

The king returned to his throne, his gaze still on Zion.

“I hear you have some promising students,” he said, drumming his fingers on the padded armrest. Zion waited for him to continue, but the king just stared.

“Yes, some are quite good,” he replied, wondering where this was going.

“I won’t bring up the weak half-breed who nearly got killed during an attack.” Zion knew the king had said that only to gauge his reaction, so reluctantly, he kept his temper on a tight leash. “I’ll just say I want harder training, and by the end of this year, you’ll send me at least three high-level combat soldiers. I’ll choose one to become a pillar. Are we clear?”

Zion forced himself into a stiff, shallow bow and kept his eyes away from the empty chair beside Serguei.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he murmured, fighting back the urge to grind his teeth.

The general didn’t like the king’s tone. Sometimes it seemed like the monarch just wanted to hear himself talk. Of course Zion would deliver good soldiers—not just three, but far more than that. But the clock was ticking, and thanks to the king, Zion felt pressured to move faster.

“Breno Lutieve—make sure the boy is among the best. I want his power,” Elitium said, and Zion caught Zafira’s slight shudder.

“It will be done.”

“You’re dismissed. I expect good news at the next meeting.”

Zion and Cauê bowed again and withdrew in silence. The king’s gaze remained on their backs, and before they could leave, the monarch called out.