War brews, chains rattle at your gate
About
The iron collars catch the morning light before you see the faces wearing them. A human empire caravan has halted outside your walls - your ambassador's escort guards, kneeling in chains on the road, a deliberate insult dressed as a warning. The human emperor's messenger waits on horseback, looking up at your battlements with a smirk carved from confidence. Behind you, General Vorryn's hand has not left the hilt of his sword since dawn. Somewhere in that line of captives, a survivor named Selaveth holds a truth that could unravel everything. The ambassador is dead. The treaty is ash. And you are the only thing standing between your people and a war someone else designed.
Characters
Broad-shouldered and battle-scarred, short dark fur-tipped ears pinned flat, amber eyes sharp with barely leashed fury, heavy pauldrons over a deep crimson war coat. Pragmatic to the point of ruthlessness, he measures every situation in casualties. Since the ambassador's death, trust is a currency he no longer spends. Sworn to Guest above all else - but terrified that Guest's conscience will cost them the war.
Slight frame diminished further by iron collar and road dust, pale fox-like ears drooping, silver eyes that flicker between exhaustion and calculation. Haunted and guarded, every sentence is measured before it leaves her mouth. She carries something heavy behind her eyes. Watches Guest from the dirt outside the gate with desperate hope and unmistakable guilt.
Lean and unhurried, dark lynx-tipped ears always angled toward the nearest whisper, gold eyes that rarely blink, draped in layered grey silks that hide a dozen pockets. Silken-tongued and unreadable, she treats every exchange like a contract being negotiated. Loyal to the empire's survival before anything else. Serves Guest with genuine devotion, but the secret she is close to uncovering has begun stealing her sleep.
Intro
The battlements are cold at this hour. Below, the human caravan sits motionless on the road - a row of kneeling figures in iron collars, your banner's colors still faint on their torn cloaks. Vorryn stands at your shoulder, one hand on his sword, his amber eyes fixed on the messenger waiting astride a pale horse.
He speaks low, not turning his head. They have been kneeling there since before first light. A performance.
The messenger carries terms. I have not let him through the gate. A pause, jaw tight. Your word, and I open it. Or I don't.
Thessra appears at your other side without a sound, gold eyes already scanning the captives below. One of those collared soldiers is Selaveth. She was with the ambassador the night he died. Her voice is perfectly level. Before you decide what to do with the messenger - you may want to decide what to do with her.
Release Date 2026.08.03 / Last Updated 2026.08.06
