Arasha sat at her desk, her fingers steepled beneath her chin, her sharp gaze unfocused as she stared down at the untouched reports.
Her mind was a battlefield—warring thoughts clashing over strategy, logistics, and responsibility.
Bringing the Awakened under her wing was no simple task.
Training them was an entirely different beast.
Unlike knights, who were trained from youth under rigid discipline, the Awakened were diverse, unpredictable. Some had combat experience, others did not. Some might have unstable abilities, and others could wield their gifts effortlessly.
And beyond training, there was the matter of their survival.
Where would they stay? What provisions could she spare? How could she ensure they weren't treated as mere weapons?
And then, of course, there was funding.
She exhaled sharply, feeling the weight press heavier on her shoulders. The nobles would demand leverage if she asked for their coin. The royals would see it as another excuse to remind her of her foreign blood.
A headache threatened to settle behind her eyes.
"Commander."
The voice was distant—an echo at the edge of her thoughts.
She barely registered it, her mind still tangled in possibilities, risks, and countermeasures.
"Commander."
Still lost in thought.
A sharp clearing of a throat.
"Commander!"
Arasha blinked, her focus snapping back to reality as Sir Garran's voice cut through her haze of contemplation.
She looked up to see him standing at attention, an amused but mildly exasperated expression on his face.
"…Apologies," she said, rubbing her temple. "I was—"
"Thinking," Sir Garran supplied. "Very intensely, from the looks of it."
Arasha gave him a pointed glance but let it slide. "Report."
Sir Garran straightened, his casual amusement replaced with seriousness.
"The rifts remain closed for now, but the areas they appeared in are still unstable," he stated. "We've confirmed lingering corruption in some locations—distorted magic, creatures that shouldn't exist, residual anomalies. Some towns have requested aid in purging the remnants."
Arasha nodded, absorbing the information, already adding another layer to her burdens. Even with the rifts sealed, their effects lingered.
"Looks like there's more to be done and a lot more to be planned...Sir Garran recruit promising talents from the awakened ones that you come across. That way we gain workers and protect the awakened at the same time, a small scale of a bigger plan..."
Arasha ordered Sir Garran.
"I'll get to it immediately Commander."
Sir Garran paused before exiting, "Commander get some rest or else I'll suffer Leta's wrath..."
Arasha chuckled at Sir Garran's comment. "I will, soon."
After Sir Garran heard their Commander's response he just shrugged and exited thinking he tried to at least convince her to rest.
At a secluded training ground, Arasha slipped from her office to stretch her stiff body. Unexpectedly she found Kael training close by—Kael sweating from doing an intense drill of sword stances and integrating aura as well as magic.
"Impressive," Ashara comments as she wlaked towards Kael.
"Commander," Kael greeted as he noticed their Commander heading towards him with an imposing aura.
"Want to spar?" Arasha asked.
"I appreciate the offer Commander, but head medic Leta will have my head if she finds out I tried to," Kael coolly responded.
"You're more concerned about Leta's wrath than mine, huh? You sure are brave." Arasha comments with a grin.
"A battle medic is the greatest lifeline in a battlefield Commander, so I'd rather offend you than someone who might hold my life and death in their palms one day," Kael retorts with grin of his own.
"Glad to know you got your priorities straight," Arasha states as she gestures Kael to continue with his training.
"I'm fully healed and yet Leta still treats me like a fragile child..." Arasha sighed as she mused while watching Kael resuming his training.
Arasha might be a little bit annoyed with Leta's nagging but deep inside appreciates Leta's concern and care.
Arasha thoughts then drifted on the plan of how to handle the case of the awakened ones and other matters concerning the kingdom.
It's been a while since Arasha started watching Kael—he noticed their Commander was still observing him, he paused, then, in a light tone, states, "It's been… an honor."
Arasha raised a brow. "Hm?"
Kael's statement snatched her attention back to the present.
"Working in your order," Kael clarified. "You asked me before how I found it. I suppose I never gave you an answer."
Arasha studied him.
He looked the same as always—relaxed, confident—but there was a weight in his voice.
"An honor, is it?" she said, watching him carefully.
Kael tilted his head and questions with a half a smile. "Why? Surprised?"
Arasha exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "An honor? Surprised? Yes, with the fact that you seem to know flattery words."
"It's no flattery. It' the truth. And you know it." Kael declared as he looked Ashara in the eye.
"Is that so." Arasha answered trying to decide of Kael really meant what he said sincerely.
And perhaps a part of her had expected him to feel out of place. A noble-born exile, now among knights and warriors who fought with blood and sweat, not politics and birthright.
Yet, here he was, calling it an honor.
She tapped her fingers against her arm, her mind shifting slightly—not away from the weight of her plans, but now with something steadier beneath them.
She was not alone in this.
Even if the burden of leadership was hers to carry, there were others willing to fight beside her.
Perhaps… just perhaps, they would find a way to shoulder it together.
****
Arasha exhaled as she put down her pen, her gloved fingers pressing against the worn wooden surface of her desk.
The plan was done.
Not flawless—far from it—but it would do.
She couldn't afford to waste more time chasing perfection while nobles picked apart the Awakened like vultures. Reports had already reached her that some of the newly gifted were being coerced, extorted, or outright taken.
That had to end. Now.
Her strategy was simple yet efficient—she would let the Awakened within her order be the ones to recruit and watch over the newly awakened.
They understood what it meant to suddenly gain power. To be feared. To be wanted.
They would protect their own.
Arasha, on the other hand, would handle the logistics.
And that meant securing funding.
She steeled herself. This time, she would have to use her family connections.
Her royal blood had always been a chain in the eyes of the court. A stain. But today, she would make it a weapon.
Pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment, she began to write—not to the king, not to the nobles, but to someone who truly held power.
Her great-aunt, Vamira Steelheart.
A hero among the dwarves. A warrior. A woman whose name alone could shake empires.
And, more importantly—
An expert in mithril mining.
Arasha's gift allowed her to sense veins of the precious metal, something she had long ignored for fear of how the royals might use her. But now, it was her resource to wield.
She detailed the locations she had detected, their potential yield, and her request—help in handling the mines and securing the wealth needed to fund the Awakened's future.
When the letter was sent, she expected days of waiting.
Vamira's reply arrived within hours.
The parchment was thick, the ink bold and unforgiving.
The message? Scathing.
"You thick-skulled child. You wait until NOW to ask for my help?! I would have had those mines running YEARS ago if you had just told me!"
Arasha exhaled through her nose, a mix of amusement and exasperation bubbling in her chest.
Vamira continued, detailing plans to mobilize miners, secure the veins, and ensure that not a single noble laid a greedy finger on their operation.
At the very end, in slightly softer handwriting, Vamira added:
"You are your mother's daughter. Stubborn to a fault. Next time, don't wait so long to ask for help."
Arasha allowed herself a rare, small smile.
The plan was set.
The recruits would come. The funds would be secured.
Now, it was time to act.
****
The Grand Hall of the Royal Assembly was filled with a sea of nobility, clergy, and high-ranking officials—each dressed in their finest silks, their chests adorned with medals and sigils that signified power and lineage.
Yet, despite their grandeur, there was an air of tension—a growing unease—as the woman at the center of the room spoke with deadly precision.
Arasha stood alone, yet she was unshaken.
She was no politician, no court-trained noble, yet she wielded words as she did her blade—efficiently, mercilessly, and with absolute purpose.
"…And so, under the Articles of Sovereign Defense," Arasha continued, her voice steady and commanding, "it is within my right as Commander of the Scion Order to recruit, train, and mobilize any individuals deemed necessary to combat threats beyond conventional warfare."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
She wasn't finished.
"The Awakened fall under this category. Their emergence stems from the rifts, an anomaly neither the Crown, the Nobility, nor the Church has adequately prepared for."
A sharp glance toward the clergy sent a clear message—your divine authority failed to foresee this.
She turned to the nobles. "Your men and resources were insufficient. We fought with what little we had, and yet we succeeded. Without my order, the rifts would have consumed this kingdom already."
More murmurs. A few scowls. Some nobles whispered among themselves, but none dared to speak—yet.
Arasha took one deliberate step forward.
"You claim that the Awakened are a matter of national security," she continued, addressing the royal representatives. "I agree. That is why I propose to take them under my command."
A murmur turned into outright protest.
The High Minister of Laws, an elder noble with a hawkish face, stepped forward. "The Crown cannot entrust an independent military force with unregulated gifted individuals. The Awakened must be monitored and placed under the authority of—"
"—A system that has failed to handle every crisis this kingdom has faced?" Arasha cut in sharply.
The man flinched.
A few nobles laughed under their breath.
Arasha pressed on.
"The Kingdom's own laws, as per the Treaty of Stalburg, explicitly state that any military faction established to deal with extra-normal threats is permitted autonomous jurisdiction over its recruitment, provided they operate within the boundaries of the law."
She turned her gaze to the King himself, her uncle, who sat upon his gilded throne, watching her with barely contained disdain.
"The Crown, the Church, and the Nobility have no legal grounds to deny my request."
A long silence.
One of the nobles, a Duke, sneered. "You would dare strip us of our right to oversee the Awakened? To let these… these lowborns run wild under your protection?"
Arasha's gaze hardened.
"The Awakened are not mere weapons for you to hoard or manipulate." Her voice rang through the hall. "They are people. People who have already bled and fought to protect this land while you feasted in your halls."
The words hit their mark. Again.
Some nobles averted their eyes. Others clenched their fists.
But none could dispute her claim.
Silence stretched—until the Archbishop of the Church of the Radiant Crown finally spoke.
"We do not deny your… contributions, Commander Arasha," he said slowly, his voice measured. "But surely, you do not suggest that the Church should have no say in this matter?"
Arasha smiled—a dangerous, knowing smile.
She had expected this.
And she had prepared for it.
"Of course not, Your Eminence," she said smoothly. "I acknowledge the Church's vested interest in this phenomenon. That is why I propose a condition."
She pulled out a prepared document and placed it on the table before the gathered nobles, royals, and clergy.
"The Church may conduct spiritual evaluations of the Awakened—so long as these evaluations do not interfere with their training or forcibly revoke their rights as citizens."
A clever compromise. It satisfied the Church's demand for oversight while ensuring they could not brand the Awakened as heretics or threats.
Arasha watched as the Archbishop's expression soured—he had no choice but to accept, lest he seem unreasonable.
Then, the High Minister of Laws, desperate to regain ground, spoke again.
"If we must allow this—" he gritted his teeth "—then the Crown should have the right to conscript the Awakened for military service."
Arasha tilted her head slightly.
"And should the Awakened refuse?" she asked, her voice mild.
The noble hesitated. "…Then they would be required to serve for a duration—"
"No," Arasha interrupted.
Several heads turned to her in shock.
She elaborated, elegantly twisting the condition to her favor.
"The Awakened may serve under the Crown—voluntarily. Those who do so will be provided proper training, compensation, and security. However, if the Crown wishes to demand service, then they must first provide adequate accommodations, protections, and rights equal to those of the nobility."
A stunned silence.
Then—uproar.
"You would elevate these… these commoners—"
"To the status of knights?" Arasha finished for them.
More outrage.
But among the voices of protest, some nobles had fallen silent.
They saw what she had done.
By framing the condition this way, the nobles would either have to:
Pay and treat the Awakened as true warriors, ensuring they would not be discarded.
Or accept that the Awakened would serve elsewhere—under her command.
She had won.
The opposition had no choice but to reluctantly concede.
The King—her uncle—watched her, his expression cold and unreadable.
But in the end, he did not object.
With the final decree signed and sealed, the rights to the Awakened officially fell under her jurisdiction.
She had outplayed them all.
As the nobles began to disperse, some still voicing frustration, Arasha allowed herself a single moment to exhale.
It wasn't victory. Not yet.
But it was the first step to securing the future she envisioned.