Returning from the gatehouse with a smile, Kane stepped inside the armory, hoping for a quiet afternoon of inventory checks and supply planning.
High up in the rafters, Griselda was already buzzing around with endless energy, chirping happily while chasing stray dust specks and knocking loose straw onto the floorplates below.
Before he could even open his interface to review weapon production rates, a familiar figure stepped out from behind the spear racks to block his path.
Thora wore her fitted training gear, spinning a blunt wooden spear smoothly between her palms with a challenging grin.
"You’ve been hiding in towers and haggling with merchants all morning, chief," Thora teased, tapping the wooden butt of the spear against his boot.
"My muscles are turning to stone from waiting, and my soldiers need to see their leader actually swing a blade instead of a quill."
"I am managing our supply lines, Thora," Kane answered, catching the spinning shaft with two fingers to halt her momentum.
"A warlord who only knows how to hit things usually ends up dead and broke."
"Then come hit things with me so we can stay alive together," she countered, stepping close enough that the scent of fresh soap and leather oil lingered in the air between them.
"Unless our fearless leader is suddenly afraid of getting a few bruises from his vanguard?"
’She’s using reverse psychology on me, and it is painfully obvious,’ Kane noted with an internal sigh.
’The trouble is, she knows I never turn down a challenge from my own commanders.’
"I am not afraid of bruises, but my schedule is packed with logistics."
"Logistics can wait since your soldiers need morale, and watching me disarm you in the training ring will provide plenty of entertainment."
"Who says you would disarm me?"
"We can test that right now unless you prefer hiding behind your ledgers until evening."
"You are growing arrogant because I let you win our last footrace."
"You did not let me win anything since I outran you fair and square across the drawbridge!"
Reaching for a wooden practice sword from the nearest rack to humor his vanguard leader, Kane paused as the oak doors swung wide open, revealing Misha carrying a silver tray with steaming cups of herbal tea.
She stepped gracefully over a discarded buckler on the floor, ignoring the warrior’s immediate glare while offering her husband a brilliant, dangerously innocent smile.
"Step aside, Thora," Misha instructed sweetly, holding out a freshly brewed cup toward Kane.
"My husband has already undergone a rigorous physical assessment today, and his energy reserves belong entirely to the oracle until evening."
"Your magical assessments look an awful lot like naptime, Misha," Thora scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest while refusing to yield an inch of floor space.
"He is a warrior first, and his sword arm needs proper exercise before we march on the Elves."
"I assure you his sword arm is functioning perfectly," Misha fired back, her eyes flashing with playful defiance as she stood her ground.
"Perhaps if you spent less time blindfolded in the yard, you would realize a warlord requires refinement, not just sweat."
Oh shit.
’I’m standing between a jealous oracle and a bored vanguard leader, and neither of them plans on retreating,’ Kane thought, taking a careful sip of the tea to buy himself some time.
’If I pick a side right now, the casualties will be catastrophic.’
"He agreed to spar with me first," Thora insisted, tapping her spear impatiently against the floor.
"We need to practice breaking illusion formations, and he holds the bypass codes in his head."
"He holds the entire kingdom in his hands, whereas you only care about hitting shields with sticks," Misha countered, linking her free arm around Kane’s elbow to claim her territory.
"He promised me his afternoon since I spent all morning organizing his temple designs."
"You spent all morning keeping him locked in his bedchambers while the rest of us actually worked!"
"That was hard work too, Thora. You should try being gentle sometime instead of yelling at recruits."
"I’m gentle when the situation calls for it!"
"Crushing bandit camps before breakfast is hardly gentle."
"At least I don’t need magic to keep my man in one room!"
"You wouldn’t know how to keep a man in a room even if you locked the doors from the outside!"
"Both of you stop before the guards start taking bets on who wins this argument," Kane interjected, though a humorous smile tugged at his lips while he watched them clash.
"They already take bets on us every single week," Thora pointed out without looking away from Misha.
"And I am currently favored by three to one."
"Only because your soldiers are loyal to a fault," Misha sniffed proudly, tightening her grip on Kane’s arm.
"The intelligent men bet on magic."
Above their heads, Griselda swooped down in a sudden dive, snatching a shiny silver tassel right off Misha’s sleeve before fluttering back up to the rafters with a triumphant screech.
While Misha gasped in outrage and Thora barked a laugh at the sudden theft, Kane glanced toward the far corner of the room where Firlia sat perched on a tall stack of weapon crates.
She had been there the entire time, her nose buried in a ledger while her quill scratched endlessly against the parchment, completely immune to the romantic tension filling the room.
"Do not mind them, Commander," Firlia stated without lifting her gaze from her columns of numbers.
"If they end up breaking these new spear racks during their little territorial dispute, I am simply deducting the repair costs directly from both of their monthly salaries."
"You care nothing for romance, Firlia," Kane sighed, shaking his head as Misha began casting a harmless levitation spell to chase Griselda through the rafters above them.
"Romance does not pay the blacksmiths, Commander," Firlia replied, dipping her quill into an inkpot with steady precision.
"We made four hundred silver coins while they were arguing over your schedule, which means their jealousy is currently our most profitable asset."
’Firlia is the only sane person in this entire stronghold, though her obsession with gold is eventually going to rival my own system,’ Kane amused himself with the thought while watching Misha float toward the ceiling.