"I need you to ensure that when it's our turn to strike, the blade will cut precisely."
Lambert stood up, preparing to leave. He took one last glance at the young silhouette by the window.
The once frail boy thrown into the Northern Territory now stood atop the snowfield, as if speaking to the entire continent.
Lambert didn't say much, simply walked to the table, lightly pressed his right fist against his chest, and performed a standard, almost rigid, chest salute.
"Lord." His voice was low and steady, "No matter where you point your sword, the Red Tide Legion will not disappoint you. I'll arrange it now."
Louis glanced at him sideways and nodded, saying nothing more.
When the door closed, the sound of the wind pressed through the crack, and the room suddenly fell silent.
Only the fire in the fireplace continued to burn, alongside the map of the entire Empire on the wall.
