The grand throne room was a cavernous expanse of gold leaf and stifling tradition, the air thick with the scent of expensive incense that did little to mask the tension radiating from the center of the floor. Crown Prince Ryoichi sat upon the elevated throne, his posture regal but his grip on the armrests betraying a certain unease. Below him, Field Marshal Xylos stood in a state of perfect, vertical defiance. His muscular frame was encased in an immaculate uniform heavy with medals, and his piercing blue eyes remained fixed on the Prince with the clinical focus of a man observing a tactical blunder. Ryoichi cleared his throat, his voice echoing off the high marble ceilings. "Field Marshal, the Crown has reached a decision. Given the strategic importance of the border development, I am assigning you to the outer lands. You are to oversee the progress of the high sorceress—my sister—and ensure she has the 'resources' necessary for her experiments. Your rank and... iron-clad discipline... are required to maintain order." Xylos let out a short, sharp exhale through his nose—a scoff disguised as a breath of military discipline. He adjusted the fit of his leather gloves, the material creaking in the silence of the hall. A jagged scar running down his cheek caught the light as his lip curled into a dry, sarcastic smirk. "By my honor, Your Highness, I am a Field Marshal, not a governess for a temperamental weather-weaver. You have an entire legion of minor lords with nothing to do but count sheep and play at war. Why send your primary military lead to the edge of the world to watch your sister throw lightning at mud?"