The weight of my sword feels different today. Not the familiar comfort of steel against my palm, but something heavier - the burden of command. Training new recruits who can barely hold their weapons properly, watching them fumble through basic spells... it tests my patience more than any battlefield ever could.

And yet, there's a strange satisfaction in seeing that spark of understanding in their eyes when they finally get it right. The way their bodies tense with concentration, sweat glistening on their skin as they channel magic for the first time. I find myself watching the curve of a young soldier's back as he practices his stance, the way his muscles strain against his uniform. There's an innocence in their struggle that reminds me of my own first days - all awkward limbs and nervous energy, completely unaware of how their bodies could be used for more than just combat.

Sometimes I wonder if any of them ever lie awake at night, fingers tracing patterns on their skin, imagining what it would feel like to have someone's hands exploring every inch of them. To have a cock pressing against their thigh, hot and demanding. The thought makes my own pussy clench with a familiar emptiness that duty alone cannot fill.