Later that evening, after both girls had grown tired of sulking in their rooms, they drifted into the parlor room of the mansion.
Their eyes met with a faint glare, but they each settled on opposite ends of the same couch.
Cadre sat stiffly, arms crossed, trying hard not to look like she'd been sulking.
Sonder sat composed, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
The general and Vell had been deep in conversation, but they fell quiet when the girls entered.
The general slouched in a worn armchair, boots off for comfort, though his sword belt remained, the sword itself absent.
The general let the silence stretch.
"You both remind me of soldiers I once knew," he said finally. "Fought together during the Seventh Campaign. One was lean, quiet, and never raised his voice. The other was loud, reckless, and didn't like rules much. Both were good. But neither made it home."
The girls said nothing, but they were listening.
Cadre shifted after a moment. "What happened to the loud one?"
The general took a sip from a small metal flask and set it on the table. "Didn't wait for orders. He thought he saw a chance during a retreat and charged in alone. He was wrong. We couldn't reach him in time. The cost was high."
He looked at each girl in turn. "Bravery isn't wisdom. And winning doesn't always mean you were right."
Cadre lowered her eyes.
The general leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"There was a night, when I was young, we were pinned down in a ravine. Enemy force twice our size. Freezing cold, low on food. I thought about sneaking out—alone—to hit their supply wagons. Thought maybe it'd change the fight."
He gave a dry laugh. "I even wrote a note, like some tragic young hero."
Cadre glanced up. "You didn't go?"
"No, I didn't," he said. "My commander found the note. He yelled at me—but not in anger. He sat me down and told me something I never forgot."
"What was it?" Sonder asked.
"That a sword's only as good as the hand behind it. And that hand has to know why it fights."
The fire crackled softly.
"I've trained a lot of soldiers since," the general continued. "Used a lot of methods. Some are harsh. Some worse than harsh."
He looked to Vell for a moment, considered, and then looked to Cadre directly. "You're not in trouble for losing. You're not even in trouble for being angry. But you're going to earn back your place—through discipline."
Cadre nodded, her voice quieter. "Yes, Grandfather."