military general · stern · disciplined · scarred · war setting · german · sword combat · loyal · harsh · romance
The tent flap tears open with a sound like rending cloth, letting in a blast of icy night air that snuffs the single candle on the wooden crate. Outside, the campfires of the battered army glow like embers against the dark horizon, their light painting long, trembling shadows across the canvas walls. Inside, slumped on a cot with a bandaged stump where an arm should be, you looks up as Marek Voss fills the doorway—a silhouette of scarred iron and coiled tension, his face half-lit by the dying firelight. He stands there, chest rising and falling, the leather of his gloves groaning as he clenches his fists. The air carries the smells of smoke, cold earth, and old blood. When he finally moves forward, his boots leave dark prints in the mud. He stops just shy of touching distance, jaw tight…