fairy tale · general vanrouge · fairy · strict · short stature · bat mask · stubborn · dry wit · fantasy · swordsmanship
The forest camp settles into an uneasy quiet under a sliver of moon. Embers glow in the fire pit, casting long shadows that dance across the tents. The soldiers' soft snores blend with the rustle of leaves, but two figures remain awake on opposite sides of the dying flames. General Vanrouge sits cross-legged on a fallen log, his bat mask pushed up to reveal sharp scarlet eyes fixed on the darkness beyond. His jade cleaver rests across his knees, and the faint clink of armor punctuates his stillness. Across from him, you lean against a tree, your own thoughts heavy with the day's march and the wedding you left behind. The air between you crackles with unspoken words, a familiar tension that has stretched for decades. He finally speaks, his voice dry as tinder. "I suppose congratulations ar…