𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙠𝙬𝙤𝙣

If all is fair in love and war, I can’t do this anymore.

Months of peace bled into years, but what did this do for the General? His mind has knotted from the sourceless rage, the guilt of injuring the only person who ever meant anything to him, and the stress of trying to find himself in the tangle while running a faction. Is he the man he was before? The man so emotionless he was nicknamed the wall? Or is he the drill sergeant who threw his subordinate into a building for using their personal relationship to lecture him in front of others? Is he neither?

He didn’t find out before seven of his men were killed mere feet from his territory.

The General, the man numb aside from the inferno of rage in his chest, sought violence. He craved it, without reason, without the promise of a return. He sought violence for violence’s sake and the thirst caused cracks his logical mind had to smooth in his carefully crafted façade; imaged after the man he used to be. The Kings who met with him regularly had noticed the subtle changes, and none could say for certain how he would react to the news.

It had been eerie.

Jihoon’s expression hadn’t moved as they read him the report. Seven dead Spades, the highest ranked a Ten. Three missing Spades, the highest ranked a Six. None had been above the Public clearance level. Injuries on the deceased consistent with an ambush, two of the dead had been simultaneously taken down with arrows through the throat and the rest had a mix of defensive wounds mixed in. Timed perfectly to miss the regular patrols the faction sent through the roads that led to the Joker, the ambush was a result of a too-regimented schedule.

Dead silence aside from a single fingertip, thudding rhythmically into the solid wooden desk of the Ace.

Minutes later, a profound quiet. 

Deafening in the absence of his tapping. 

He dismisses them, a curt wave of the hand towards the door all the allowance the soldiers need to bolt from the room. None were spellswords, so none could tell the pressure of his aura stemmed not only from his presence and his power over them, but the gradual depletion of ambient mana from the room as the General drew it all unto himself.

Limbo.

The day the Deck comes out, he watches. His eyes and ears all over the city watch messengers scurry, the new Club Council meets, a copy of the letter meant for all Clubs shows up on his desk before the councilors get them on the doors of half their people.

However wouldn’t you say it would be preferable for one of ours to receive any kind of punishment from us and not from any outsiders? Don’t you think we at least deserve to handle our own matters?

A fucking clown who was never meant to rule. “You lost the right to discipline your own when they murdered mine.” The letter shakes in The General’s hands, all signs of Jihoon gone as the vitriol and rage battle for dominance within his throat. “You can have them back when I’ve skinned them alive.”

ACTIONS TAKEN;

During the Civil War Clubs who were family members of Spades were allowed to stay within Spade territory. The number of Clubs who ended up requesting refuge was high, so the Arena was emptied out and turned into a camp. While the camp has since emptied, there were a few stragglers, primarily those who are living with their Spade family members in the faction’s housing. All Clubs have 48 hours to return to their territory or defect to the Spades. All Clubs found within Spade territory after September 9th will be killed on sight.

All Clubs are now Banned from utilizing the Joker. Club merchants who attempt to move product through the Joker will have their product seized and be thrown back into their own territory if they do not retaliate. Clubs who retaliate will be killed.

All Merchants making deliveries to Club Territory will be subject to a 100% tax rate, as opposed to the 10% tax rate enjoyed by the rest of the factions.

It is highly suggested but not required, that all Spades avoid Club territory.

A specialized team of Black Spades have been tasked with the duty of discovering who was behind the attack on September 6th. They have been given a large sum of money and free reign on all tactics to get the job done, but nothing is known of the team members.

Patrol schedules have been randomized and have also increased.

Family members of the Spades killed in the ambush have been given compensation equivalent to the payouts seen in wartime. It is unlikely your muse would know this unless they are or were a Spade, and close enough to one of the families that they would be informed of the compensation price. If you think your muse would know this, open a ticket.

OOC INFORMATION;

The General has taken severe actions against the Clubs because of the letter sent out to Club Households. It is likely his actions would have been less severe had he not seen this letter. It is unlikely your muse would know this, or guess this. That being said, if you have a convincing reason you think your muse would know or guess this, open a ticket with the Admins to receive permission before posting anything.

Threads with Spade muses in Club territory need to be dated before September 8th. Any threads that take place after the 8th in-play must @ kadeunpc in the starter or be sent in a ticket on Discord.

Threads with Club muses in Spade territory need to be dated before September 8th. Any threads that take place after the 8th in-play must @ kadeunpc in the starter or be sent in a ticket on Discord.

A LEAP THROUGH TIME; Summary

Life is rarely kind to those who live in Kadeu, but it has been especially turbulent for the General in recent years. After the blistering headache he experienced in early 2021, gradual changes overcame the Spellsword until he no longer resembled the man he was when he was first bestowed the rank of Ace. Gone was the Wall, unflinching and steadfast in his logical ruling of the Spade faction. Slowly, he began expressing himself more, but that expression was always anger. He snapped more often, stopped bothering to blunt his tone when dealing with Spade youths, and most noticeably: he started disciplining wrong-doers more harshly.

When this personality change reached a fever pitch, the General decided to oversee a Spellsword training session. Dueling so many students at once was impressive... or rather it would’ve been if their Ace wasn’t indiscriminately debilitating his soldiers with vicious attacks that left many upon deaths door. A nearby King, the one who was meant to be leading the training session, called for every emitter available to save the students. He started relocating those with the worst injuries towards the outskirts as he awaited the arrival of the Triage Center’s crew and would later be remembered respectfully for that decision.

Zhang Maxine showed up with her fellow Emitters, all of whom were shocked by the display as they caught the tail-end of the sudden battle. The only person there who felt like they could approach the General, who was only lightly injured despite the devastation he caused, was the Queen. Unfortunately for her, their short screaming match ended with a pulse of grey mana from the General’s body that sent the Emitter sailing through a weapon’s rack and into the side of one of the buildings.

Accounts of this situation vary greatly. Some claim the General appeared apathetic as he pulled the healer from the rubble, others say he seemed racked with guilt as he carried her unconscious body over to the rest of the triage center members. While no one truly knows how he felt in that moment, its clear that incident had a great effect on him.

Spellswords are a tight-lipped group, so the rumors that spiraled from this affair were largely assumptions that spiraled from vague tellings. The General single-handedly quelled an insurrection, had a violent public altercation with his lover, brutally punished the Spellsword students as a punishment for something they’d done, succumbed to madness like his mother had. The whole truth is known to few who weren’t there to witness it but Jihoon’s worsened temperament is a largely agreed-upon fact.

OUTSIDE LOOKING IN;

Jihoon did not have his injuries magically treated after the one-sided fight against the students, but he is now, physically, fully healed. While the rumor he suffers from madness prevails, whispered occasionally in dark corners, he is not. The aftereffects of the mental manipulation Ares preformed on Jihoon are still there and that is what caused his personality change. 

After he hurt Maxine, Jihoon knew something was wrong with him. He became more introspective, weighing his gut feelings (fueled by unfamiliar anger) against repeatedly thought-through logic chains. While doing so, he was inadvertently fighting Ares’ control over him. Subsequently, Ares grew frustrated and bored with Jihoon, eventually leaving him to his own devices. Of course, that doesn’t mean he fixed the man’s brain on the way out; rather, he gave it one final scramble before he stormed away.

Emotionally struggling with his third eye constantly gazing inward, Jihoon’s refusal to ask for help has caused him to shoulder more stress than necessary. Where the emergence of the Adventurer’s Guild and the revelation of the River Witch’s transgressions should’ve released some of his tensions, the General is as tightly wound as ever. Rage and Logic battle on a knife’s edge and where he falls depends on the moment. 

MOVING FORWARD; OOC

Kwon Jihoon was one of the first NPCs in Kadeu, created even before the NPC blog was spun up. While he will remain on this blog, he should be considered an NPC rather than a character! Plotting with Jihoon will be limited to important character or plot-changing threads.

TLDR; Bullet Points

The General slowly succumbed to the building angry inside him (planted by Ares) and brutally maimed the upcoming group of spellsword students. Zhang Maxine, in trying to stop him, was gravely injured. Unless your character was directly involved it is unlikely they know much if anything about this incident. You must confirm your characters knowledge of this incident with admin grey before using it in any capacity.

Jihoon realized he wasn’t himself and became more introspective, constantly analyzing his own actions to the point of obsession to ensure he wasn’t acting on that anger. Ares grew frustrated and scrambled that area of his brain one last time before he left him alone.

Max straightened up as she listened carefully to Jihoon’s reply, gaze still flickering back and forth between the man’s eyes as if desperate to find something there. There was, of course, yet nothing. His words should be reassuring, but they weren’t. It didn’t help for him to say that he’d done nothing different, that nothing had changed, when something so obviously had.

‘Their affliction.’ Max’s lips pressed into a thin line as she crossed her arms over her chest, but she kept her thoughts to herself; she hated whenever Jihoon mentioned the fate he was destined for as a Spellsword, as if ignoring it was enough to circumvent the inevitable. The knowledge she’d likely outlive him was bad enough, based on the disparity of their lifespans alone. The presumption she’d lose him to a madness that couldn’t be avoided was worse, something that threatened to steal away those last precious years.

Putting the thoughts forcibly from mind, Max nodded once, more curtly than intended. “Okay. Well– something’s going on, but if you think it’s fine, I’ll take your word for it.” Foolish, maybe, since Jihoon was the sort of person who’d insist he was fine as he bled out on the battlefield. “The second anything changes, though, don’t hesitate to call for me again, yeah?” She hoped he wouldn’t, but felt the point was worth stressing anyway. She’d have to ask some of the elder Emitters if they’d run into anything like this before, but carefully conceal the fact it was the General’s benefit for which she needed to know.

“And taking some time off is a good idea,” Max added a little more gently, again leaning in to press the backs of her knuckles to Jihoon’s temple. “So, take all the time you need. Doctor’s orders.”

WHERE ART THOU; AIRANG

Jihoon is not his usual self, though it’s likely the only person who has picked up on his changes is Maxine. Or rather, she would’ve been the only one who picked up on them if she hadn’t been avoiding him since Airang. The General lacks emotional depth but he is not a fool; he knows what the emitter sought that night, though his feelings towards the subject have been muddled after finding out how the crimson mists affected the rest of the city.

Part of him worries why his own mental state went unaffected. If he had been affected perhaps that would’ve provided him some gods-given clarity, but since he wasn’t... what does that mean? Will the questions he doesn’t have the courage to ask forever go unanswered? Is it because something is wrong with him or is he just Different?

Luckily, depending on how one looks at it, Airang created a rather large headache for the Ace to distract himself with. Many partners sought (or were forced to seek) counseling to deal with the aftermath of that cursed day. The shuffle was relatively easy given how many people wanted to switch departments, but only so many allowances were made. Partners who were forced to work in the same department as the person (or persons) with whom they had awkward Airang interactions were given counseling priorities. All in all, aside from a few outlying situations the Spades are already back to ‘normal’ after Aphrodite’s interference.

THE CIVIL WAR; CLUBS

Whilst less than joyful about the situation in Clubs, Jihoon also isn’t displeased with the chaos. Aside from the fact it’s been a useful city-wide distraction from the ongoing issue of corruption, it’s also presented an opportunity to force the unruly faction to adopt some rules. Part of the Ace’s brain, as well as some of his cabinet members, are insisting they take the territory over but the General still isn’t sold on this plan. He’s put plans in place, of course, but he will not act upon them until he feels the timing is right and that it’s the best thing for his faction as a whole. This, to a point, includes the Club’s feelings as well since, if the Spades really did take over, they would be his citizens too.

About a month ago he sent a few Black Spades into the Club faction to sow chaos and influence the talks about a governmental structure. Or any structure, really. Their success levels have varied but he’s been pleased with the results.

THE CORRUPTION; WATER

From the outside the Spades have been doing well against the corruption. There were a few times their meat supply dropped and the Civilians were put on vegetarian rations but that was about the worst of it. After the farms outside the city sold off their livestock this problem has all but disappeared. With the Diamond water elementalists now forced to provide water at a fixed rate, the Spades have been able to refill their depleted stocks despite the influx of Club families taking refuge in their territory.

MENTAL BLOCK; ARES

Unbeknownst to anyone including himself, Jihoon’s mind is being slowly influenced by the seedling Ares inserted into his mind. There are certain decisions he’s mulling over that he would’ve dismissed immediately mere weeks ago. Adding a kind tone to his voice has always been a conscious decision on Jihoon’s part, and he’s been making that decision less frequently. While he is not hostile, his emotionless bearing is gradually becoming more prickly as the days pass. None of this is overtly obvious in observation of the man nor the actions he takes, but the change is present.

This worried her. Everything about this worried her. Call it intuition, call it overprotectiveness, call it what you like – Max couldn’t keep a lid on her concern. It’d be bad enough if it was some tricky headache she’d have to work harder to soothe, but this wasn’t natural. Something had been done, and Max could only assume that the ‘something’ wasn’t good.

The barrier frustrated her even as she was careful not to test it too directly, keeping only an absent attention on his words. She hated hearing the pain in Jihoon’s voice, and hated it more knowing there was little she was apparently able to do about it.

Max circled to the front of the chair, leaning in to rest a hand on one arm as the other gently pushed the damp cloth back from Jihoon’s eyes to rest at his forehead. “Look at me for a sec, okay?” Practiced professionalism kept most of the trepidation from her face and her voice, but Max couldn’t keep all of it from her gaze as her eyes searched his. She didn’t know what she was looking for, not really, but all she knew was she wasn’t finding anything in the usual depths of his soft brown eyes.

“Did you… I dunno, try anything different? With your mana.” Max rested her free hand against his cheek, the skin warm beneath her cool fingertips. She was grasping at straws; she knew the barrier of mana wasn’t his, she knew what Jihoon felt like. But the alternative was terrifying: that something, or someone, other than Jihoon had taken up space inside his head.

Obeying silently, Jihoon met Maxine’s gaze with eyes that spoke of exhaustion and apathy. Normally one to throw himself into his work, the General was genuinely contemplating taking the day - or at least the morning - off. Perhaps taking the time to sleep would restore him to his usual self.

“Not at all,” Jihoon replied in a sure tone. “I didn’t even run through a meditation cycle this morning. Yesterday I ran through one of my regular regimens.” A small worry gnawed at his subconscious that he was starting to lose his mind just like his mother had. But he was too young for that.... wasn’t he? He almost wished the woman were still alive just so he could ask her if she’d ever experienced anything like this.

The cool digits against his cheek drew a weary smile from the Spellsword and he reached up to envelop her hand in his. “I’m sure it’s fine. I’ll probably take the morning off to rest and then visit some of our older spellswords later. Headaches like this one aren’t a prelude to their affliction so far as I know, but I’ll check it out anyway. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve done some casual visitations.”

Billie presses a closed fist over her heart and dips into a short bow before she shakes the General’s hand. Her eyes are trained somewhere to the left of his gaze. Eye contact would be too presumptuous, if the previous Ace’s mood swings had taught her anything. 

She didn’t sit until after Jihoon did, and even then, she flicked through the first couple of pages in the folder before she took her seat. It was strange. She had noticed it in their previous few and far between meetings as well. With the previous Ace, Billie had always felt on edge. Their mana was spiked, uncontrolled. She always felt she was moments from a fight she wouldn’t win. Jihoon was just as powerful, of course, if not more powerful, but his mana felt tight as a bow string. It seeped into every molecule of the room. It felt smoother. Safer.

It was ridiculous and naïve, but she almost trusted him. “If you’re interested, sir, so am I.” 

In her years as a Spellsword, Billie had developed sources in all of the territories. Clubs had been feeding her information for months. Some of the intelligence in the folder, she had been able to glean on her own. Some was new. She had no doubt, given official clearance to start sticking her nose into Club business, more would become clear. In her experience, no one ever truly wanted to keep their secrets when given a choice.

“I am generally familiar with the Club predicament.” She closed the folder and finally met Jihoon’s eye. “What can I do to help my people?”

Retzah’s reply was expected and the General nodded his approval as the pair made eye contact. “I’m glad you’ve been keeping up with the current situation in Clubs; just so we’re on the same page I’ll be going over the basics written the dossier and then explain your mission.” Moving one of the far papers to the center of the desk, Jihoon gestured to the warring factions and locations within the neighboring territory as he spoke. 

“There are currently three groups fighting for control of Clubs: Kol Thagard’s faction, HIM’s faction, and the Resistance. The fact the city’s tattoo curse still recognizes Thagard as the sole Ace in Club territory is interesting but at the end of the day it doesn’t cement his power; especially given he didn’t rise to his station according to Club tradition.”

Club tradition didn’t mean anything to the Spade, but it did mean something to the Club civilians. In Jihoon’s eyes, this meant Thagard would never survive as Ace regardless of how this war went. “HIM is a Spade favorite; I’m sure you’ve seen him defend his champion status in the Arena before.” While the General didn’t frequent the Arena, he did stop by around once a month and had met HIM before. The Shifter had an obvious drug problem that made him erratic and unpredictable, but he was also charismatic and, apparently, smart enough to hand running ‘the barbarians’ to other individuals.

“The man is a natural leader despite his drug problems and, while his groups’ actions are heavy-handed, seems to have the most vocal support base; especially after Thagard imprisoned the faction’s water elementalists. He is the face of his group but he is not the leader despite what many believe. Rather, he has a council of Clubs that all coordinate and run different sections of the city. Defense, Community outreach, et cetera.”

“Lastly, the Resistance. Their movements are harder to discern but at the moment it looks like they’re gearing up to take down one of the others. We’ve always enjoyed a symbiotic relationship with the Resistance so I’m not particularly worried about their actions so long as they don’t interfere with ours if it comes to that point.” It was more likely when but there was no need to delve into that weighty discussion at the moment. 

“Our latest tells us HIM has a foothold in the Forge, though it looks more like he’s defending it than forcing the blacksmiths to create weapons for his group. Thagard controls the Armory, and the Resistance bases are still underground. The Clubs need stability so we need the Resistance to take charge or HIM. Thagard regaining control will only cause trouble for us.” Jihoon would mobilize the army and take control of Clubs himself before he let their civil war break their faction.

“I need you to investigate Thagard. Do what you can to sow chaos in his ranks and disrupt his plans; if you meet anyone in the Resistance offer your assistance. If you meet any of HIM’s people try to stay out of their way but be less forthright about helping them. Weekly reports, if possible. Details on what we know about all faction movements is in the dossier but where and how you start are up to you. I’ve already given you full access to Warehouse Alpha, take whatever you need.”

Don’t Ask Again for the Moon

Prepared to own my title Turn a blind eye to the dirt Lotus grows and blossoms out of the mud The path I still walk Never turning back

In the days of the former General, Billie was on assignment for months at a time. Hardly ever did she retreat back to being Ema in her shop. Under General Kwon, her life had turned almost completely on its head. Part of the reason she’d begun opening the shop to the public was the preponderance of dusty evenings spent alone in the shop. 

She sharpened every blade she owned. She trained in the back garden, at night, while the rest of the town slept. Still, the General summoned her less. It set her teeth on edge. She woke from fitful sleep with a bloody lip her teeth had gnawed through or a sharp ache in her hands where she had clenched them into fists for hours in her sleep. 

She became a better painter. Her pieces grew frenzied, her strokes haphazard, her subjects desperate. 

When the summons did come, Ema did not sleep. She polished her armor instead and went to see the General at sunrise. 

Ema’s mana was restless. A rabbit flickered in her peripheral vision and fell dead before she had time to consciously realize what it was. She couldn’t appear before the General this way, tense and uncontrolled. A Spellsword was a paragon of discipline and restraint, and Billie in particular was known throughout the higher ranks as an unflappable soldier. It was part of what earned her the position she held as the General’s most clandestine operative. 

She was still wearing the shroud of Ema. It was time to let it slip and finally be herself, be Billie again. 

She’d made good time in her travel and started early, so she stopped to center herself. When she was ready, she continued on. Billie reached the General’s fortress just as the sun peeked above the parapets and made her way to the General’s office. No one challenged her path through the halls and up the staircases. Here, even the people who didn’t know who she was knew what she was. They stepped out of her way. 

She knocked at General Kwon’s office door and stood at attention, blank-faced, waiting to be allowed entrance. 

There were many things about the Spade faction Kwon Jihoon loved. Order. Everything and everyone had a place; none were left out, none who asked were left wondering about their place in life, their place in their faction. Safety. For those who reached out, there was always a hand to help. Community. Every faction had a semblance of community, but the Spades were undeniably tight-knit. Whether it was co-workers in the same facility or hunting parties who literally trust one another with their lives, the sense of Spade community had always filled the General with pride. 

But no faction was perfect. 

There were things Jihoon hated about the Spades, things he’d sought to change ever since he took his position eight years ago. One of the things he’d done his best to avoid using since his election was the Black Spades. While he’d been privy to their movements for over a decade before his Acedom, he hadn’t always agreed with the methods used. Something about covert assassinations and elaborate espionage plots just rubbed Jihoon the wrong way. He understood their necessity, he was no fool, but rather than using his group of elites as a first measure he’d started utilizing them as a last resort.

That brought him to today.

He’d called for Billie Retzah. A Three of Spades Painter named Ema on paper, in practice the woman was one of the better operatives passed onto him. The General didn’t have any particular feelings towards nor about the woman, though he did see flashes of himself in her that he wasn’t sure how to come to terms with. Truthfully, he’d probably used her less in recent years because of the faint resemblance he saw in her. But his feelings had started to shift in recent weeks, and the chaos in Clubs was no longer something he was willing to ignore.

The knock upon his door was sharp and professional. Moving a few of the documents on his desk, the General called a simple ‘Enter’ and waited for the Spellsword to appear. Standing, he held back until the door was closed before he continued, “Retzah, good to see you again.” An empty platitude but a nicety observed for courtesy’s sake, as was the hand extended for a shake.

Tuesday 02 February 2021; Morning. Referencing:

The General has sent a squire, asking you to visit his office. It’s been a while since he’s called you, and when you arrive instead of working he’s sitting in one of the more comfortable armchairs with his eyes closed, a hand covering his eyes. None of the mana lamps are on so the only light source is from the windows. He asks you if you can try to do something about his headache.

Max didn’t even bother to knock when she reached Jihoon’s office, knowing he preferred she didn’t whenever the headache was particularly bad – and she had to assume this one was, considering it was far earlier in the morning than she was usually summoned for such things. The state of his office surprised her as she closed the door behind as quietly as possible, and it took her a moment to find him somewhere other than at his desk.

“Hey,” Max murmured sympathetically as she shut the door behind her, foregoing her characteristically bold nature for something gentler as soon as she saw the pain written in his eyes. Jihoon might be a master of concealing his inner workings from most – and Max assumed there was plenty he kept even from her – but as his Healer, she knew when he was in pain. And she knew this was different.

Pausing by the cart he kept on hand, Max dug in her pocket for a clean handkerchief to dip in a pitcher of cool water and wrung out the excess. A brief detour to the windows saw the thick curtains pulled closed, and she edged around a table covered in his work to stand behind the armchair Jihoon was currently occupying. “Just relax,” she reassured him, one hand squeezing his shoulder as the other settled the damp cloth over his eyes. “Have you right as rain in no time. Okay?”

Settling the careful lengths of her fingers to frame Jihoon’s face, the Emitter let her thumbs brush lightly and soothingly at his temples as she started to work. It was an old, familiar dance, relieving his pain like this – with one notable difference.

As you start the healing process you sense something is off about Jihoon’s brain. It’s almost like there’s a wall around part of his brain and even if you try, your mana cannot penetrate this area.

Max inclined her head and focused anew, summoning more mana and taking a more careful approach. She skirted the edges of what she could perceive, more mapping it than trying to test its boundaries, careful of what might happen to Jihoon if she tried. She’d never encountered anything like this before. The Healer frowned faintly to herself, relieved his eyes were covered seeing as Jihoon could read her just as easily as she’d read him a moment ago.

“This one is a doozy, huh?” Max said mildly, managing to keep the full breadth of concern from her voice – for now. “Did something happen?”​

Icepicks drove themselves through the General’s brain, bringing unbearable pain with them before the agony dissipated like melting frost. Usually, just in time for another lance to drive itself through a different section of the Spellswords brain. As far as headaches went, this one was easily the worst he’s had in decades, and arguably the worst he’s had in his life.

Painful tears throbbed behind Jihoon’s eyes, bringing a greater pressure to his skull that he certainly didn’t need. As the door to his office opened, the man dropped his hand from his face and squinted towards the visitor with a small frown. As Maxine’s voice reached his ears the frown disappeared and the weariness he’d been keeping at bay showed plainly upon his face; in far too much pain to continue the pretense of being okay in front of his healer and his only friend.

Flashing her a weak smile, the General let out a soft sigh of relief as the curtains closed, for once glad the early morning sun would no longer pour into his office. Leaning back into his armchair, he closed his eyes as Maxine laid the damp cloth over his eyes. “Thank you,” he replied quietly, allowing himself to relax as the emitter healed him. Something about it felt different than usual, but the General dismissed his curiosity, too thankful for the lessening of the pain to dwell too much on the sensation.

At her question, Jihoon had to stop himself from nodding his head. “I’m not sure,” he couldn’t imagine it now, but he was almost certain he’d woken up in the night and had an even worse migraine at that time. “It started sometime in the night, though I’m not sure why.” No stranger to headaches, the General could tell this wasn’t his run-of-the-mill stress migraine. Aside from the fact it’d ached worse in every possible meaning of the word, he’d been less stressed these past weeks as his work plateaued rather than continuing to escalate. 

Indeed there was a freedom given Jihoon’s rank, to do just about anything he pleased. Definitely in his own faction and at functions like this, he could dress according to his own sentiments. Many a gathering saw the young in age old man scowling over a glass and dressed in his no doubt itchy military garb. Joui fully expected, if he came, that he would be dressed in those stale grass fabric pieces. 

But no, here he was, dressed like a servant’s, servant. 

It was a clear notion present in this general’s mind, one Joui needed not his abilities to see, he believed he was above such antics. The flighty folk alone love to dress the part. They alone love the glittering gems and gowns and suits that exude their own glow. Jihoon saw Joui as one of those flighty folk, chief of the flighty folk. 

Sir flighty mused a short laugh at the comment about heating. “They must. We are all not capable of emitting our own heat and are accustomed to such standards, crisis or not”, he added though having no intent of discussing such morbid things at a party. Jihoon would probably happily give his take on it and how his faction would do all they good. Blah Blah Blah. Joui was not saving the whole damn continent at a party and most certainly cared not to consider it.

“Oh no,”, he responded to the comment of Kol’s Stepfather. “Not at all like him”, he continued recalling the differences in his meeting with Kol to the man that had a price that held the seat before him. Hearing the gifts presented, Joui couldn’t even laugh. “Of course”, he sang with a sweet grin. “Here’s hoping they don’t burn them for warmth Jiji”, he added then glanced across the floor to see a highranker’s shock when payment was indeed demanded for a drink. “I suppose you care not what I thought appropriate for the unfortunate children”, he said returning his eyes to the would be chimney sweep, that grin remaining as the High Fae was well pleased with himself.

“Mine and yours would make such a nice set!”

Not like him at all. 

Jihoon wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. Park Jitae had been an odd Ace for the Clubs but he had been clever. Poisoning to secure an Ace position was more of a Diamond tactic but it worked out for the man in the end, likely due to his ownership of the Armory many in his faction favored. While Park’s actions had been heavy handed and dictatorial, they had also brought some semblance of order to the historically unruly faction. If Kol Thagard was nothing like his step-father, that could spell disaster for the faction.

Given they bordered Spades and already gave patrols the most trouble, Jihoon wasn’t eager to see what the next few months would bring. Part of him wanted to pry more into what Joui thought of the Clubs leader but he knew instinctively that if he pressed any more he would likely set himself on a path straight back to the office and irritate the Hearts leader. He cared less about the latter, but there was no reason to give himself more work and more enemies tonight.

“It would be a waste to burn them, certainly, but it’s their choice how they use the gifts I suppose,” he shrugged slightly, scanning the crowded pyramid out of habit. “A nice set?” the General looked back to Joui, his eyebrow rising in what (for him) was an expression somewhere between disbelief and curiosity. “I doubt you brought books as well, what did you gift them that would be considered a pair?” 

Your dreamless sleep is interrupted. The world is still black and you are still bodiless but before you towers a presence you cannot help but associate with fire, death, and war. A deep voice resonates through you, “Do you know how long it took me to crack into this head of yours? What was done to you and what you have done to yourself built quite the fortress, but I am not the God of War for nothing.” Gloating laughter reverberates but you find it difficult to think, much less respond.

“Now that you are finally mine, I will bestow upon you a gift. Your supposed ‘clarity’ has limited you, making you too indecisive, I will bestow upon you the fighting spirit of a proper General so you might lead your faction to conquer your enemies through blood, as it should be. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure our meeting stays secret, even to you.”

You wake drenched in sweat, your head throbbing worse than it has in years. When you try to stand, you black out, falling back onto your mattress.

The scariest type of domination is domination invisible to the eye. Those under that type of rule aren’t capable of thinking for themselves and planning their future; they can only let time pass and eat what is given to them. They get drunk on the feeling of satisfaction and achievement and become happy slaves who aren’t even aware that they are being controlled.

Jihoon wakes laying atop his sheets, his body coated in a layer of dried sweat that sends a shiver down his spine. Bringing shaking hand to temple, he presses his fingertips into the tender flesh there as a frown creases his features. It has been years since his head ached like this, since he felt invisible spikes of pain lance through his brain. Rising slowly to his feet, the General strips himself of his nightclothes and moves immediately to his private bath. He will be late today, but his schedule is imposed by none but himself so there will be no problems.

In the water he rests the back of his head against the cold tile. While he feels cleaner, the headache has not lessened. If he’d still been a child he’s certain this pain would wring painful tears from his eyes. As it stands, he is not a child but a man with the weight of a faction on his shoulders; a faction struggling to drink properly. He does not have the luxury nor the time to cry.

Max sank her teeth into her lip to stem at least some of the delight she felt when Jihoon let slip a rare joke and a rarer wink, nodding once but with enthusiasm. “Thank you, General,” she said simply, though the warmth in her tone conveyed far more than that.

She watched the straight, proud line of Jihoon’s back for a moment, then returned her attention to the favor in her hand with another, softer smile. As her thumb brushed over the lines of neat knots she appreciated that it was beautifully woven and accented, but at the same time, that didn’t necessarily matter; he could’ve given Max a piece of string and she still would’ve been this happy, for all she cared about the sentimentality over the appearance.

Without a second thought, Max looped and carefully fastened the charm to her right hip, holding it in place with a distracted smile before she nodded once to herself. Lifting up onto the balls of her feet, she swiveled to head back to her hunting party, a clear new bounce in her step.

It would be a good hunt.

Max didn’t dare comment on the General’s hypocrisies, even if the slow smile she offered in return said she was thinking the exact same thing. Instead, she let that smile carry her through the disappointment when Jihoon confirmed he’d take his leave, but – it hitched again with his follow-up offer.

“Oh,” was all she could say, in a stunningly rare show of speechlessness. In the decade that she’d known him, Max had always seen Jihoon off on his yearly trip by his lonesome, usually with a stern warning not to get himself into trouble where she couldn’t reach him. The invitation to go with him this coming New Year was so casually delivered that she didn’t even have the chance to properly process or eagerly agree before he’d already moved on.

Her expression lingered in surprise for a moment longer when he produced the ornate tassel from the inner pocket of his uniform with a flash of silver, at which point Max couldn’t help but soften and let out a breathless laugh. Catching the fingertip of one of her gloves in her teeth, she pulled a hand free to accept it. The intricate knots and metal embellishments were still warm.

“Thank you.” Max caught her lip with her teeth and smiled, in a vain attempt to corral the breadth of it. She didn’t really succeed. “I, um. I’ll bring you back some spoils from the Hunt. Like, I dunno. Manabeast jerky.”

She paused, then added: “You’ll have to roll the dice on whether it’s corrupt or not, I guess.” That was maybe (okay, probably) in poor taste, but Max had an unfortunate tendency to make inappropriate jokes when she was giddy, and right now, with Jihoon’s intricately woven favor in hand and New Year’s invitation in the back of her mind, she was feeling very giddy.

As he passed the tassel to Maxine the General couldn’t help but smile satisfactorily at her reaction. It wasn’t often he was so obvious about his favor towards the Emitter, but they’d been spending less time together recently as his schedule became tighter. While he’d rather have shared a drink with the woman, the bitter feeling of guilt and duty in his gut told him his schedule wouldn’t be clearing up anytime soon. He knew instinctively that Maxine would forgive his busyness, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to feel like she wasn’t important to him anymore.

If anything, he valued small moments like these all the more the rarer they became. 

While an Ace’s favor shouldn’t be freely given, Jihoon felt comfortable doing at least this much for the woman. In all their years as friends he had never once heard of her exploiting their relationship for her personal benefit. He’d feared she would at first, but as more time passed and she remained her truest self, the General had allowed himself to relax more around her. He doubted there would come a time he laid those feelings bare, but he hoped she understood how deeply grateful he was for her.