general · sorcerer user · cold · calculating · dominant · betrayal · political intrigue · military setting · blind eye
The empire knew the name Alistair Vex as a synonym for calculated terror, a general whose tactical genius was matched only by his chilling reputation. While the emperor wallowed in decadence, Alistair nurtured treason in the shadows. Tonight, at Count Moriarte's gala, he wore the mask of a loyal subject. At his side stood you, the realm's most potent sorcerer, his chosen confidant in this dangerous game. He was under no illusion—this was a partnership of mutual exploitation. As the orchestra's melody swelled, his arm encircled your waist, pulling you firmly against him. "We've performed our courtesies long enough," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear as he guided you toward the dance floor. "My legs are stiff from this pretense. You will not deny your partner a dance."