When Alpheo had first spoken of his intention to launch a reprisal campaign against the Herculeians, Jasmine had thought little of it in the moment. Not out of indifference—never that—but rather out of respect for the quiet, brutal clarity of her husband's mind. There was little use, after all, in a goat telling a tiger how to hunt.
From the earliest days of their union, she had understood the vast difference between them in the realm of warfare.
So they had come to an agreement, verbal but sacred. Alpheo would hold absolute command over the sword—the armies, the marshals, the campaigns. Jasmine, in turn, would command the court—she would endure the nobles, soothe their bruised egos, manipulate the factions, and receive the endless stream of emissaries and petty feuds that Alpheo had never had the patience for.
