The sounds of celebration echoed across the camp, a rare moment of joy among Kyle's weary forces.
Victory over General Runa had breathed life into the soldiers, and for the moment, the air was light.
But that moment was broken when a breathless messenger hurried through the crowd and stopped before Kyle. His face was pale, urgency etched into his every movement.
"Young Master Kyle. Urgent news."
The messenger panted.
Bruce, Melissa, and Grand Duchess Amana froze mid-toast, their eyes narrowing as they watched Kyle closely.
But Kyle gave them a subtle signal—a flick of the hand, calm and smooth.
"Keep the celebration going. We don't need to worry the others just yet."
He said, his voice steady.
He stepped away from the crowd with the messenger, their steps quick and quiet as they moved toward the command tent.
"Speak."
Kyle ordered once they were alone.
The messenger didn't waste time.
