The door had barely sealed shut behind Alexander when Edward reappeared, his movements crisp, his voice composed as ever.
"General Halbrecht is waiting."
"Send him in."
A moment later, the door opened again—this time to a heavier presence. General Halbrecht stepped in without ceremony, clad in imperial black trimmed with the silver of his rank, his greatcoat still dusted with the cold bite of morning air. His movements were deliberate, calculated, the kind of stillness that came from decades of battlefield experience rather than courtly polish.
He stopped a precise three paces from the desk and offered a nod. Not a bow.
"Your Majesty."
"Halbrecht." Damian gestured to the seat across from him without looking up from the closed folder still beneath his hand. "You're early."
