For once, I didn’t argue. I turned and pulled her into a hug instead, the fabric of her blouse cool against my cheek, the faint scent of coffee calming me. But while I held her, I leaned in, lips close to her ear, and whispered, “Where did you get the money for your new watch?”

  She stiffened instantly.

  I squeezed her tighter, just enough for her to feel the grin in my voice. “Gotcha.”

  “Lady…” Lola’s voice slipped out like a sigh, barely audible under the clamor of laughter still bouncing through the aula. Her hand lingered on my shoulder, steady but trembling ever so slightly. “Sometimes, you miss something in front of your eyes. And sometimes…”

  She didn’t finish, but I didn’t need her to.

  “I notice people important to me,” I whispered back.

  And then I crushed her into the hug again, burying her against me until the holo she’d been holding slipped awkwardly between us. She made a tiny startled sound, caught it, but didn’t push away.

  When I finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed pink, her lips parting like she’d forgotten how to keep her face professional.

  “Accountant team wrote it off as… representation expense?” She managed, her voice thin.

  I laughed loudly enough that the nearest few people turned their heads. “You know I don’t care.”

  Her lips twitched into a small, hazy smile. But then her gaze unfocused a little, as if she were looking through me instead of at me. “But, Lady, I could…” Her words faltered before she forced them out. “Do whatever I wanted. Poundcake was right to warn us. You are, and thus the kingdom, and the company, too trusting.”

  I brushed my hand down her arm before stepping away, my heels tapping a steady rhythm as I walked toward the double doors. “I trust you, Lola. And that’s enough for me.”

  Behind me, I heard her chuckle, though there was a thread of unease tangled in it. She followed, quick footsteps tapping like punctuation after mine. “You shouldn’t trust people that easily.”

  I glanced back, gave her the quickest grin I could muster. “You can buy the Ferrari.”

  A wink.

  Her expression twisted into pure confusion, her brow knitting in the most adorable Lola way. “Ferrari?”

  I bit down on my lip to stop myself from staring too long at her puzzled face and just nodded, striding into the throne room. Or… whatever we called it now. A party hall, a war chamber… “Yeah,” I said over my shoulder. “So don’t steal. Just tell me.”

  “Lady!” Lola said as she rushed up, catching me by the wrist just as I started climbing the short stairs to the throne dais. “It was… an expense.”

  I turned halfway, blinking at her. “You’re defending yourself a bit too much, Seneschal. So… was it at least within budget?”

  She let me go, lips pressing thin, her hands curling against her holo. I took the last steps and lowered myself onto the throne, the carved wood cool under my palms. My weight hadn’t even fully settled when she leaned closer, loud-whispering beside me.

  “No. It wasn’t.” Her eyes flicked away, embarrassed but stubborn. Then, softer: “But I liked how it ticked. The real tick. And… I liked how it sparkled. Sometimes, I want to be frivolous.”

  The laugh was still bubbling out of me when the doors swung open and the first wave of noise rolled in. That chaotic mix of chatter that only players could carry like a badge of honor.

  And naturally, Llama was first through. “Hi!” I called, raising my hand in a half-wave, half-salute.

  He didn’t bother answering. Just strode up to the throne dais, gave a stiff bow, then plopped himself into the nearest chair like he was here to audit my taxes.

  Not a single word.

  I glanced sideways at Lola. She lifted one perfectly arched brow, shrugged, and kept her holo glowing in her hands like she was annotating my sins for later. “Okay,” I said, dragging out the word, leaning against the armrest of my throne. “Llama, some pancake told me we’ve got moles or whatever? Do I need to be afraid?”

  That finally cracked his statue routine. He stiffened, jaw tightening, and his eyes darted to me with that calculating look he got whenever strategy and guilt collided.

  “Yes,” he said, each word weighted like it hurt. “I was also warned. I… tried to misdirect, but I wasn’t thorough.” His teeth ground together, the sound almost audible over the chatter now spilling in from the doors. “There may be complications tomorrow.”

  The words clung to the air, sharp and unwelcome.

  Just then, the next trio arrived… Lisa, Katherine, and Scamantha, each radiating their own brand of chaos. Lisa practically skipped, fiery cosplay robes swishing as she waved cheerfully to half the room. Katherine sauntered in like she owned the place, her heels on stone echoing with deliberate rhythm.

  Scamantha… well, she looked like she was here to sell everyone overpriced relics, as usual.

  And trailing in right behind them: Yuki, Lunaris, stiff-backed but determined in her chair; and Ian, ever the quiet shadow at her flank.

  Then came Lucas, jolly as always, Pearl at his side looking far too composed for this circus. “Oh, the brass is here!” Lucas crowed, his grin splitting wide.

  I leveled a glare at him, and he froze mid-step, grin faltering. “They fear me,” I said flatly. It wasn’t a threat, just a statement.

  Lucas knew it too. His smile twitched, and without a word he ducked behind Llama’s chair, sliding into a seat as if the shadows might make him invisible.

  Pearl followed at her own pace, shaking her head like she was already disappointed in him.

  One by one, the noise dulled as more people filtered in, finding seats, their voices folding into the background hum. “So…” I said, leaning forward slightly, eyes landing back on the strategist. “Llama?”

  He met my stare, expression taut but controlled. Then he rose, stepped out and without hesitation climbed the dais to stand beside me.

  He didn’t face me. He faced them.

  “Thanks for coming,” he began. “Today I’ll assign you tasks.” His gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on familiar faces—Lisa’s grin, Yuki stopped reading… probably lore, Lucas pretending he wasn’t sweating already. “It was… last minute. Because I didn’t want the enemy countering our plans. I don’t want to alarm you,” he said, “but the Seneschal brought to my attention that our plan may be compromised.”

  His eyes flicked briefly to Lola, and I caught the faint downturn of his mouth; a flicker of pain, frustration, maybe even guilt. “We don’t have time to adjust, or to change our plans,” he pressed on, “and we don’t know the extent of enemy infiltration into our ranks.”

  A few players shifted in their seats, and my grip on the throne’s arm tightened until the embroidery of my dress hissed under my palm.

  NightSwallow was the first to move. She rose smoothly, her silhouette hidden in her dark dress, bowing her head toward Llama. “I can keep tabs on anyone near my post,” she said. “Portside barracks. I’ll shadow movements, and notify if—”

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Llama’s hand stopped her. “We need to reshuffle.” His tone was apologetic, but immovable, the kind of iron you didn’t argue with. “I’m sorry. But it is necessary.”

  NightSwallow’s expression didn’t flicker. She gave only a shallow shrug and lowered herself back into her chair, legs folding neatly beneath the shadows of her dress.

  But then Lucy shot up, all fire and brashness, her fake pirate hat flopping dangerously as she stabbed a finger toward Pearl. “I need to be with her,” she declared, her voice pitched to carry, no hesitation in it. “She’s my eyes. Together we… exploit.”

  Pearl, sitting calmly beside Lucas, turned her head slowly toward Lucy, but didn’t argue. Her fingers rested lightly on the table, tapping once, twice, in acknowledgment.

  Llama regarded Lucy for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he inclined his head once. “Noted. Any other interruptions?” he asked, with the faintest hint that his patience was paper-thin. “No one else? Good. So now we can assign roles again, to throw our enemies off.”

  He gave Lola the smallest nod, and she straightened. With a quick flick of her holo, the projector hummed to life.

  The map that appeared was… well. Let’s just say it wasn’t winning any awards. A rough, hand-drawn sketch of Altandai sprawled across the display, though one corner was stained by a coffee stain. We all knew who was the heavy coffee drinker around here.

  I blinked at Lola, and she smiled before she turned her stare to the projection.

  Llama’s eyes narrowed into a glare sharp enough to peel paint. Lola actually—actually—blushed, ducking her head as if the stain might vanish if she hid behind her holo hard enough.

  He cleared his throat. “So. As you can see, we have seven major objectives.” His hand hovered over the stained map as if he didn’t want to touch it. “And about seventeen commanders we can trust. Us.”

  That last word plopped, his gaze sweeping across the room like a teacher daring someone to admit they hadn’t done the homework. “Seventeen is not enough,” he continued, his tone flattening. “As I noted in the command—”

  “Let’s invite Pancake!” I blurted. The words tumbled out before my brain could veto them, my hand shooting up like I’d just discovered the cure to war itself.

  Every head snapped toward me. Even the guards by the door twitched. A beat of silence stretched wide. I jabbed a finger toward Lola before anyone could start questioning my sanity. “Lola, invite him here!”

  The room was filled with confusion. People exchanged baffled glances, lips parting, brows furrowing, a few even mouthing, pancake? like it was a codeword they’d missed in the last patch notes.

  Yuki, bless her cute heart, nodded furiously, eyes gleaming. “I like pancakes!” she declared with the enthusiasm of a kid picking their favorite ice cream flavor.

  It didn’t take long before Mister Pancake arrived, in full baker-monk glory. He moved with that awkward combination of humility and yeast-powered pride only a man named after breakfast could pull off. Or was it Poundcake?

  Nah.

  “Hey, Mister Pancake!” I called, waving like I was greeting an old drinking buddy instead of a literal bread saint. “Do you want to be commander?!”

  “Uh—” he blinked, halfway through a bow, clearly not expecting his first words in the room to decide the fate of a battalion.

  “Too bad, already are.” I cut him off with a flick of my hand, like I was swatting a fly. “Sit now!”

  And the miracle? He actually sat. Maybe it was the throne under my butt, maybe it was my overwhelming aura of chaotic authority, maybe he just didn’t want to argue with a queen who weaponized socks… left ones… either way, something was working, and I wasn’t about to poke holes in it.

  “Llama, continue,” I ordered with mock gravitas.

  “I…” Llama hesitated, eyes flicking to the newcomer as if expecting Mister Pancake to suddenly sprout fangs. “Can we trust new people?”

  “No,” I said bluntly, shaking my head. “But this is as good a time as any for try-outs. Now, tell me who’s going to have a party with me in the Triangle.”

  He leaned closer to the projection of the crude map, hand with the pointer hovering as if it was about to stab someone. “That’s supposed to represent the Binding Stone—the largest conflict,” he said, and I caught the faintest twitch in his eyebrow.

  My chaos was throwing him off his tactical groove.

  “Yeah, I need someone…” My eyes scanned the room. Lucy had her hand raised like an overeager schoolkid, but I ignored her with the grace of a teacher who’s already tired of questions before first bell. “Katherine and the sock division for sure. There will be a lot of death.”

  Katherine’s lips curled into a grin that matched mine: hers with feral delight, mine with gallows humor. Then, as if grinning had been too much effort, she leaned sideways against Dmitry, shut her eyes, and started dozing again.

  Some juggernauts power nap; mine could collapse into REM cycles mid-war council.

  “Queen,” Llama said at last, bowing slightly. His tone was respectful, but the pause carried the weight of someone steeling themselves before pointing out the obvious to their slightly unhinged superior.

  “Yes,” I said, waving for him to spit it out. “You may assign the roles. This one was actually the only one we can’t change.”

  “Oh.” His ears perked, surprise flickering across his usually deadpan expression. “That is true.” He looked almost impressed, which made me sit a little taller. Apparently my occasional wisdom was rarer than a legendary drop. “In that case, I shall be joining you. But the other two major points are Portside Barracks and South Barracks. We need—”

  “Wait!” I cut in again, raising my hand like a kid calling dibs on candy.

  Llama’s jaw tightened, though his smile didn’t break. He took a steadying breath, the way pancake monks do before punching bricks… breads?, and lowered his quill with saintlike patience. If patience could murder, though, I’d already be dead.

  “There is also the Wealth Liberation Squad,” I declared proudly.

  “That is not as important as—”

  “Very important,” I said over him, because apparently my hobby was testing his blood pressure. “Without liberating the current Grandmasters, except Shad’s, of their money, there’s no point liberating the city. It’s all run from their coffers anyway.”

  “Very well,” he said at last, with the long-suffering tone of a man who’s accepted that arguing with me was like shouting at a hurricane. “Original team remains the same—Scamantha, Lunaris, and Ian. But we add Yuki to cart duty, so Ian isn’t alone with the random players.”

  “Hey, I can do it!” Ian stood so fast his chair scraped against the floor. He grabbed Lunaris’ hand like he was swearing a knightly oath instead of signing up for glorified bank rob… transport. “Nothing will happen to the gold!”

  “They may target you,” Llama replied calmly, “but they will not expect exceptional help from Yuki. She is… somewhat new to our command structure.”

  Yuki raised her hand with a spark of eagerness, like she’d been waiting for this exact spotlight. The gesture of not speaking actually cracked Llama’s composure; his lips curved into the faintest smile, genuine for once.

  “Yes, Yuki?”

  “Am I a commander?” she asked hopefully.

  “Not yet,” he said, voice kind but firm. “But prove yourself in this battle… and you can be.”

  He turned to me. “Then, we need to decide. Do we send more troops to Portside, or more to the South? Both hold equal strategic importance, but securing Portside gives us a stronger staging ground from our ships. Reinforcements can be send quickly, and players logging in mid-battle will have easy way joining the fight. If we focus on the South, we may block their reinforcements and cut off their supply lines before they regroup.”

  “I have to decide?” I asked, half-hoping he’d laugh and say, just kidding, I already decided anyway.

  But no. Llama just nodded solemnly. “The one we focus on, we’ll send more people.”

  Great. Leadership moment. My favorite.

  I stared at the map, weighing the pros and cons like I was picking between two equally terrible bar cocktails. Portside meant better mobility and easier support from our fleet. South meant potentially crippling the grandmaster logistics. Both were vital. But… if reinforcements kept spawning on Portside and we lost it, we’d be trapped.

  I exhaled slowly. “Portside.”

  Llama studied me for a moment, then dipped his head. “I suggest Lisa’s guild, Fty, and the Lucy-Pearl team to secure it. For the southern barracks, I would trust Luminaria’s guild. As her support, NightSwallow and Dmitry.”

  The room rumbled with low nods and muttered agreements.

  “What about me?” Lucas piped up suddenly.

  Llama blinked, scratching the side of his head like he’d forgotten Lucas even existed. “You wanted to be on Pearl’s team, no?”

  Lucas nodded eagerly. “I’m a mage.”

  Llama stared at him blankly. “…I know.” Then, with deadpan finality: “Secure Portside, as we stated. Important.”

  Lucas shrank a little but gave a firm nod anyway.

  “Good. Then that leaves us with the smaller barracks.” His laser pointer skated over the map. “Southeast barracks…” He lifted his gaze toward me, then to the side. “The newcomer. With… Lola.”

  “Me?” Lola’s voice cracked in surprise. “But my class—”

  “Seneschal,” Llama said, cutting through her doubt. “You showed us the power of your class on the ship. More than enough. And you won’t be there alone.”

  “You mean keeping me in check,” the baker monk said dryly, folding his hands like this was all part of some sacred bread ritual. “I don’t mind. But we all deserve a good cake after the battle.”

  “Oooh!” I grinned, shifting on my throne like he’d just promised free loot. “Which one?” Yuki nodded seriously along, as if cake allocation was now a tactical priority.

  Llama’s patience snapped. His voice turned louder. “NORTHeast barracks!” He swung his gaze to Tramar. “I’m reluctant to send you alone, but…”

  Tramar smirked faintly, shrugging one shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m eyeing other types of magic. Diversification, you know.”

  Llama didn’t even dignify that with a reply. His eyes slid toward Frozna, who was still scrolling on her holophone like the war briefing was background noise.

  “Frozna,” he said pointedly.

  She blinked, then looked up. “That’s me.”

  “You’ll secure North Barracks. It’s the smallest, so expect less resistance. Once you’ve finished, your beasts can reinforce Portside if needed. That’s all… for the commanders. We still need to inform other random players.”

  I rose then, lifting both hands high to capture their attention like a discount motivational speaker. “Guys, this is important, okay? Our future is bright, so fight well!”

  “Inspiring speech,” Scamantha deadpanned without looking up from her holo. “I’m fired up already.”

  “Can I go with Lola? She’s sexy,” someone shouted from the back, casual as ordering a drink.

  Every head whipped in that direction. Lola flushed bright red, eyes wide as she shouted, “How did you even get in here, Fuzuki?!”

  “Oh, I invited Fuzuki,” I admitted, grinning. “What could go wrong?”