Vador stood alone in his makeshift camp, a simple tent offering scant shelter against the biting cold. The flickering light of a lantern cast shadows on the tent's fabric, accentuating the oppressive atmosphere of the night. Seated on a rolled-up blanket, he replayed the events of the previous day, the meeting of the clan leaders that had sealed their fate for the coming days. Every detail, every word exchanged echoed in his mind as he sought to find his place in this vast war machine.
The clan leaders had made a deep impression on him. Each of them exuded a natural strength and authority. Dahlia, with her imposing halberd and piercing gaze, had immediately captured his attention. Her firm and assured voice had delivered directives with such clarity that no dissent was possible. Though she was only an officer, her presence was as commanding as that of the leaders themselves. Her aura of raw power was palpable, and Vador understood why she was both respected and feared by her peers.
