One of the Reds stomped hard on the ground.
"We Paladins are backing Commander Nasir politically."
One of the Blues did the same.
"We Zealots are backing Commander Nasir with gold."
One of the Yellows raised his right hand, silently thanking his fellow guards.
"Our friends provide the people with hope, conviction, and belief. Without them, our cause would've already been lost. So, in your dealings with Commander Nasir, do not forget that."
Malik nodded at him.
"I won't."
The man's words were completely right.
Hope. Conviction. Belief.
Those weren't just ideals.
They were fuel. They were fire. And right now, they were spreading fast.
At first, they were likely quiet. Soft murmurs in dark corners, whispered prayers in sleepless nights. But whispers never stayed whispers for long.
With time, those murmurs swelled, picked up weight, and turned into chants.
Chants? They had a way of turning into battle cries.
So, this wasn't just a war anymore.
