Purpose

7.

The night had settled over the camp like a heavy blanket. Between the tents, the light of the campfires flickered as soldiers spoke in hushed tones, prepared for the impending battle, or silently polished their weapons. Karim and Damian's camp was well-organized, with an air of silent tension and practiced discipline pervading the ranks. Everyone knew the enemy was approaching and that the forthcoming battle would not be easy.

Karim, having been through several battles, surveyed the camp with a practiced eye. He noticed the men's nervousness, especially Damian's, who, despite his royal lineage and reputation, proved to be an inexperienced warrior in such moments. Yet Damian was making an effort to hide his insecurity, which impressed Karim. He admired the strength and perseverance of the young prince, even though he sometimes doubted himself.

A scout hurried in, his clothes dusty from the long journey. His words were brief and to the point: "The enemies are approaching. They march slowly but steadily. If they continue at this pace, they will reach us by tomorrow evening." The news spread like wildfire through the camp. Soldiers began hastening their preparations, donning armor and sharpening swords.

Karim patted Damian on the shoulder to encourage him. "Don't worry, we're ready," he said with a slight smile. "You're doing well."

Damian looked up at him and nodded thoughtfully. "We should discuss the strategy once more. And besides... we could both use some rest," Karim said in a subdued voice.

Damian nodded, grateful for the invitation, and followed the man through the camp. They entered the tent, which was spartan but functional. A map of the coast was spread out on a wooden table, with notes and markers indicating troop positions. The two commanders sat on low stools and took a moment to absorb the silence before going over their plans again. They discussed the details for a while longer, but soon had covered everything important. The ensuing silence was neither uncomfortable nor forced—it was more like the calm before the storm, where everyone internally prepared.

Karim leaned back in his wooden chair and fixed his gaze on Damian. He admired the young prince, who displayed unwavering dignity despite his grief over the death of his brother. Damian was smart, brave, and possessed a certain elegance that set him apart. Karim pondered what he would do after the war. Perhaps he would finally return home to his family. It had been nearly ten years since he had last seen Leonel, his youngest brother. Back then, Leonel had been just a child in his eyes.

The memory of his little brother made Karim look up. "How is Leonel? He must be grown by now." Karim tried to make his voice sound indifferent, but a vague concern stirred within him. Leonel had always been the family's worry. Their parents, especially their father, had never thought much of him because he was not as strong and combative as Cedric or Karim.

Damian seemed surprised as the conversation took an unexpected turn and hesitated before replying. An unusual expression appeared in his eyes, something like warmth or perhaps admiration. "He is... different than expected. He's not as big and strong as you or Cedric. He has a delicate, almost fragile appearance. But he is intelligent, incredibly intelligent. He researches things that I barely understand. He wants to combine magic with technology."

Karim listened attentively. It did not surprise him that Leonel had delved into science and magic, but he noticed the way Damian spoke—with a strange fascination. Damian continued, "He is reserved, maybe shy. But he has something... something mysterious about him. It's hard to gauge him."

Karim saw the slight blush that spread across Damian's cheeks as he spoke further. "He... he looks very beautiful, in a way that's not often found." Damian fell silent as he realized what he had said, and his face turned even redder. Karim stared at him, confused and surprised. It was a reaction he hadn't expected from Damian. The young prince was usually cool, almost aloof. Yet, at the mention of Leonel, he seemed to break from his facade, as if the name alone elicited more emotion than he intended to show.