Chapter 490: The Secret Thrill (1)
The first light of dawn seeped through the mist-shrouded forest, painting the Astellian camp in pale, silvery hues. Birds whispered timid notes in the branches above, and the cool morning breeze carried the earthy scent of damp leaves and dew-laden grass. Yet beneath the tranquil atmosphere, a different kind of tension rippled through the camp—one hidden beneath red cheeks, awkward laughter, and the unmistakable shuffle of unsteady steps.
Lyan adjusted his cloak, the silver clasp catching a faint glint of sunlight. His gaze swept the camp as he rolled his shoulders, feeling a lingering, pleasant ache in his muscles. His own stride remained steady, but he couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips as he noticed the others.
Wilhelmina, always so composed, stood at the main supply cart, her pink braid swaying gently with each step. But there was a slight wobble in her usually perfect posture, her grip on the quill wavering as she marked supply logs. One of her aides, a young scout with sharp eyes, approached cautiously. "Commander... are you feeling alright? You seem a bit... unsteady."
Wilhelmina’s cheeks flushed a faint rose, but her voice remained even. "Just... a slight cramp. Nothing to worry about. Ensure the archers have their fletchings checked."
Further down the camp, Xena stretched beside the horses, her green eyes narrowing with focus. But each time she tried to bend forward, a faint wince crossed her face, and her balance wavered. A stable hand tilted his head, curious. "Lady Xena? Did you... strain something?"
"Horses were restless last night," Xena lied smoothly, though the color in her cheeks betrayed her. "A bit of a struggle."
Ravia, sharpening her blade by the edge of the supply tent, seemed determined to hide her slight limp, but the slow, careful way she lowered herself onto a crate didn’t escape her squad’s notice.
"Lady Ravia, are you—"
"Fine," she snapped, perhaps a bit too quickly. Then, softer, she cleared her throat. "Just... overdid the sword practice."
Josephine lounged against a tree, her fiery red hair cascading down her shoulder. She tried to maintain her usual confident smirk, but even leaning there, a subtle tremor ran through her legs. One of her cavalry officers approached. "Ma’am, you seem... tired."
"I’m just... getting in the mood for the march," Josephine quipped, forcing a grin. But the warmth in her cheeks said otherwise.