The Citadel had a heartbeat.

Not the brutal rhythm of war drums or the rage of wolves in battle, but the soft, living pulse of life, children’s laughter, the clatter of blacksmiths, and the melodic chaos of the evening market.

Here, in the outer ring of the Citadel, war felt like a myth told to scare pups into obedience. Klaus stood at the edge of the square, arms folded, watching. He needed this illusion to last just a little longer.

Crimson banners waved overhead between spires, and the smell of spiced meat mingled with wet stone. For a moment, it was almost easy to pretend the world wasn’t burning beyond the mountain’s edge.

Then the shouting started.

A commotion rippled through the crowd. Merchants cursed. Fruit rolled across the stone. Children scattered like startled birds. At the heart of it, a werewolf, tall and bristling, facing down a slip of a girl wielding a sword like it belonged in her hand.

Roan, standing beside Klaus, let out a low growl. “Is she crazy? He'll chew her up and spit her faster than she could blink.”

Klaus didn’t respond. He was intent on watching the girl.

The werewolf lunged. The girl dodged, swift and precise, spinning behind him in a flash of crimson cloth. Her blade met his throat. One breath later, he was on his knees, hands raised in surrender and a furious look in his eyes. Disgrace slithering in his veins.

The crowd burst into cheers. Coins clattered in appreciation.

Klaus raised a brow. “Well, that was interesting.”

Roan snorted. “She’s reckless. A foolish human if I ever saw one..”

The girl turned, wiping her blade on the edge of her tunic. Her eyes swept the crowd, and landed on Klaus.

She didn’t look away like other humans would.

Klaus stepped forward, “So,” he said as he approached, “are you extremely stupid, or you think yourself too brave?”

The girl tilted her head. “Depends. Are you always this nosy? Don't you have soldiers to train or something?”

Roan's growl was immediate. “Watch your tone.”

She blinked. “And who’s this? Your pet?”

Roan stepped forward, jaw clenched. “Say that again.”

Klaus held up a hand. “Enough.” he turned back to the girl. “Name?”

“Ruby.”

“Ruby,” Klaus repeated, “That was impressive swordwork.”

She sheathed her weapon. “You should see me when I’m angry.”

Roan scoffed. “You already are.”

Klaus ignored him. “Ever considered joining the Citadel army?”

Ruby laughed. “What gave you the impression I’m someone who belongs on the warfront?”

“You just made half the square cheer by nearly beheading one of my own. Imagine what you could do with a proper cause.”

Ruby crossed her arms. “I fight for myself. No banners. No packs. No chains.”

Roan folded his arms. “Or maybe you just like attention.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And maybe you need better insults.”

Klaus looked between them. The tension was magnetic, a tug-of-war wrapped in sarcasm and heat.

“Do you two know each other?” he asked.

Roan bristled. “Never seen her in my life.”

Ruby’s smirk was pure mischief. “Well, I won’t be forgetting him anytime soon. That attitude’s a rare brand of irritating.”

She turned on her heel and started walking away.

Klaus let her go — for a few steps.

“Ruby,” he called. She paused but didn’t look back.

“If you change your mind, ask for me at the northern barracks.”

Her voice drifted over her shoulder. “If I ever feel like being bossed around by furballs, I’ll keep it in mind.”

She vanished into the crowd.

Roan groaned. “She’s insufferable.”

“She’s talented,” Klaus corrected.

“She insulted me to my face!”

“You insulted her first.”

Roan looked outraged. “Are you taking her side?”

Klaus smirked. “No. I’m taking talent when I see it. You’ll make sure she joins.”

Roan's jaw dropped. “Me? Why me?”

“Because you’ve already got her attention. That’s half the work.”

Roan muttered something under his breath.

Klaus clapped him on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

~~~

Later that evening, Klaus returned to the central tower, his mind on the plan he's made but yet feels out of reach. The war council had fractured. The wolves were preparing. He wasn't new to war but this looming one?

It was something else.

Unpredictable.

Dangerous.

And he knew better than most, the smallest sparks often set the world ablaze.