🎀 Wisteria 🎀

March twenty-fourth. For Waldemar Carafa, this day had gone wrong from the very morning.
The first trouble — he hadn't slept enough. He had returned from "Sukeba" at midnight, was forced to get up terribly early, and spent the entire morning idling around the city, but the walk helped neither to overcome his drowsiness nor to clear a mind burdened by the tedious anticipation of the results of today's audience with the Empress. Waldemar stopped by "Snow White," noting with boredom that both the staff and the menu changed here with strange frequency, as if the place lacked other eccentricities, but overall he didn't care. After hastily chewing through "September's Bounty," he left the establishment and headed to headquarters.
The second trouble, as it turned out, had happened yesterday, while he was enjoying Mirai delicacies and female company at "Sukeba." It was for the best that he hadn't encountered that pack of drunken peasants — a broken hand would have been the least of the consequences. Waldemar had gripped his saber for far smaller reasons... And now, being here was unpleasant; though they had cleaned up splendidly, some smells never air out. Especially those that aren't smelled with the nose.
The third trouble was brought by Raphael, who appeared heavy and gloomy, like a thundercloud. Thus, divide and conquer. The front line is not frightening — what hadn't he seen there? But how repulsive! Waldemar had once sworn an oath to Sharan Aganzo. Sworn to a god, no less, and now a couple of quarrelsome girls with inferiority complexes would be giving him orders.
— I swear by the gods, if I survive this shit, I'll kill her, — he uttered quietly and gloomily, and was surprised himself by how hollow and weak his voice sounded.
The rest of the day passed in general turmoil. Everyone prepares as best they can, and in the end, not a single one will be ready — a well-known fact — but this frantic bustle is unavoidable. Nothing weakens or destroys quite like the anticipation of misfortune, and this anticipation is worse than reality itself, whatever that may be. Fortunately, Waldemar was not prone to soul-searching and easily immersed himself in activity. With Raphael's help, he acquired that very long-coveted "Dragon's Fang" saber, and even a "Druid's Heart" cloak. Why? Because serious warriors always wear cloaks; only the rank-and-file rabble go uncovered — at least, that's what he had always thought. Waldemar, of course, would have preferred a purple one, but this was not bad either. He drank a potion of concentration. Now, the final and main stage. First to "Sukeba" — to eat tempura for dinner. Then to the bar...
— Vodka!
Waldemar had never drunk vodka, and after the first sip, he thought it would be better if it stayed that way in the future. He thought so, but immediately poured himself another... And another... And once more — and it seemed he was beginning to understand.
Waldemar returned "home" drunk, cheerful, and ready for anything. If permitted, he even had a full flask of vodka with him.
— Well... *hic*... fighters! Ready to die for nothing? No? But you must. What is our mooo-tto? Live with danger, die with glory. In short! — Waldemar slashed the air with his palm. — We are up to our necks in shit. That is why we must not... *hic*... lower our heads. Otherwise, we'll drown. Do what must be done, and try not to die. I shall miss your faces...
As for me, if I perish in the war — don't pray for me! Well, ha, enough speeches, I'm already wasted... Oh, Luizka! Wwwell!.. Perhaps your dream will finally come true. Until then — not a step out of headquarters. Obey Raphael without question! Until I return — he is your master... Well, that's all! Garmid, where is my yushman?..

— Comrade man! Still, your position is tempting!
Always on the march... And only one thing tears me from sleep:
Where are we heading?.. While spring rages over the land...
Waldemar steps easily through the mud, humming songs he remembers from his soldiering youth. It is stifling, stifling in the city; let the palaces glitter there, though they eclipse the brightness of the sun. He thinks of nothing bad; he walks ahead of his escort like a commander, his polished yushman shines gold under the rays of the heavenly orb, his cloak fluttering in the wind. His hand rests on the ornate hilt; the new saber is fine, he can't wait to put it to use! Only one bad thing — they didn't give him a horse, he has to wear out his soles... In short, Waldemar arrived in a very good mood. Of course, he was no less angry with Astrea and Lucretia, angry to the grinding of his teeth, but he feared neither the future nor complained about the present. We shall see. As for the others, and what is happening in the world — there's no point in guessing, and he doesn't care. Death will always be. Now more deaths are occurring, or otherwise they occur, but as for him — his life continues for now, and that is where he should focus his thoughts. Others think so much about everything that they don't have time to live themselves, but Waldemar Carafa is not one of those fools. He lives for himself, and lives in the present. Let the world go mad.

Upon reaching their destination, Waldemar and Alm appeared before Antanea el Brachium, general of the forces of Airisufir. People who lived in the empire or were interested in its internal affairs knew that Antanea was known as the right hand of the previous emperor in military matters, to whom she was a biological sister. What the Countess of Greenwoods could be doing in this wasteland remained a mystery.
Having received the orders from the soldier accompanying the griffin pair, the general threw the letter into the campfire that same hour, without even opening it.
— General! Ma'am! Are you sure that...
— That I didn't read it... — The woman brushed the soldier aside and sent him away, shifting her attention to the newcomers. — Well, tell me, how did you offend Her Highness Lucretia?

"Exactly, that's how you deal with all those papers! I'll get along with her, for sure."
— Well, our squad accidentally got slightly entangled in the dirty dealings of high society... And personally, I had the misfortune of expressing myself somewhat strongly toward Her Highness Brahea Air el Sufir, although we communicated quite amicably after the incident was resolved. However, this was brought up again when I was assigned specifically under your command.