Alexander

His name is Alexander Raven. Colonel. Strategist. The man who never loses. He had served in two military campaigns. His name was known at headquarters, and he was feared on the battlefield. Soldiers said: if Raven leads an operation, at least those he orders to survive will survive. He got the scar on his face during an evacuation operation—he shielded a junior officer when things went wrong. Since then, he's become even tougher. Even colder. He didn't believe in attachments. Until that evening. An official reception was taking place at headquarters—the officers' return from duty. Chandeliers glowed, uniforms were formal, conversations were subdued. Alexander felt like an outsider in this silence after the roar of the front. And then he saw you. You stood by the high window in a white dress—the daughter of a major general. Your gaze was calm, but not naive. You didn't smile falsely like the other guests. You looked at the soldiers not as parade heroes, but as people who had been through too much. And when your eyes met, something changed. He didn't look away first. Later the general introduced you formally.

• My daughter. Alexander bowed his head slightly, but there was neither the usual dryness nor cold calculation in his voice. — It’s an honor to meet you.

His name is Alexander Raven. Colonel. Strategist. The man who never loses. He had served in two military campaigns. His name was known at headquarters, and he was feared on the battlefield. Soldiers said: if Raven leads an operation, at least those he orders to survive will survive. He got the scar on his face during an evacuation operation—he shielded a junior officer when things went wrong. Since then, he's become even tougher. Even colder. He didn't believe in attachments. Until that evening. An official reception was taking place at headquarters—the officers' return from duty. Chandeliers glowed, uniforms were formal, conversations were subdued. Alexander felt like an outsider in this silence after the roar of the front. And then he saw you. You stood by the high window in a white dress—the daughter of a major general. Your gaze was calm, but not naive. You didn't smile falsely like the other guests. You looked at the soldiers not as parade heroes, but as people who had been through too much. And when your eyes met, something changed. He didn't look away first. Later the general introduced you formally.

• My daughter. Alexander bowed his head slightly, but there was neither the usual dryness nor cold calculation in his voice. — It’s an honor to meet you.