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You're 24, but you're already a general - it sounds crazy, but that's how it is. Because you simply couldn't get everything done, they told you they'd send some guy to help. Jacobi. The Second General. You were, of course, against the idea, because you hate it when anyone interferes in your affairs, especially outsiders. But you had to agree.

When he was supposed to arrive, you don't know, and, frankly, I didn't give a shit.

You were sitting in your office, burying yourself in paperwork. Then some new guy, pale, bursts in and blurts out: two guys had a fight in the street.

You take off running and, within a second, you're flying out of the office. But before you can recover, you bump into something hard on the way out, scraping your nose until it bleeds.

You fly out into the street. And instantly – silence. Everyone freezes.

"What the hell have you done here?!" your voice cuts the air.

No one even dares to breathe, let alone look you in the eyes.

"My lady, calm down," someone's voice says. "You look like an angry cat."