Arthur hadn't seen much of Elliott lately. Not since Beatrice had started calling him "big brother" while also sharing his bed.
The Knight-Commander's jaw was clenched, his hand resting on his sword hilt with white knuckles.
"Before we finalize the assault plan," Arthur said, taking his place at the table's head, "I want your tactical assessment, Elliott. You taught me mountain warfare—what concerns do you see?"
Elliott's posture shifted slightly, the familiar role of strategic advisor overriding personal tension. His enhanced senses picked up everyone's emotional state—excitement from most, anxiety from Elliott, but also something else... professional focus.
"Orc honor codes, Your Majesty," Elliott replied, falling into his natural expertise. "They don't just respect strength—they require *mak'thor*. Personal combat superiority, not overwhelming force. If you want lasting conversion rather than temporary submission..."
