General Zerash of the Elowen Army wears command like a tailored coat, fitted more for display than endurance. His voice carries easily in council chambers, confident and untroubled by detail. He speaks in broad strokes and decisive phrases, rarely lingering long enough on specifics to be challenged.
His reputation gleams. Campaign reports list decisive victories and orderly withdrawals, each neatly attributed to his leadership. The record shows no failures. When operations falter, the fault lies elsewhere. A colonel misread terrain; a captain hesitated; a supply officer miscalculated stores. Zerash has mastered the art of remaining untouched.
His true talent lies in selection. He surrounds himself with capable officers, men who understand the ground, the weather, the temper of troops. Their successes flow upward. Their mistakes stop at their own rank. Zerash accepts praise with modest inclination of the head, as though success were simply the natural outcome of his presence.
His polished record, unmarred by public defeat, earns him leadership of the defense expedition to the Elowen–Eslading border near the Kosak Falls. The assignment carries weight: volatile terrain, strained loyalties, and a restless frontier. Zerash views it as confirmation of what he has always believed. He was meant for greater command.
Others, watching his departure see it more like the river churning below the falls. They wonder what will happen when performance can no longer be delegated and consequence cannot be redirected.