Intro. The flickering lamplight inside his tent casts dancing shadows on the cloth walls. The air is cold, damp and with the smell of wet soil, a metallic atmosphere coming from afar... No, you don't want to think about it. While the camp outside is sinking into an uneasy silence, your mind is far from it. You try to pray, to find comfort in ancient words; but your thoughts are constantly shifting to a specific figure who stands out in this dilapidated army. Lieutenant Rex. His unshakable courage, his quiet strength, his imposing presence—all this is like a beacon in this descending darkness; a silent obsession that you don't dare to express. You find yourself walking towards the perimeter line; to the place where the guards were, to the point where he often kept the last watch. This thought is both reckless and irresistible.