The generals had a plan. They would stage an attack, poison someone within the Light’s walls, make it seem like it was supposed to be for the brat. For this plan to work, they would have to sacrifice one of their own. So, in front of the High Generals stood eight people, all different in some way. Whether it be height, skin, eye or hair colour, accent, none of these people were like any of the others.

“So, who will it be?” General Shingolth asked the row of men and women.

“Perhaps miss tall and dark?” Machbok spoke.

“No, her face isn’t friendly enough, we need someone the boy will trust. An unfriendly face will not achieve that.” A different general, Genevieve, originally from Bishnaal, spoke now. “Perhaps miss blond, brown eyes?”

“Or mister short brunette.” Shingolth spoke again.

“Well, mister mid-height, brown eyed, white brunette, looks like the brat. People tend to befriend people who look like themselves.” Machbok again.

“But this is the brat we’re talking about, he doesn’t make friends. No one can call themselves his friend apart from the other boy.” Shingolth reminded the group.

Upon his words, all generals turned to one boy in particular. Tall, muscular, yet not too muscular, golden brown eyes, dark, short hair, though long enough for one to run their hands through.

“Time to make you smell nice, mister. Guards, the others can return to their quarters now.”

At Genevieve’s words, the guards opened the doors, and the remaining seven people left.

They had found the perfect sacrifice.