Brian was taken aback by her audacious comment, barely avoiding choking on his water. "Cough, cough!"

Emilia's amusement was evident, surprised at how the normally composed governor could be so flustered by a little teasing. It was oddly endearing.

Quickly regaining his composure, Brian acknowledged with a wry smile, "Miss, you certainly have a sense of humor." He couldn't deny his appreciation for beauty, but he understood that securing capable allies was more valuable. Winning this election was his main focus; admirers would come naturally afterward. However, if she genuinely believed in his leadership and chose to say—yet before he could fully explore that thought, Emilia spoke seriously.

"I'm just joking. I'm a free spirit, after all, not one to settle down easily."

Brian was momentarily speechless, grateful for not voicing his previous musings aloud. He quietly pushed aside any budding feelings, pretending as if nothing had occurred.

Noticing his embarrassment, Emilia was oddly more inclined to tease him, "But if you were genuinely proposing, I might just consider it."

Brian had caught on and shook his head, resigned, "Let's not jest on my account, Miss." He saw her as someone unconventional, possibly unaware of societal norms. Adopting a serious expression, he continued, "Marriage is a lifelong commitment, not a matter for jest. Don't make light of yourself, lest people misunderstand."

Emilia, seeing his sincerity, decided to pivot. "Shall we discuss something more serious?"

"Please do, Miss," he invited.

"Are you any good at climbing trees?"

Brian was bewildered but intrigued. "I could give it a go."

"We might need to climb a tree later," she noted. "Wolves could appear tonight."

Brian glanced around, the firelight illuminating only a small space. Beyond that, rustling leaves and looming branches blended into shadowy figures, sending shivers down his spine. He pulled his coat tighter.

Emilia added some branches to the fire, stoking it higher. "No need to worry too much, just a precaution." Her abilities weren't fully reliable yet, and she feared not being able to protect him if needed.

Although her words were meant to be reassuring, Brian suspected he wouldn’t sleep a wink all night.

"Alright, up we go," Emilia said, choosing a sturdy tree nearby. With practiced grace, she leaped up, landing easily on a branch as if weightless.

She repeated the move without effort and, with a mischievous grin, took Brian's hand, leading him up the tree.

The winter-felled branches offered little foliage, and the wind felt like ice cutting through his veins. Brian shivered, embarrassed by his discomfort—while Emilia wore only a thin layer of clothing.

Noticing his unease, Emilia feigned concern. "It's a bit high. I'm afraid of falling. Shall we move down a bit?"

Brian paused, realizing her intention, and was genuinely touched. This wasn't pandering; it was thoughtful and considerate.

With a gentle nod, he agreed. "Yes."

She guided them down lower, where the fire's warmth was more palpable. Though initially alert, the steady quiet lulled Brian to sleep despite his intentions.

Time slipped unnoticed until a sudden chill woke him, intensifying with each attempt to rouse himself. His body felt sluggish, his voice nonexistent.

Emilia, unaware of his predicament, sat focused nearby.

She was practicing, connecting with her surroundings not through sight but awareness. As she meditated, a curious sensation triggered with each breath—her heart felt a warming sensation, a heat that circulated before settling in her core.

This discovery was fascinating, encouraging continued exploration.

As minutes passed, her awareness expanded. She sensed the trees, now bare, the rigid snakes nestled between branches, and the distant whites of a pack of wolves prowling in the night.

The threat was undeniable. Hungry wolves were formidable foes, their yellow eyes watchful beyond the firelight’s reach.

She tracked the pack silently, preparing for possible aggression.

Eventually, one wolf broke the stillness, lunging forward with glowing eyes.

Instinctively, Emilia willed them away—"Get back!"

There was no shout, just an intense concentration. A latent power surged within her, though painful.

Just as panic struck, the wolves faltered mid-attack, startled into retreating wildly, their disappearance swift and final.

Relief washed over her as she realized the effect resembled a mental force, with aftereffects yet highly effective.

A fortunate turn indeed.

Allowing herself a moment to collect her thoughts, she resumed meditation until dawn's light signaled the day.

Only then did she notice Brian’s state, his forehead burning to the touch.

Regret set in quickly. Brian was strong, accustomed to ease and comfort, now vulnerable in the cold with burdens on his mind. Of course, exposure would take its toll.

No use lamenting now. She helped him to his feet, his weight leaning heavily on her.

His voice faint, but present, "Miss…"

"Shh, it's alright. I'm taking you to a doctor," her voice a gentle promise.

He offered a weak murmur of acknowledgment before slipping back into a fitful rest.

Emilia settled him into the vehicle, securing their gear, and with the sun as her guide, set off toward their intended outpost.

---

Brian awoke from restless dreams, coated in perspiration, reminiscent of a life-or-death escape.

The rustic room he found himself in was unfamiliar, the fall of the blanket revealing he wore nothing beneath.

A soft creak heralded the door opening, as Emilia entered carrying a bowl, relief clear as day upon seeing his state.

"You're awake," she noted.

"What happened to me?" He spoke, voice raspy.

Passing him the bowl, she provided clarity with brief words. "You've caught the chill. This is a waystation. I fetched a doctor. Drink this, there's much to discuss."

Brian obediently consumed the bitter brew in one go. "What's on your mind?"

"I inquired about the capital's news," Emilia shared contemplatively. "Your attack is known. The official claim is a plot by the former vice president, dealt with lethally."

Such assertions were anticipated by Brian, his tone sardonic. "Am I presumed dead or alive? Is the succession finalized?"

Emilia chuckled, "There's debate over leadership choice."

A scowl marred Brian’s features, the political maneuvering clear. "They’re attempting to consolidate power. Uncovering allies under this guise provides clarity, identifying potential supporters or dissenters."

Emilia kept him informed, "The advisor holds more intrigue than the successor."

"Advisor?" Brian was intrigued.

"An enigmatic figure saved your supposed last breath, acclaimed for miraculous revival, now state advisor. A 'Mason'—do you know the name?"

Brian's frown deepened. "Unfamiliar. The administration favored empirical evidence, rarely employing mystics."

Their commitment to scientific reliability made such superstitions noteworthy.

"Any background on this Mason?"

Emilia shook her head. "Just overheard conversations, specifics elusive."

Brian pondered this revelation.

"Recently, an official arrived due to travel difficulties, likely waiting out the weather," Emilia further reported.

A displaced official moving mid-winter suggested insignificance, yet even then, any recognition boded ill.

Avoidance conflicted with urgency—"I have a thought," Emilia interrupted, "mind hearing it?"

"Speak, Miss," Brian encouraged.

"Could Jake, your confidant, respond quickly upon hearing of your plight?"

"He bears responsibilities, unlikely…" Brian trailed off.

Jake was the younger son of a once-influential family, his upbringing indulgent, fearless. Despite toning down after his brother's death, he remained unpredictably spirited. Such a reckless journey wasn't unthinkable.

Was it likely they might intersect?

"Waiting a couple of days might prevent a miss," Emilia reasoned. "You recover, and perhaps your friend arrives."

Brian weighed the suggestion, nodding eventually. "As you suggest."

News in the capital implied a narrative preservation for the advisor's credibility, delaying any premature declarations of his demise.

Delaying briefly seemed judicious.

---

Washington, in the Oval Office.

The First Lady remained composed, addressing Mason directly, "Sir, we've lost track of Brian. Your assistance would be invaluable."

Her brother David had visited discreetly, revealing Brian’s survival and aid by an unknown woman. Their absence was unsettling, breeding unease.

With time came uncertainty; Brian’s existence jeopardized her security amid political machinations.

Yet Mason replied, "Madam, national destiny prohibits direct intervention on my part—conflict of interest."

Such a statement might have raised skepticism elsewhere, yet Mason's capabilities warranted only earnest supplication.

"As you wish, assist in locating him," she implored.

Mason contemplated silently. His demeanor aligned more with a scholar than mystic, despite his unusual aura.

After deliberating, he agreed. "I will attempt it."

Producing a delicate box upon request for a personal artifact, a vibrant blue butterfly emerged.

"Meet the Pursuer," Mason explained, placing it upon Brian’s belonging. It fluttered once before taking flight eastward. "Assign followers accordingly."

A faint smile graced the First Lady's lips. "Our gratitude, Sir."

Mason refrained from further comment. Mortal power struggles held little appeal; rather, stability enabled broader endeavors with governmental support.

Thus, opportunities expanded toward far-reaching aspirations.