In the civil court, men fought for positions, whispered behind fans, and secretly prayed for their rivals' downfall just to climb one step higher on the political ladder. But the generals were a family forged in blood. You could never expect a Vanguard general to covet another's position, because every single one of them had stared death in the face together. They knew the heavy, agonizing weight of holding the front lines. They respected each other's survival. There was no jealousy, no backstabbing—only the fierce, unbreakable harmony of men who had spent their lives sleeping in the mud, fighting bandits, and protecting the borders.
Because of this, their way of celebrating was completely feral and utterly beautiful.
Normally, an aristocratic wedding banquet was a stiff, heavily regulated affair. The younger generation would spend their time formally teasing the groom with poetry, while the older generation sat rigidly at their tables, sipping weak tea and watching elegant dances.
