Nolan Pierce stopped in the doorway of Marcus Voss’s office, holding a folded report in one hand and wearing the expression of a man who had answered the same question too many times.“If you ask me about that convoy again, Commander, I might start believing you suspect me of something,” Nolan said.Marcus looked up from the papers spread across his desk. “If I suspected you, Nolan, you would already know.”“That is comforting.”“Sit down. I need you to remember something about the final orders before the eastern convoy departed.”Nolan pulled out a chair but remained standing beside it. “We received the original route, then a correction shortly before departure. The adjustment came through the command office, so we followed it.”“Who signed it?”“That is the strange part. I remember the name, but I had never dealt with the officer before.”Marcus pushed a blank sheet across the desk. “Write it down.”Nolan took the pen and wrote the name carefully before returning the paper. Marcus r

The complaint landed on Marcus Voss’s desk just as a runner knocked over a tray of breakfast cups outside his office, sending porcelain across the corridor while two soldiers argued over whose fault it was and a third hurried away before anyone could ask him to help. Marcus unfolded the document, skimmed the opening paragraph, and stopped at the signature beneath the accusation. Commander Edric Shaw had accused him of disrupting an approved eastern movement by changing its schedule without sufficient justification, exposing the unit to unnecessary danger and undermining the authority of the command structure. The final paragraph recommended a formal disciplinary review.Marcus rang the desk bell, and his adjutant entered before the second ring had faded. “Who delivered this?” Marcus asked, holding up the complaint. “A dispatch runner from the administration office, sir. He said it required your attention before noon.” Marcus placed the document on his desk and instructed him to obtain