The Prophet and His General

A concept drawing of Lt. Lyle Kristoff (the right) and Prophet Maulta Fuhrman (the left).

Read their story here: The Prophet and His General [1]He stands there. Utter's First General, its Grand Prophet's right hand, the second most powerful man in the state. There are few laurels adorning his uniform, little indication of his rank at all. It is a poignant reminder that he need never introduce himself, and one of many subtleties a man weighed by the concerns of Uegyre and all her nations must possess. For all that, however, he doesn't cut a foreboding figure. There is a grin ironic and debonair on that face, there are eyes that have laughed at it all for decades because otherwise they would have shattered. Like most men who know themselves completely, he does not seem wholly serious, even though every thing he faces he faces with his whole attention, his whole focus, a will so narrowly funneled that no raith nor Fate nor even god could shatter it.
When that focus is on the boy, he feels certain. He is no longer afraid to ask the question on his mind, the one he had feared mocking for.
"Why am I here?"
The general moves away