Planting the orbs

"What?" Valerie voiced, her elegant silhouette sat like a statue amidst the room's atmosphere, her voice slicing through the silence like a dagger. 

Her eyes, once warm pools of hazel, now gleamed with an icy fury that sent shivers through the room. She frowned, her brows knitting together in a tapestry of anger and confusion.

Ethan faced her with an air of urgency. The room they stood in, bathed in the soft glow of flickering candles.

"There's a final war about to happen between Nelvora and Ragnar… I need your orbs, one big enough to transport about 700 soldiers," Ethan's voice quivered with a mix of desperation and determination.

Valerie's eyes narrowed, her hand unconsciously clenching the fabric of her gown. 

"Ethan?... A war between two kingdoms has nothing to do with you… I thought your whole focus was winning the Amber dance," she spoke, her worry transforming into nagging, her voice like a distant echo in the chamber's hallowed silence.