Chapter 314: Morning Had to Be Earned

Kael found Tovin awake again.

Not alert.

Not healthy.

But awake.

The treatment shed had grown quieter since sunset. Lanterns hung from hooks along the walls, their light softened by thin cloth so the room would not become unnecessarily bright. The smell of charcoal had been replaced by boiled linen, crushed herbs, sweat, and the faint metallic scent of blood. Derren slept near the opposite wall and proved, beyond all possible argument, that he snored. Lysa lay nearby beneath two blankets with one arm over her face. Kel had finally stopped insisting his ribs were fine and occupied a pallet near the door, though Kael suspected the only reason he remained there was because Rask had threatened to sit on him if he attempted to leave.

Tovin looked toward Kael when he entered.

"You came back."

Kael pulled a stool closer without sitting immediately. "I never left."

"You left the room."

"That usually counts as leaving."

Tovin seemed to consider the distinction, then decided he lacked the strength to debate it.

The gray-haired Blackwood healer was checking the bandages around Tovin’s ribs. He glanced at Kael but did not stop working.

"No questions."

Kael looked offended. "I didn’t say anything."

"You have a question face."

"I apparently have many faces people dislike."

"Useful trait in a prince."

Tovin’s mouth moved faintly.

A smile.

Kael sat.

The System opened before he could stop himself.

[Tovin Marr]

Condition: critical

Circulatory stability: improving

Foreign magical residue: moderate

Mana-channel instability: persistent

Physical stress response: reduced

Immediate deterioration detected: no

Kael let the panel fade.

The healer noticed anyway.

"You checked."

"Yes."

"How many since I told you not to?"

Kael did not answer.

Tovin whispered, "Five."

Kael looked at him.

"You were counting?"

Tovin closed his eyes.

"Nothing else to do."

The healer laughed quietly.

Kael leaned back.

"You’re both unpleasant."

Tovin opened one eye.

"Rellan was worse."

The room changed.

Not much.

Enough.

Kael looked toward him.

Tovin’s gaze drifted toward Lysa.

For several breaths, he said nothing.

Then, "She told them?"

"His family?"

Tovin nodded.

"Yes."

His throat moved.

"Good."

Kael waited.

Tovin’s face tightened as though the next question hurt before he asked it.

"Body?"

"Still marked."

"Not lost?"

"No."

That mattered more than Kael expected.

Tovin nodded once.

"Good."

The healer adjusted the blanket over him.

"You have used that word four times."

Tovin looked toward the ceiling.

"Easy word."

"Then use another."

"Pain."

The healer snorted.

"Still alive enough to be annoying."

Derren spoke from across the room without waking.

"Family trait."

Everyone looked toward him.

He kept snoring.

Kael stared.

The healer shook her head.

"He talks in his sleep."

"Is that normal?"

"For him? Probably."

Tovin smiled again.

Small.

Fragile.

Still real.

Kael settled deeper onto the stool.

He had come intending to check Tovin and leave.

Instead he stayed.

Outside, the camp quieted by degrees rather than all at once. Guards changed positions. Someone walked past carrying firewood. A horse stamped in the road. Farther away, one of the children protested being sent to bed while armed strangers were still in camp, as though danger became entertainment if bedtime was involved.

No second bell came from the west.

No roar either.

That should have been comforting.

It was not.

Kael looked toward the shed wall as if he could see through it.

Tovin noticed.

"That sound."

Kael returned his attention to him.

"You heard it?"

"Everyone heard it."

"What did it sound like to you?"

The healer pointed at Kael.

"No questions."

"This is not about captivity."

"No questions that make him think."

Tovin looked at her.

"That seems broad."

"You need rest."

"I’m bored."

"You can be bored alive."

Tovin considered.

"Fair."

Kael almost stood.

Then Tovin spoke.

"Not the same."

Kael stopped.

"What?"

"The bell."

His eyes stayed on the ceiling.

"Not the same as downstairs."

Kael sat again.

The healer stared at him.

He raised both hands.

"I did not ask."

She muttered something about princes.

Tovin continued slowly.

"Down below, metal sounds carried."

Kael remembered the lower works.

Pressure doors.

Pipes.

Old structures.

Tools.

"Different pitch?"

"Yes."

"Certain?"

The healer made a warning sound.

Tovin ignored her.

"This one was bigger."

"Bigger?"

"Deeper."

His brow tightened.

"Felt wrong."

That was not evidence.

But it was something.

Kael nodded.

"Then we record exactly that and nothing more."

Tovin looked at him.

"You always talk like that?"

"Lately."

"Sounds exhausting."

"It is."

Derren spoke in his sleep again.

"Left side."

Kael looked over.

Derren’s head shifted.

"Not that one."

The healer sighed.

"What is he dreaming about?"

Tovin closed his eyes.

"Probably arguing."

That seemed likely.

Kael stayed until Tovin drifted back to sleep.

When he finally stepped outside, the night air had cooled enough that the heat trapped under his damaged armor became unpleasant rather than oppressive. The western forest remained a black wall beyond the charcoal road. Clouds covered most of the stars, and no moonlight reached through the tree canopy.

Two Blackwood guards stood beside the bell tower.

Another pair watched the western approach.

Rolan had doubled the perimeter exactly as ordered.

Or exactly as he had ordered himself.

Kael had technically agreed.

That distinction probably mattered only to Kael.

He found Iris sitting on top of a low stack of cut timber.

She held one boot in her lap.

Kael stopped.

The boot had lost part of its sole.

Iris was repairing it with waxed cord.

"You knew that was happening?"

"Since yesterday."

"And you said nothing?"

Iris looked up.

"To whom?"

"Anyone."

"What would they do?"

"Fix it."

"I am fixing it."

Kael stared.

She returned to pulling thread through leather.

That was very Iris.

He sat on the next timber stack.

For a while, neither spoke.

Iris worked.

Kael watched the forest.

Eventually she said, "You’re bad at resting."

"I rested."

"You sat beside Tovin."

"That counts."

"No."

"Galahad said sitting counts."

"Galahad lies when convenient."

Kael looked at her.

Iris tightened a knot.

"You know that."

"I’m starting to."

She turned the boot and inspected the seam.

Kael glanced toward her gear.

Her bow rested within easy reach.

Knives secured.

Rope cleaned and recoiled.

Evidence samples sealed separately.

Everything had a place.

"You always repair your own equipment?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Iris looked at him as though the answer were obvious.

"Because it breaks."

"That’s not what I mean."

She threaded the cord through another hole.

Kael waited.

Iris understood he would.

That was probably annoying.

"My father used to say you should know how everything keeping you alive fails."

Kael stayed quiet.

There it was.

Not a biography.

A door opened half an inch.

Iris continued without looking at him.

"Boots. Bowstring. saddle leather. Knife tang. pack stitching. Rope."

"People?"

Her hands stopped.

Only for a moment.

"Harder."

Kael regretted the question.

Iris resumed.

"My father tracked caravans through mountain country. Not an adventurer. Not a ranger. Just someone merchants paid when they were afraid of getting lost."

"What happened?"

Iris looked up.

"No."

Kael nodded immediately.

"Fair."

She watched him for a second.

"You stopped."

"You said no."

"Most nobles ask again."

"I’ve met several people recently who dislike nobles."

That got a faint smile.

"Might be something to that."

Kael looked west again.

"Did you hear the bell?"

"Yes."

"Any idea?"

"No."

"Tracks from whatever made the roar?"

"No."

"Can you—"

"Not at night."

Kael sighed.

Iris smiled slightly.

"You were going to ask."

"Yes."

"At dawn."

"I know."

"No, you were going to say you knew."

Kael looked at her.

She tied the final knot.

"I have learned your habits too."

Apparently everyone had.

Iris put the boot back on and stamped once against the timber.

"Good enough."

"You said people were harder."

She glanced at him.

Kael continued before she could shut the door entirely.

"How do they fail?"

Iris looked toward the camp.

Milo slept beside a wagon.

Sera sat awake nearby.

Darius stood beyond them speaking quietly with Rolan.

Rask remained with his people.

Veyra sat alone beneath the awning of a storage shed.

Iris answered.

"Usually before anyone admits it."

Kael thought of Milo’s mana.

Sera’s arrows.

Galahad’s hip.

Darius’s shoulder.

Rask’s guilt.

Veyra’s silence.

His own ribs.

"That seems inconvenient."

"It is."

She hopped down.

"Go sleep."

"You too."

"I have second watch."

"Of course you do."

Iris lifted her bow.

"Prince."

"I’m going."

She watched until he actually moved.

Kael hated competent people.

Mostly because Blackwood was filling with them.

He found Darius before he found sleep.

That was also predictable.

Darius stood beside Rolan near one of the supply wagons while two guards inventoried what remained. The conversation ended when Kael approached.

Rolan looked at him.

"You were told to rest."

"So was Darius."

Darius did not react.

Rolan glanced at him.

"He has not."

Kael smiled.

"Excellent."

Darius looked between them.

"I dislike both of you."

Rolan’s eyebrows rose.

"You are tired."

"Yes."

Kael almost laughed.

Darius’s shoulder bothered him.

More than he admitted.

Kael could tell from the way he held his left arm slightly lower than normal.

Rolan could too.

"When we reach Westbrook station, you get that reopened and cleaned properly."

Darius looked at him.

"It is already cleaned."

"Properly."

"It was done properly."

Rolan folded his arms.

Darius stared.

Kael waited.

Darius finally said, "Fine."

Kael smiled.

Darius turned toward him.

"You too."

Kael stopped smiling.

Rolan laughed.

Actually laughed.

Quietly.

Still.

Kael pointed at him.

"You enjoyed that."

"I did."

The guards loading the wagon pretended not to hear.

Darius looked toward the western road.

"Nothing since the disturbance."

"No," Rolan said.

"Any message from Westbrook?"

"Not yet."

"They should have received ours."

"Yes."

Kael leaned against the wagon.

"Could the bell have come from an old tower?"

Rolan shook his head.

"Not one I know."

"Old mining structure?"

"Maybe."

Darius looked at him.

"Do not begin inventing possibilities to fill missing information."

Kael frowned.

"I asked."

"You were about to continue."

He was.

Darius knew him too well.

Rolan glanced toward the forest.

"We will know more after daylight."

"Assuming the tracks are still readable," Kael said.

"Iris will tell us."

That ended it.

Kael finally went to sleep.

Not well.

But enough.

He dreamed of bells.

Not one.

Sixty-four.

That part made no sense.

He woke before dawn with no memory of why sixty-four mattered.

For a few seconds, he stared at the rough timber ceiling of Bastin’s spare bunkhouse.

Then Milo rolled over on the floor beside the opposite wall and muttered, "No, that is my stew."

Kael covered his face.

The dream vanished.

Morning arrived gray.

No attack came during the night.

No drakes.

No strangers.

No second western bell.

Kael should have been relieved.

Instead, the absence felt like another piece of information.

People emerged slowly.

Some moved like they had slept.

Others moved like their bodies had merely stopped.

Galahad was already outside by the time Kael reached the yard.

Of course.

The Guild leader stood over a rough map Bastin had drawn on an old packing board.

Derren sat nearby wrapped in a blanket.

He had somehow acquired tea.

Kael looked at him.

"How?"

Derren held the cup protectively.

"I am beloved."

Bastin shouted from the cookfire, "He stole it."

Derren sipped.

"Beloved."

Milo appeared behind Kael.

Hair pointing in three directions.

Eyes barely open.

"Is there more?"

Bastin looked at him.

"Tea?"

"Stew."

"It is dawn."

"That is not an answer."

Sera followed.

"You slept."

Milo turned.

"I resent the accusation."

"You snored."

"I did not."

Kael smiled.

Derren raised his cup.

"I do."

Everyone looked at him.

Derren shrugged.

"Apparently."

That was progress.

The camp healer emerged from the sorting shed.

Conversation stopped.

Kael stepped toward her.

"Tovin?"

She looked at him.

"Still alive."

"Travel?"

"Maybe."

Kael exhaled.

She raised one finger.

"Maybe."

The gray-haired Blackwood healer came out behind her.

"We move him once. Not three times."

Rolan approached.

"What does that mean?"

"Load him directly into the best wagon and do not unload him at Westbrook unless his condition worsens. Continue toward Blackwood if the road remains manageable."

"How far can he travel?"

The healer rubbed his eyes.

"His body does not know distance."

Rolan nodded.

Fair answer.

"We move slowly."

"Yes."

"No magic near him unless necessary."

"Yes."

"Milo rides rear wagon."

Milo froze.

"What?"

The healer pointed.

"Rear wagon."

"I can walk."

"You nearly fell asleep into a fire last night."

"That is an exaggeration."

Sera looked at him.

"You leaned toward it."

"I was cold."

"It was six feet away."

"Radiant heat."

The healer ignored him.

"Rear wagon."

Milo looked toward Kael.

Kael smiled.

"Rest."

"Abuse of authority."

"Probably."

The morning organization happened quickly.

That impressed Kael.

The night before, the camp had been overwhelmed.

By dawn, everyone knew what needed doing.

Tovin was transferred to Blackwood’s best covered wagon with thick padding under the suspension points. Lysa remained beside him because separating them caused more stress than allowing her to ride. Derren joined reluctantly after being informed that his opinion had no medical relevance. Kel attempted to volunteer as a wagon guard.

Rask grabbed him by the collar.

"Ride."

Kel looked betrayed.

"You cannot keep doing this."

"I can until your ribs stop making that face."

"My ribs have no face."

"You do."

Mara climbed into the wagon beside Kel.

"Move."

Kel moved.

Rask stared.

Kael noticed.

Mara looked at him.

"What?"

Rask shook his head.

"Nothing."

Interesting.

Davin and Eron volunteered to walk with the Blackwood guards around the wounded wagon.

Rolan allowed it.

Weapons sheathed.

House guards on both sides.

Not trust.

Not hostility either.

A functioning compromise.

Veyra had packed before anyone asked whether she planned to leave with them.

Kael noticed.

"So you’re coming?"

She secured her damaged focus beneath her cloak.

"You have roads."

"That is your reason?"

"Currently."

"You could leave east alone."

"Yes."

"But?"

Veyra looked toward the western forest.

"My teacher is still somewhere connected to this."

"Maybe."

"Yes."

Kael waited.

She sighed.

"And you have samples."

There.

Milo, already sitting in the rear wagon under protest, called over, "I knew it."

Veyra looked toward him.

"You know very little."

"Cruel before breakfast."

"You ate twice."

Milo looked toward Sera.

"Why is everyone monitoring me?"

Sera adjusted her quiver.

"Because you tell people when you’re hungry."

"I communicate needs."

"You announce them."

Nine usable arrows.

The cracked emergency shaft stayed separated.

Sera checked the fletching on one arrow and returned it.

No count.

Kael noticed.

Did not stare.

Better.

Before leaving, Galahad found Rellan’s family.

The boy from yesterday stood beside his mother.

He looked younger in morning light.

Too young.

Galahad spoke quietly.

"We are leaving for Blackwood. Once the wounded are secure, the Guild will organize a recovery expedition."

The woman’s hands tightened together.

"For Rellan?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"I will not give you a date I cannot keep."

Her expression hardened.

Galahad continued.

"But his location is marked. We know the route. We are bringing him home."

The boy looked at him.

"Can I go?"

"No."

Immediate.

The boy flinched.

Galahad lowered himself slightly so he was not speaking down as much.

"I understand why you want to."

"No, you don’t."

Galahad paused.

Then nodded.

"You’re right."

That surprised the boy.

Galahad continued.

"I know why I would want to. That is not the same thing."

Kael watched from several paces away.

The boy looked toward the west.

"I should help."

"You can."

"How?"

"Tell me everything Rellan carried when he left."

The boy frowned.

Galahad explained.

"Clothes. jewelry. scars. gear. Anything distinctive. When we recover him, I want no uncertainty."

The boy’s anger shifted.

Not gone.

Given somewhere to go.

"He had a leather wrist tie."

Galahad nodded.

"Which hand?"

"Left."

The mother spoke.

"Brown. Three knots."

The boy added, "His boot buckle was cracked."

"Which boot?"

"Right."

Galahad looked toward the scribe.

"Write it."

The boy stepped closer.

"He had a bad coin."

Galahad blinked.

"A bad coin?"

"Bent."

The mother closed her eyes briefly.

"He kept it because he said nobody else was stupid enough to steal it."

The boy swallowed.

"He said it was lucky."

Galahad did not smile.

"Anything else?"

The boy continued.

By the end, he had work.

That mattered.

Kael understood what Galahad had done.

Not distraction.

Participation.

A way to help without putting a grieving child into an A-rank disaster zone.

Good leadership.

Kael would remember.

They left the charcoal camp shortly after sunrise.

Bastin came with them.

That surprised Derren.

"You’re abandoning your stew?"

Bastin sat on the driver’s bench.

"I’m driving the spare wagon."

"They have drivers."

"I don’t trust them."

Rolan looked toward him.

Bastin added, "With this road."

Rolan accepted the amendment.

Derren smiled from inside the wagon.

"You missed me."

Bastin clicked his tongue at the horses.

"I am reconsidering."

The camp slowly disappeared behind them.

The eastern road was better.

Not good.

Better.

Wider than the western charcoal path, graded in sections, with drainage ditches that had clearly received maintenance within the year. The wagons could move side by side in some places, though Rolan kept them staggered to reduce congestion.

Iris disappeared ahead almost immediately.

Not alone.

One House scout went with her.

Kael noticed the difference.

She had support now.

Darius remained near the front wagon.

Galahad rode for the first half hour only because Rolan ordered him onto a horse.

Galahad hated it.

Kael enjoyed that.

"You look uncomfortable."

Galahad shifted in the saddle.

"I dislike horses."

The horse flicked an ear.

Milo called from the wagon.

"It knows."

Galahad looked back.

"You are supposed to sleep."

"I can insult people while resting."

Sera walked beside the wagon.

"Unfortunately."

The morning became almost peaceful.

That lasted thirty-seven minutes.

Iris returned at a run.

Not a sprint.

Fast enough.

Rolan raised his hand.

The column stopped.

"What?"

"Tracks ahead."

Galahad dismounted.

"What kind?"

"Drake."

The mood changed immediately.

Darius’s hand went to his sword.

Sera’s bow came free.

Rask’s people closed around the wounded wagon.

Kael scanned the road.

Nothing immediate.

Iris continued.

"One."

"Mature?" Darius asked.

"Probably."

"Direction?"

"East."

Everyone looked east.

Rolan’s expression hardened.

"How recent?"

"Last night."

The System opened.

[Tracking Support]

Large draconic passage probable

Estimated age: 6–12 hours

Direction: east-northeast

Behavioral inference: movement rapid

Kael looked toward Iris.

"It was moving fast."

She nodded.

"Yes."

"Chasing?"

"Maybe."

Milo sat upright.

"Or fleeing."

Nobody needed him to explain.

The forest west.

The roar.

The bell.

Drakes already displaced east before.

Rolan looked toward the road ahead.

"Does the track cross our route?"

"Yes."

"Continue along it?"

"No. It leaves northeast after the crossing."

Good.

Galahad crouched beside the first print.

The drake had crushed half the ditch under one foot.

"This came closer to settled routes than normal?"

Bastin answered from the wagon.

"Yes."

"How much closer?"

Bastin looked uncomfortable.

"Too much."

Useful measurement.

Kael looked east.

"Westbrook?"

"Not on its exact line," Iris said. "But close enough that scouts there need warning."

Rolan called one guard forward.

"Ride."

The guard mounted.

"Tell Westbrook a mature drake crossed the eastern charcoal road during the night moving northeast. No engagement unless necessary to protect civilians. Track only from distance."

"Yes, Captain."

The rider left.

Kael looked toward Rolan.

"Good."

Rolan glanced at him.

"I was not asking."

"I know."

"Then stop sounding surprised."

Kael smiled.

They crossed the tracks.

The drake had not lingered.

No blood.

No signs of hunting.

No carcass nearby.

No scorched trees.

Just one enormous creature moving fast enough to tear the road shoulder apart.

Galahad looked toward the west.

"Displacement."

Darius nodded.

"Most likely."

Kael opened the System one more time.

[Regional Pattern Update]

Observed draconic migration behavior: increasingly inconsistent with normal territorial patterns

Possible causes: environmental pressure / threat displacement / magical interference

Insufficient evidence for primary cause

Good.

Still uncertain.

That was becoming the shape of the entire expedition.

Enough evidence to know something was wrong.

Not enough to know who was doing what.

They moved again.

The road crossed a shallow stream near midday.

There, they stopped for water.

Not long.

Tovin could not tolerate repeated delays.

The healers checked him without unloading.

Kael stayed away unless called.

That was difficult.

He succeeded.

Mostly.

Instead he walked toward the stream where Rask stood alone washing blood from one glove.

Kael stopped several paces away.

Rask glanced over.

"If you’re here to ask whether I knew about the drake, no."

"I wasn’t."

"Good."

Kael crouched near the water.

For a while, Rask worked the glove between his hands.

Then Kael asked, "How long have you been Iron Vanguard?"

Rask looked at him.

"That sounds like the beginning of an interrogation."

"Conversation."

"Princes call interrogations conversations."

"Veyra said something similar."

Rask snorted.

"Smart woman."

Kael waited.

Rask rinsed the glove.

"Long enough."

"That is not a number."

"Fifteen years."

Kael remembered.

Kel.

Fifteen years.

"So Kel joined around the same time?"

Rask looked over sharply.

"You remember that?"

"Yes."

Rask stared at him for a second.

Then returned to the glove.

"Kel came later."

"How much later?"

"Months."

"Harven?"

"Kid."

"When?"

"Still is, depending on who you ask."

Kael smiled slightly.

Rask did too.

Barely.

"You built this group?"

"Some of it."

"Why?"

Rask did not answer immediately.

Kael expected the wall.

Instead Rask looked at the stream.

"Because nobody else wanted us."

Kael stayed quiet.

That was not what he expected.

Rask continued.

"Mercenary crews want experience. Guilds want records. armies want papers. noble Houses want obedience."

His mouth twisted.

"We had strong backs."

"Nothing else?"

"Enough anger to work cheap."

Kael thought of Kel.

Harven.

Mara.

The workers below.

Rask scrubbed dried blood from the seam.

"Vanguard gave people equipment."

"Training?"

"Some."

"Food?"

"Usually."

"Pay?"

"When there was pay."

"That sounds terrible."

Rask laughed.

"You grew up in a palace?"

Kael’s face changed.

Rask noticed.

"Bad guess?"

"Complicated."

"Everything with you is complicated."

"That seems popular too."

Rask rinsed the glove one final time.

"Vanguard gave people somewhere to stand."

There.

That mattered more than pay.

Kael understood.

"And then?"

Rask’s expression hardened.

"And then people with somewhere to stand start believing whoever gave it to them has the right to tell them where to walk."

Kael looked at him.

Rask put the wet glove back on.

"Don’t turn that into forgiveness."

"I wasn’t."

"Good."

He stood.

"I don’t know what happens when we get to Blackwood."

"Neither do I."

"You could decide."

"I could."

Rask looked down at him.

"But you won’t."

"Not alone."

Rask stared.

That answer bothered him.

Or impressed him.

Kael could not tell.

"Strange prince."

"I keep hearing that."

Rask walked back toward his people.

Kael stayed beside the stream for another minute.

Some organizations survived because people believed in them.

Others survived because people needed them before they understood what they were joining.

That thought felt important.

He stored it.

The road climbed after the stream.

By early afternoon, the trees began thinning.

Then Kael saw it.

A watchtower.

Simple.

Timber.

Blackwood banner at the top.

Silver dragon against black cloth.

Westbrook road station.

Milo sat up.

"Civilization."

Sera looked toward the tower.

"It is three buildings."

"Civilization begins somewhere."

Derren pushed himself higher inside the wagon.

"Westbrook?"

Bastin nodded.

"Almost."

Lysa looked through the wagon opening.

Her face changed.

Relief.

Tovin did not wake.

That was probably better.

The tower bell rang.

Not mysterious.

Not ancient.

Not deep.

Three clear strikes.

Blackwood code.

The gate opened.

Guards came out.

Behind them, villagers.

Not dozens.

Enough.

People knew the missing had been found.

News traveled faster than wagons.

Kael saw the faces.

Hope.

Fear.

Searching.

Again.

He understood now why Galahad had gone quiet at the charcoal camp.

Returns were not endings.

Every person coming back reminded someone that another person had not.

Captain Rolan lifted one hand.

The column slowed.

Kael looked back once.

The western forest was no longer visible from here.

Hidden behind miles of road and trees.

The Caldera lay farther still.

But the evidence had followed them.

Tovin.

Lysa.

Rask.

Mara.

Veyra.

The altered-drake scale.

The memory of Joren.

The unexplained bell.

The migrating drake tracks.

They did not need to carry the mountain itself home.

The mountain had already sent pieces with them.

Westbrook’s guards approached.

Rolan turned toward Kael.

"Once the healers confirm Tovin can continue, we move directly to Blackwood."

Kael nodded.

"No ceremony."

"No ceremony."

"No crowd around the wounded."

"No crowd."

Galahad added, "Guild report before rumors outrun us."

Rolan nodded.

Darius looked toward Kael.

"And you sleep."

Kael stared.

Rolan joined him.

"Yes."

Galahad nodded.

"Yes."

Sera called from behind them.

"Yes."

Milo lifted his hand from the wagon.

"Absolutely."

Kael looked around.

"This is becoming insubordination."

Derren’s voice came from inside the wagon.

"Sleep, Your Highness."

Even Lysa laughed.

Kael sighed.

"Fine."

The laughter spread.

Not loudly.

Not for long.

Enough.

Then the column rolled beneath the Westbrook banner.

For the first time since they entered the western forest, Kael crossed a guarded Blackwood gate.

He thought relief would feel like victory.

Instead it felt heavier.

Because now that the wounded were almost home, there was nothing left to hide behind.

They would rest.

They would count the dead.

They would examine the evidence.

They would prepare.

And then they would go back.

Not because the Caldera called them.

Because people were still waiting there.