Raven returned to Emberwatch, the wind biting sharper now as the sun dipped behind cloud-wrapped peaks.
Near the barricade, Durnehra stood beside a man clad in Velkarin Axis armor—polished, utilitarian, marked with the silver and black sigils of a middle command tier. Not quite a legate, but close.
The soldier's stance was composed. One hand rested lightly on the pommel of his sword, the other clasped behind his back. Scar over his left brow. Veteran. Cold eyes.
Durnehra turned as Raven approached.
"Commander, this is the man I was talking about," she said.
Raven said nothing. Just met the officer's gaze—and waited.
"You're the outsider who leaped into the bears' den to fight the Ashen Knives?" the commander said, voice edged with skepticism. "Surprised you didn't end up all bruised and bloody like the rest of these fools. This is their home and food convoy, not an amusement for your pleasure."
"You're welcome," Raven replied calmly.
