The council chamber smelled faintly of damp wool and parchment. Patrol leaders clustered around the big table, heads bent over a new set of winter maps. Gilbert stood at the far end, listening to a scout's report with his arms crossed.
When the meeting broke, Ella stepped in. “I need a word."
He didn't dismiss the others, but his eyes flicked to her. “Go ahead."
“Sophie's altered the supply routes twice this week," she said, keeping her voice even. “Liam's been strutting through the yard like he owns it, and two grain carts came in with mismatched seals."
“I have it contained," Gilbert said. His tone wasn't sharp—just closed.
---
“That's not good enough," she pressed. “You know the signs as well as I do. Someone's pulling strings."
“I said it's contained," he repeated, not unkind, b
