This was no knock-and-ask visit.
The door rattled hard under the first blow.
The second kick sent it slamming inward, splinters skipping across the floor.
Four soldiers filled the frame, their armor still dusty from the ride. No greetings, no orders read aloud—just the sharp-eyed hunger of men told to bring someone back by any means.
“Mama Mariah,” the one in front barked, voice already brimming with Sergius’s temper. “You’re coming with us. Now.”
She didn’t move from behind her worktable. Her hands rested flat on the wood, thumbs stroking the grain as though calming it.
“I told your master before,” she said, voice low, “I don’t owe him my service.”
The soldier’s jaw flexed. “You’re going to regret saying that.”
From the side door, Old Wrenlow stepped into view—her back bent, her w
