War announced itself with noise.
This one arrived with numbers.
By the third morning after the trial, the city’s ledgers no longer balanced. Not catastrophically—nothing dramatic enough to spark panic—but with a precision that felt intentional.
Prices rose in increments too small to protest.
Deliveries arrived late but complete.
Insurance guarantees “revised” their language.
The city functioned.
Poorly.
Seraphina noticed before the council did.
That was her curse now.
“They’re squeezing the joints,” Damien said, scanning the reports spread across the long table in the keep’s war room.
“No,” Seraphina replied quietly. “They’re testing elasticity.”
She traced a finger along the map—not borders, but routes. Trade lines. Resource flows. Points of dependence long ignored because the
