Dawn found me already seated in the Hearth’s archive chamber, surrounded by scrolls and correspondence. The ledger of debts and favors I’d started in secret weeks ago was spread out before me, written in tight, careful script. Every name, every promise, every quiet exchange—it all mattered now. The Hearth might be warm, but this room ran on cold calculation.
A knock at the door broke my focus.
“Come in,” I called.
Harroway stepped in, his dark cloak draped over one shoulder, a fresh cut across his cheekbone.
“You sent for me?”
“I heard about the skirmish near Crossfield.”
He grunted. “We handled it.”
“I need more than swordplay from you now,” I said, sliding a scroll across the table. “We’re gathering leverage. Every noble who’s looked the other way, every merchant who’s kept quiet—
