Aria’s POV
He came with empty hands.
No cloak. No mark. No staff this time. Just the man who’d scratched _Why?_ on bark and sent it downriver. The Warden who listened instead of came.
He stopped where the knife used to be. Where the cloth and roots and stones marked the soil now. He didn’t look at the burial. He looked at the bowls.
Sen was already filling one. Didn’t ask his rank. Didn’t ask his name. Just set it on the ground between his feet. No table. No rank. Same rule as always.
He sat. Cross-legged, like the trader did. Like Coren the Warden did. Like people sit when they’re done counting blades.
“I’m Coren too,” he said. Not as an apology. As a fact. “The one who asked why.”
Ridah nodded. Didn’t stand. Her hands were empty now. No commander weight. No palm on steel. Ju
