Ethan had always been a strategist. When emotion failed, he turned to calculation. When presence did not sway, he relied on persuasion. And when gestures fell flat, he turned to influence.
The villages along the borderlands had long struggled with neglect. Crops withered under poor management. Trade routes were severed by past conflicts. People were hungry, tired, and worn thin by a war that never asked their permission.
Ethan poured resources into them.
Food caravans bearing wheat and dried meats arrived weekly. Fresh water wells were dug. Healing herbs and bandages, luxuries in these parts, were distributed with no demand for coin or allegiance. His insignia was never present. Instead, he ordered that Sophia’s crest be affixed to every crate, every banner, every parcel of aid.
He gav
