He had received the report only hours earlier: another aid convoy had entered the southern valley bearing Ethan crest. Blankets, grain, medicinal supplies. And with them, praise from the villagers who spoke Ethan’s name with gratitude and admiration.
He didn’t speak at first. The silence stretched so long that his attendant dared a glance.
"My lord?" the advisor asked hesitantly.
Darius’s jaw tightened. "Tell the scouts to monitor every interaction those convoys have with the locals. I want names of anyone who speaks in favor of Ethan. And inform the border patrol—no more unescorted entry. I’ll draft a decree under the guise of tightened security."
The attendant bowed quickly and fled. Darius remained, his fingers curling at the rail.
He had been generous. Patient. Loyal. He had stood
