The scrape of cedar chair legs against the flagstones shattered the fragile silence of Cloud Mist Peak, halting the crawling men where they lay in the dirt.
Brody dragged his b****y chin from the gravel, his swollen eyes tracking the wooden chair as Caleb Conway planted it four paces in front of the paralyzed enforcers. Caleb sat down with the relaxed posture of a district magistrate opening morning court, crossing one leg over his knee while smoothing the fabric of his trousers. From the inner pocket of his coat, he produced a thick sheaf of parchment scrolls bound by red twine, alongside a black glass bottle of ink and an iron tipped dip pen.
The ten men remained pinned beneath the residual drag of the adjusted array, their chests burning as they wheezed against the cold stone. They ha
