The following week was a blur of brutal, relentless labor. Northpass Keep ceased to be a home and became a living, breathing weapon, forged in the twin fires of necessity and Kaelan’s unyielding will.
The mourning for Tavish was not set aside, but channeled. The deep, rhythmic thud of picks striking frozen earth to expand the defensive ditch became a funeral drum. The rasp of saws and the hammering of the blacksmith’s crew, working through the night to turn every piece of scrap into arrowheads and caltrops, was a song of vengeance.
Kaelan moved through it all like a specter of purpose. He slept in brief, fitful bursts, his mind too occupied with the constant, churning Tactical Simulations. He had spent his newfound wealth of Insight Points, investing heavily in the foundation of his pow
