Not every future arrives with thunder.
Some futures come politely, hat in hand, asking to be let in. Those are the dangerous ones. They don’t force choice. They invite it. And invitations always reveal more than demands ever could.
Morning brings the delegation.
Not soldiers.
Not opportunists.
Not strangers trying to disguise domination as diplomacy.
Just people.
The northern trading council does not arrive with banners or escorts. They send four individuals instead of twenty. None of them wear matching cloaks. None of them carry weapons openly. They walk with the confidence of people used to being listened to—
and the restraint of people determined not to mistake that for entitlement.
That combination makes the city alert.
Not threatened.
Awake.
They stop just outside the boun
