Patience is usually framed as virtue.
Here, it sharpens into strategy.
By the fourth morning, the outsiders expect deterioration.
They expect sloppier watches. Short tempers. A mistake loud enough to justify entry. They watch for it from ridgelines and river bends, measuring yawns and missteps, counting how long a city can live on restraint alone.
What they don’t expect is stillness used deliberately.
The city wakes into a quieter rhythm.
Not lethargic.
Intentional.
Movements are fewer but cleaner. Routes shorten. Conversations tighten to what matters. No one wastes words on panic anymore. Panic is expensive. They’ve learned that.
The shadow coils, attentive.
When patience becomes conscious, it turns outward.
Kael notices it first at the river table.
No crowd today.
Just a han
