Morning broke over Greyrest with the promise of rain. The clouds hung low and heavy, dimming the sun's early rise. Ethan, however, was already moving. Clad in a grey cloak, hood drawn low, he made his way through the quieter eastern quarter, where the stables sat beside a crumbling watchtower. A few stablehands nodded as he passed, their eyes casting curious glances. He ignored them. He was looking for one man.
He found Weylin sharpening a dagger beneath an awning, his gear neatly bundled beside him. The man stood when Ethan approached, but didn't offer a salute. There was no need for formality yet.
"You said you'd find me," Weylin said, voice gravelled by the cold air.
"And here I am." Ethan eyed him carefully. "Still serious about your offer?"
Weylin gave a single nod. "Long as it's not lord's work. I don't serve vanity."
Ethan motioned for him to follow. They walked silently through the alley behind the granary and entered through a narrow side door. The basement chamber had been refitted since Kael's last visit, maps lined the walls, with pins marking points around Greyrest, both within and beyond its borders. This was not a soldier's office. It was a tactician's mind laid bare.
Ethan turned to Weylin. "You're not joining the guard. Not the training recruits. What I'm offering you is something quieter. Riskier. More important."
Weylin said nothing, waiting.
"I need eyes and ears. Someone who knows how to move unseen, how to get in and out of places others can't. There are threats we can't face in the open, yet. I'm forming a group. Small, loyal, sharp. The town sees soldiers. I'm building shadows."
Weylin considered this, his eyes scanning the map behind Ethan. "You'll have enemies. You already do."
"I know."
"And you want me to be your knife in the dark?"
"I want you to be what you already are," Ethan replied. "But with purpose. With backing. And with cause."
Weylin reached for his satchel and pulled out a worn leather-bound journal, flipping to a page filled with sketches and rough terrain notes. He pointed to a marked glade west of the river bend.
"There's a camp here. They don't wear colors, but they're armed. Scout patrols. Quiet. I watched them for two days. They're not bandits, they're trained."
Ethan leaned in, brows narrowing. "You think they're watching Greyrest?"
"Wouldn't be the first time a quiet town was scouted before a takeover."
Ethan nodded slowly. "Then your first task is to learn more. Don't engage. Just eyes and patterns."
Weylin's lips twitched into the hint of a grin. "Now this feels familiar."
"I'll make sure you're supplied. You report only to me. No one else. You disappear if you're caught. No help, no rescue. Understood?"
Weylin gave a crisp nod. "Understood."
Ethan offered his hand. Weylin clasped it, firm and quick. A silent contract made.
That afternoon, Ethan returned to the training grounds. The recruits were progressing, slowly. The mud from the morning rain added chaos to the drills. Torren barked commands with the roughness of a tavern brawler, but he had the men moving.
Ethan spotted Daisy near the tool shed, leaning as she always did, half-interested, half-detached. She noticed him but didn't move.
"Still watching?" he asked as he approached.
"You already know I am." She shrugged. "Your brawler over there, Torren he's got temper, but the others listen. Might be a good field sergeant."
"I've seen the same." Ethan paused, glancing toward a lanky boy failing miserably at holding his spear steady. "And him?"
Daisy scoffed. "Scared of his own shadow. But good hands. Could be better at something else. He's quick."
Ethan made a note. "You've been useful, Daisy. And you haven't said no."
"I haven't said yes either," she replied. "Maybe I'm just bored."
"Then I hope boredom continues to be useful."
They stood in silence for a moment, watching a sparring pair tumble into the mud. One cursed loudly. Another laughed. It wasn't an army yet. But it was something.
Later that night, Ethan met with Elyra in her quarters above the old bakery. It smelled faintly of flour and ink. Scrolls and ledgers were spread across the table.
"The gold mine's operation is stable," Elyra said. "Kael's been precise. He's built a system of rotation, no worker stays more than three days in a row. Cuts down on suspicion."
"Good," Ethan replied. "Weylin's in. He's already found something. A camp west of the river."
Her eyes narrowed. "Scouts?"
"Could be. Too early to say."
"I'll put together an exit plan if it goes bad. We can't afford to expose the mine. Or the Shadow list."
Ethan nodded. "We're moving pieces now. The game hasn't started, but the board's changing."
Elyra leaned back in her chair. "And the council?"
"They think I'm just training guards. Let's keep it that way."
Outside, the rain had finally begun. Soft, steady. Greyrest slept under a growing veil of tension, but within the silence, a storm had already begun to stir.
And Ethan was making sure that when it broke, they would not be caught unprepared.