The Ironwood territory stretched wide and wild beneath the last days of summer. Once, the forests and valleys had rung with prideful names and sturdy alliances. Now, the banners overhead had changed, and those living under them were not so quick to forget. That morning, Ethan left Starfall with Lysander and Kaelan beside him, prepared for the kind of diplomacy that swords and systems could never win.
The trek to the southern border took them through lands scarred by history: villages rebuilt after raids, old watchposts converted into schools and storehouses. As the carriage rolled past new fields, Ethan watched the play of sunlight on fences mended by stubborn hands. A sense of restlessness permeated the air, even among the children racing carts by the roadside.
"You feel it too," Lysander remarked as their escort veered toward the Ironwood manor. "They see us as the victors. Some call it peace. Others see defeat."
