The road narrowed as it approached the city, not by design but by concession. Stone walls rose gradually from the earth, not abruptly, as if the city had been persuaded rather than imposed. Towers marked intervals along the perimeter, their silhouettes clean and unornamented. No banners flew.
"This is deliberate restraint," Lirael said. "They want to appear unaligned."
Calreth nodded. "Eshar Vale prides itself on neutrality. Trade passes through. Doctrine does not."
Torren snorted softly. "That's never true."
"No," Calreth agreed. "But it is profitable to pretend."
They slowed as they drew nearer. The road was well-maintained here, stones fitted with care, edges swept. Guards stood at intervals, armored but relaxed, their hands resting near weapons without gripping them.
Aarinen felt it again—the subtle pressure of systems at work. This was not the blunt force of erasure he had sensed before, nor the unstable tension of the convergence. This was containment. Categorization. A readiness to assign meaning before asking permission.
At the gate, a single official stepped forward. He wore layered robes rather than armor, his insignia small and precise.
"Names and purpose," he said calmly.
Calreth spoke first. "Calreth of no house. Traveler."
The official nodded, marking something on a slate.
Torren gave a false name without hesitation. Saevel did the same. Rafi hesitated only a fraction longer before offering his.
When it came to Aarinen, the official looked up.
"And you?"
Aarinen met his gaze.
"Aarinen," he said. "I walk east."
The official paused.
"Purpose?" he asked again.
Aarinen smiled faintly. "To remain."
Silence stretched.
The official did not smile back.
"That is not an acceptable purpose," he said.
Eryna stepped forward.
"He means residence," she said evenly. "Temporary."
The official studied them all carefully.
"Then you may enter," he said at last. "But know this: Eshar Vale tolerates presence, not disruption."
Aarinen inclined his head. "I will try not to laugh too loudly."
The official frowned, uncertain whether he had been mocked, then waved them through.
Inside, the city revealed itself in layers. Markets clustered near the gates, their noise immediate and transactional. Further in, streets widened, stonework refined. People moved with practiced efficiency, their attention divided between commerce and caution.
"They already know," Rafi whispered.
"Yes," Lirael replied. "But not what to do with it."
They secured lodging in a modest inn near the central thoroughfare. The proprietor asked few questions and charged slightly more than necessary—an early price for uncertainty.
Once settled, Calreth spoke quietly.
"You should not remain visible here for long," he said. "Observation in cities compounds."
Torren frowned. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," Calreth replied, "that stories here gain infrastructure."
As if summoned by the words, a knock sounded at the door.
Saevel's hand moved subtly. Torren shifted position.
Eryna opened the door.
A woman stood there, flanked by two guards. Her clothing was fine but understated, her posture rigid with practiced authority. She did not smile.
"I am Magistrate Velyn," she said. "You were expected."
Aarinen laughed softly.
"That's becoming a theme."
Velyn's gaze fixed on him.
"Your presence has been noted," she said. "You will answer questions."
"Am I accused?" Aarinen asked.
"No," Velyn replied. "Not yet."
She stepped aside.
"Walk with me."
Eryna's expression tightened. "He does not go alone."
Velyn considered this.
"Then all of you may come," she said. "But understand: this is courtesy."
They followed her through quieter streets, toward a building whose architecture emphasized symmetry over beauty. Inside, the air felt thick with precedent.
They were seated around a long table. No chains. No overt threats.
"Eshar Vale values stability," Velyn began. "You disturb it."
Aarinen leaned back slightly. "I haven't done anything."
"That," Velyn replied, "is precisely the concern."
She gestured, and a scribe set down a series of reports—summaries of events, stripped of emotion.
"A convergence destabilized," Velyn continued. "A settlement altered its migration patterns. Messengers report anomalies."
She looked directly at Aarinen.
"You are present at each juncture."
Aarinen nodded. "I tend to be."
"Do you deny causation?" she asked.
"No," he replied. "But I deny control."
Velyn frowned. "Those are not equivalent."
"No," Aarinen agreed. "They're worse."
Silence followed.
Eryna spoke then.
"You are not here to judge him," she said. "You are here to decide how to classify him."
Velyn's eyes narrowed. "Classification is governance."
"And governance," Eryna replied, "is not fate."
Velyn considered this.
"Eshar Vale will not act against you," she said finally. "But you will be monitored."
Aarinen smiled faintly. "I assumed as much."
Velyn stood.
"You will leave the city within three days," she said. "Not by force. By agreement."
Aarinen rose as well.
"Agreed," he said. "Cities and I rarely get along."
As they were escorted out, Calreth exhaled slowly.
"That went better than expected," he murmured.
"Yes," Lirael replied. "Which means worse things are moving elsewhere."
That night, Aarinen stood on the inn's roof, looking out over the city lights. The laughter stirred—not painful, not defiant, but alert.
Below, unseen, plans were being drafted.
The gates of Eshar Vale had remained open.
But courtesy, Aarinen knew, was only the first mechanism of control.
And it never lasted.