---
Stephen did not waste time after leaving Mihos's pavilion.
He had served too long under noble houses to mistake anger for noise. Young masters shouted often. They broke cups, kicked tables, and frightened clerks every season. That meant little. What mattered was the kind of anger that became quiet after breaking something. That was the anger Mihos carried now, and Stephen knew better than to let such anger wait without direction.
By the time he stepped out into the colder night air of the camp, three of Mihos's private men were already waiting. Not common guards. Not tent-line soldiers. These were the kind used when instructions were not meant to pass through many mouths before reaching their target.
Stephen looked at them and said, "We are going to the Iron House mansion."
One of the men asked, "To reinforce it?"
