---
Dickoff returned to the Iron House mansion shortly after sunrise.
The black wooden box never left his hands.
He had a storage ring. He had servants who could carry anything he ordered. He had guards, though far fewer than yesterday. None of that mattered. Mihos had told him to be careful with the thing inside the box, and Dickoff was frightened enough to take that warning seriously. He held it against his chest during the entire carriage ride back to the city, with both hands wrapped around it as if someone might reach through the carriage wall and steal it.
No one did.
That did not make him relax.
Every wheel that struck a stone made his fingers tighten. Every rider passing nearby made him glance toward the window. Once, when the carriage slowed behind a broken delivery cart, Dickoff nearly shouted at the driver to run the whole thing over before he realized the obstruction had nothing to do with Dawn House.
He hated that.
