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The crossbowman—his name was Piers—helped rebuild the south fence. The axe-bearer, Finn, turned out to have a gift for carving wooden toys. Within a month, the village council voted to grant them residency. Within a year, Piers married the baker’s widow. Finn became the town’s first toymaker. And Marrow opened a small infirmary.

“I’m not your enemy,” he said quietly. “But I’m also not your friend. The patrol from Verveil will reach this ridge by dusk. If you stay, you die.” passive pillager

Kaelen had his sword sheathed. His palms were open. Within a year, Piers married the baker’s widow

The crossbowman tried to stand, winced, and fell back. “Then we die. We have nowhere else.” “I’m not your enemy,” he said quietly

Marrow’s weathered face cracked into a small, tired smile. “I can heal her. I was a bonesetter’s apprentice before the warlord’s men took me.”

“Give me the crossbow. And the axe.”

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