The knock came at the edge of dusk.

  Not loud.

  Not rushed.

  Not uncertain.

  Three measured strikes.

  Gajisk froze with the hammer still raised, iron glowing dull red on the anvil. The forge fire crackled softly, unaware that something had shifted in the valley.

  Darwin felt it before he understood it.

  A pressure—

  not killing intent,

  not hostility—

  but authority.

  The kind that did not need to announce itself.

  Gajisk lowered the hammer slowly and wiped his hands on a rag. His eyes flicked toward the door, then to Darwin.

  “Stay behind me,” he said.

  Darwin nodded.

  He did not sit.

  ---

  When Gajisk opened the door, the cold rushed in like a living thing.

  Five figures stood outside, half-buried in drifting snow. Dark cloaks clung to their frames, weighed down by frost and travel. Their armor was matte iron—unpolished, unadorned. No house crests. No banners.

  Only a single mark burned faintly on each of their left forearms.

  A broken crown wrapped in chains.

  Imperial Oath-Bound Wardens.

  The man at the front stepped forward just enough for the lantern light to catch his face.

  Middle-aged. Scar across the jaw. Eyes steady, unblinking.

  “Blacksmith Gajisk,” he said.

  Not a question.

  “Yes,” Gajisk replied evenly.

  “We are Imperial Oath-Bound Wardens operating under Crown Mandate Forty-Seven,” the man continued. “We request entry.”

  Request.

  But not a request that could be denied.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Gajisk stepped aside. “You’ll freeze out there.”

  The man inclined his head slightly. “We appreciate efficiency.”

  Darwin watched closely as they entered.

  Every step was controlled.

  Every movement deliberate.

  No one scanned the room openly—yet nothing escaped them.

  These weren’t soldiers.

  They were tools.

  ---

  Steam rose from the cups Gajisk placed on the table. The smell of hot spice cut through the cold air, but none of the Wardens relaxed.

  They did not remove their cloaks.

  The lead Warden spoke again.

  “We are in pursuit of a Rift Assassin.”

  The word settled heavily in the room.

  Darwin’s spine stiffened.

  “Target attempted assassination of the Third Imperial Princess,” the man continued. “Age eight. The attempt failed. The target escaped with injuries.”

  Silence.

  Darwin felt his stomach tighten.

  Children weren’t spared. He already knew that.

  But hearing it spoken so plainly was different.

  Gajisk’s expression did not change. “This valley is quiet.”

  “For now,” the Warden replied.

  Another Warden spoke, voice calm but clipped.

  “Our contracts restrict us.”

  Gajisk raised an eyebrow.

  “We cannot lie,” the man said.

  “We cannot harm civilians.”

  “We cannot pursue beyond this valley’s jurisdiction unless conditions are met.”

  Darwin’s eyes flicked to their forearms again.

  Binding marks.

  Real ones.

  “And yet you’re here,” Gajisk said.

  “Yes.”

  The lead Warden turned his gaze—not to Gajisk—

  but to Darwin.

  “You train,” he said.

  Darwin didn’t flinch. “I do.”

  “With no mana,” the Warden added.

  Darwin’s jaw tightened.

  “Interesting,” the man said. Not impressed. Not mocking. Just… noting.

  ---

  The Warden leaned back slightly, fingers resting near the rim of his cup.

  “Answer something for us,” he said.

  Darwin waited.

  “If you were a Rift Assassin,” the Warden continued,

  “wounded, mana-depleted, hunted by binding contracts…”

  He paused.

  “Where would you hide in this valley?”

  The room went still.

  Darwin felt the weight of the question press down on him.

  Haze Forest came to mind instantly.

  Too instantly.

  “…Not there,” Darwin said slowly.

  The Warden’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

  “Explain.”

  “Haze Forest is the first place anyone would search,” Darwin said. “Tracks vanish, visibility is low—but that also makes it predictable.”

  Gajisk watched him closely now.

  Darwin continued, thinking aloud.

  “A wounded assassin wouldn’t want to move much. They’d want heat. Shelter. A place people don’t expect danger.”

  The Warden nodded once.

  “And where is that?”

  Darwin hesitated.

  Then—

  “Near people,” he said quietly.

  The Warden’s gaze sharpened.

  Outside, something shifted.

  Not loud enough to hear.

  Just enough to feel.

  ---

  The Wardens rose soon after.

  “We will continue our search,” the lead Warden said. “If you notice anything unusual, you will report it.”

  “We cannot force cooperation,” another added calmly. “But failure to report is… discouraged.”

  Gajisk nodded. “Understood.”

  At the door, the lead Warden paused and looked back at Darwin.

  “You have poor balance,” he said.

  Darwin blinked.

  “But you compensate instinctively,” the man continued. “That’s rare.”

  Then he turned and left.

  The door closed.

  The warmth of the forge felt thinner now.

  ---

  For a long moment, neither Gajisk nor Darwin spoke.

  Finally, Gajisk said, “You felt it too.”

  Darwin nodded. “They weren’t afraid.”

  “They don’t need to be,” Gajisk replied.

  Darwin stared at the door.

  Somewhere in the valley—

  a wounded assassin was listening.

  And for the first time since he began training, Darwin felt something worse than failure.

  He felt **seen**.