Five days passed without any incident in the Osborn clan. Doors remained closed. Courtyards stayed quiet. Guards rotated their shift on schedule, their movements precise, unhurried. No alarms were raised. No messengers arrived breathless at the gates. The silence was not empty—it was cultivated.
After the ambush, no one expected peace to last. That expectation lingered like a shadow at the edge of their thoughts, but it did not dominate them. Instead, it sharpened focus.
Rooms were sealed for cultivation. Not hastily, not with urgency, but with deliberation. Each seal was checked twice. Each formation was aligned carefully, adjusted for lingering injuries and newly gained insight. Meals were simple and regular. Recovery herbs were measured and logged. Nothing was wasted.
Battle had stripped away illusions. What remained was discipline. Robert noticed it most in the mornings.
