The days following the banquet unfolded with a deceptive smoothness.
Crimson Hawk continued to expand, but not with explosive conquest. Instead, it grew like a tide that never receded. Cities adjusted their trade routes quietly. Mercenary guilds updated their internal risk assessments. Minor sects revised their long-term survival plans. None of these changes were announced publicly, yet all of them bent in the same direction.
Toward Vahn.
He did not issue proclamations. He did not demand recognition. He simply existed, and that existence rewrote priorities.
Within Crimson Hawk territory, order had become something almost alien to mercenary culture. Patrols ran on schedules. Supply lines were redundant and layered. Training rotations rotated commanders deliberately so no single individual amassed unchecked loyalty. Cultivation resources were distributed according to contribution and potential, not seniority or favoritism.
At first, some resisted the structure.
