The commanding officer took the document. Read it. Read it again. His face performed the specific journey of a man whose objections were dissolving in real time because the document was airtight and the man presenting it had a hundred wolves and a king's endorsement and a legal argument so clean it could have been framed.
"House Vaeryn will contest this."
"House Vaeryn is welcome to contest it. House Vaeryn will need to explain to the High Court why a chartered territory has lost sixty percent of its population, why the border infrastructure hasn't been repaired in a decade, and why the commanding officer of their garrison is fastening his belt at dawn because the posting is so neglected that the duty roster has become optional."
"I'm not going to fight you. I don't have the men for it, I don't have the mandate, and frankly I don't have the interest. House Vaeryn has left us here to rot and I'm not dying for the honor of being their doormat."
He paused. The pause had weight.
