Hajin knelt by the northern culvert grate and held a lantern over the crumpled ransom note pinned beneath a flat river stone.
He lifted the paper and smoothed its jagged creases as Hans and Sable crowded close enough to read the ink.
"What does their ransom demand say, Lord Hajin?" Hans asked, his hand resting tightly on his sword pommel.
"Send Hajin alone by the old kiln road," he read aloud, his voice dropping into dangerous, flat gravity.
"Open your divine wings or move your garrison guards north, and the central grain shed burns before midnight."
"A classic diversion note designed to pull our heavy infantry away from the palisade," Sable observed, stringing her composite bow.
"They want you walking down the exposed kiln road where their concealed archers have pre-sighted crossfire kill zones."
"Sergeant Hans, take three guards and secure the northern drainage grate," Hajin commanded, pointing toward the damaged storm culvert.
