Rustline didn't sleep.
It limped.
Generators coughed and steadied. Lights came back wrong—too bright in some places, dead in others. Shadows didn't match the buildings that cast them. The town felt stitched together in a hurry, seams still bleeding.
Cole stayed in the square until the last scream turned into work.
Dusty pressed close, shoulder against his knee, eyes tracking movement the way a scope tracked breath. The dog hadn't stopped vibrating since the table went quiet.
Neither had the ground.
Cole felt it under his boots—Rustline still deciding which version of itself it was allowed to be.
A man approached from the east end of the square. Not the Dealer. Not a local.
This one walked like he owned the pace of the world around him.
He wore no coat.
Didn't need to.
Black vest. White shirt. Sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Forearms marked with faint ink scars that never quite resolved into symbols unless you looked too long.
Enforcer.
Royal-side.
Not human the way people meant it.
Dusty snarled.
Low. Deep. Not fear.
Recognition.
Cole put a hand out. Not touching the dog. Just close enough for Dusty to know he was there.
The Enforcer stopped ten paces out.
No closer.
Like an invisible line had been drawn.
"Cole Marrow," he said.
The voice was clean. Neutral. Not hostile.
That bothered Cole more than if it had been.
"Name like that carries," Cole said.
The Enforcer nodded once. "So I'm told."
Behind him, two more shapes resolved out of the wrongness in the air. Not stepping in. Just… existing.
Witnesses.
"Rustline Hold," the Enforcer continued, "falls under the King of Spades' jurisdiction."
Cole looked past him, at the buildings still standing. At the ones that weren't.
"Funny," Cole said. "Nobody told the town."
The Enforcer's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Towns don't get told. They get counted."
The House stirred.
Not text.
Presence.
Cole felt it hesitate. A rare thing.
"You forced a hand," the Enforcer said. "Without authority."
"No Dealer," Cole replied. "No clean call. That's on you."
The Enforcer tilted his head. Studied him like a problem that wasn't supposed to be this expensive.
"The King allowed the House latitude," he said. "You abused it."
"I survived it."
"That isn't the same thing."
The Enforcer lifted one hand.
Not threatening.
Declarative.
"Rustline remains open," he said. "Conditionally."
Cole felt the word lock into place like a shackle.
"Conditions," Cole said. "There it is."
"The King will audit," the Enforcer went on. "Resources. Population. Yield. Losses."
"And me."
The Enforcer didn't answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Dusty snapped once, teeth loud in the night.
The Enforcer's eyes flicked to the dog.
For the first time, something like uncertainty crossed his face.
"That animal," he said carefully, "is out of category."
Cole's fingers tightened.
"Don't," he warned.
The Enforcer raised his other hand, palm out. "Not a threat. An observation."
The House flickered then. Finally spoke.
HOUSE OF RECKONING // JURISDICTION CLAIMROYAL ENTITY: KING OF SPADESSTATUS: ACCEPTED — PROVISIONAL
Cole felt it like a loss settling late.
"You accepted," Cole said quietly.
The Enforcer inclined his head. "The House is pragmatic."
"Cowardly," Cole said.
The Enforcer didn't rise to it.
"Rustline will close if you leave," he said. "Routes sealed. Trade frozen. Town suffocates slowly."
Cole stared at him.
"And if I stay."
The Enforcer met his gaze.
"Then the King audits you."
Silence spread between them. Thick. Measured.
Dusty growled again, louder now. The sound scraped along the Enforcer's nerves like a blade finding bone.
"You feel that," Cole said. "Don't you."
The Enforcer swallowed. "The animal shouldn't—"
"—do a lot of things," Cole finished. "Yet here we are."
The Enforcer exhaled. Decision settling.
"You will remain in Rustline," he said. "Under observation. Any further disruption will be interpreted as defiance."
Cole nodded once.
"Good," he said.
The Enforcer blinked. "Good?"
"If I was going to run," Cole said, "I'd have done it already."
The Enforcer studied him longer now. Recalculating cost.
"Very well," he said. "The King will be informed."
He stepped back.
The two shapes behind him dissolved into the air like they'd never committed to being real.
Before the Enforcer turned away, Cole spoke.
"You tell your King something for me."
The Enforcer paused.
Cole's voice stayed low. Steady.
"He's bleeding towns to pay debts he can't close. And he just made it personal."
The Enforcer's jaw tightened.
"That isn't advice," Cole said. "It's notice."
The Enforcer turned and walked away. Each step carried authority with it, like the ground remembered who he worked for.
The House waited until he was gone.
Then—
HOUSE OF RECKONING // STATUS UPDATESUBJECT: COLE MARROWROLE: ACTIVE VARIABLERISK: ELEVATED
Cole laughed once. Short.
"Yeah," he said. "I know."
Dusty leaned into his leg, harder now. The dog's eyes stayed fixed on the path the Enforcer had taken, ears pinned, body coiled.
"Easy," Cole murmured. "We're not done yet."
The town worked around them. People moving. Surviving. Pretending not to look at him while knowing exactly where he stood.
Cole looked at the table one last time.
Scarred.
Quiet.
Owned by nobody who mattered.
He turned east, where the night thinned toward something like dawn.
"Alright," he said softly. "I'll stay."
Behind him, Rustline breathed.
Ahead of him, a King adjusted his ledgers.
And somewhere in between, the House counted how much more Cole Marrow could lose before he stopped being useful.