The letter arrived before the third payout.
It bore the seal of Korvossa.
Not the Baron's crest — the steward's mark. Clean wax. Measured pressure. No smudging.
Bradley turned it over once before breaking it.
In frontier towns, speed meant alarm.
Precision meant scrutiny.
He preferred to know which.
He opened it slowly.
House Tatume is reminded that the right to raise auxiliary forces rests under baronial oversight. Clarification is requested regarding recent "contract activities" within Old Dornelis. Written response required within seven days.
No accusation.
No approval.
Clarification.
Suspicion written politely.
Bradley folded the letter once and set it on the tavern table.
Across from him, Deorwine watched without speaking.
"That is not an endorsement," the archer said at last.
"No."
"And not prohibition."
"No."
Deorwine leaned back.
"So we exist in uncertainty."
"For now."
Ambiguity was worse than reprimand.
Reprimand defined boundary.
Ambiguity invited misstep.
Captain Hadrik arrived before noon.
He did not remove his gloves.
"You received correspondence."
"Yes."
"You intend to answer?"
"Yes."
"With what?"
"Structure."
Hadrik's gaze sharpened.
"You assume structure protects you."
"I assume documentation narrows the accusation."
Bradley opened the ledger.
Seven active contractors.
Five confirmed goblin kills.
One minor injury.
Payouts recorded publicly.
Administrative retention logged.
Material salvage catalogued separately.
Hadrik scanned the figures.
"You have reduced patrol fatigue," he admitted.
"Yes."
"You have also demonstrated initiative."
"Yes."
"That word is expensive."
Bradley inclined his head slightly.
"Which is why we emphasize obedience."
Hadrik folded his arms.
"You will present this as auxiliary reinforcement under guard oversight."
"Yes."
"And not an independent force."
"Correct."
A faint exhale left the captain.
"You balance on thin ground."
"Thin ground is preferable to crumbling."
Hadrik almost smiled.
Almost.
The merchant association responded faster than the Baron.
Herrik Vane entered with two assistants and a ledger of his own.
"You have five iron blades," he said without greeting.
"Yes."
"You intend to resell it."
"Yes."
"To whom?"
"Preferably to you."
Vane adjusted his cuffs.
"Preferably."
Bradley held his gaze calmly.
"External sale invites questions. Regulated sale shares oversight."
Silence.
Vane understood risk distribution.
"Market value is five silver per blade."
"Low."
"Crude iron."
"Still forged."
Vane studied him longer.
"You request more."
"I request alignment."
The merchant calculated quickly.
Stabilized routes meant stable caravans.
Stable caravans meant predictable margins.
"Six," Vane said.
"Five and a half recorded," Bradley replied. "Half retained for contingency."
"Whose contingency?"
"Ours."
Vane blinked once.
Then nodded.
"Accepted."
Economic pressure eased — marginally.
Marginal improvements compounded.
Escalation did not wait for paperwork.
It arrived at dusk.
A farmhand stumbled through the gate bleeding from the shoulder.
"Orc," he gasped.
The courtyard shifted immediately.
Hadrik's hand went to his sword.
"Where?"
"Western treeline. Alone."
Alone meant nothing.
Orcs did not test fences.
They broke them.
Ulric arrived faster than usual, limp and forgotten.
"If alone," he muttered, "it scouts."
"Or hunts," Maelor countered quietly.
Bradley felt the calculation pivot.
Orc presence implied hierarchy above goblins.
Or command.
Or migration.
None contained problems.
Hadrik turned to him.
"You proposed proportional escalation."
"Yes."
"Is this proportional?"
Bradley met his gaze.
"No."
Silence.
"Which means," Bradley continued, "we do not send auxiliary alone."
Hadrik nodded once.
"Agreed."
Deorwine stepped forward.
"You will not remain behind."
"I will not."
Ulric snorted.
"Then we move together."
Maelor wiped his blade slowly.
"Orc bounty?"
Bradley answered without pause.
"One gold."
The courtyard stilled.
Halric blinked.
"One gold?"
"Yes."
"From where?"
"Reserve."
Hadrik's eyes narrowed.
"You commit House funds."
"Yes."
"You did not consult your father."
"No."
Ulric let out a short breath.
"That is bold."
Bradley shook his head slightly.
"It is weighted."
Underpay, no one stands.
Overpay, treasury burns.
One gold matched risk.
Halric spoke first.
"I stand."
Ulric nodded.
Maelor followed.
Deorwine tightened his bowstring.
Hadrik exhaled once.
"Then we move before dark."
The western treeline felt different.
Heavier.
Tracks sank deeper into damp soil.
Large.
Intentional.
Maelor crouched.
"Alone," he murmured.
"Confident," Ulric added.
Hadrik signaled spacing.
Bradley positioned slightly behind the captain.
Not leading.
Not shielding.
Supporting.
The orc stepped from behind a fallen oak.
Taller than the farmhand described.
Broad shoulders.
Crude iron axe resting along its forearm.
It did not roar.
It observed.
Bradley felt the weight of its gaze.
Assessment.
Again.
Hadrik advanced one step.
The orc did not retreat.
Ulric angled left.
Maelor shifted right.
Deorwine raised his bow.
Bradley kept his blade lowered.
The orc moved first.
Charge.
Impact against Hadrik's shield thundered through the trees.
Ulric struck low.
Maelor flanked.
An arrow embedded in the orc's shoulder.
It did not falter.
The axe swung wide.
Ulric's injured knee nearly caught the arc.
Bradley moved.
Not to strike.
To reinforce.
He drove his shoulder into Ulric's flank, stabilizing his balance as the axe cut air inches from bone.
Pain shot through Bradley's arm from the impact.
Hadrik seized the opening.
Steel is a bit deep.
Maelor followed.
The orc staggered.
Roared once.
Collapsed.
Silence followed abruptly.
Breathing heavy.
Ulric wiped blood from his cheek.
"Late reinforcement," he muttered.
"Yes," Bradley replied.
"But reinforcement."
"Yes."
Halric stared at the fallen body.
"That was not scouting."
Bradley studied the axe.
The iron was heavier than goblin blades.
Better shaped.
"Not scouting," he agreed.
"Testing strength."
Hadrik glanced sideways.
"And?"
Bradley answered calmly.
"They have measured us."
Maelor's eyes remained on the treeline.
"And found?"
Bradley did not answer immediately.
He looked at Ulric's knee.
At Deorwine's remaining arrows.
At Hadrik's dented shield.
"We held."
Not dominance.
Not superiority.
Held.
Hauling the orc back strained them more than the fight.
The weight was real.
So was fatigue.
By the time they reached the gate, dusk had deepened.
Farmers gathered again.
Whispers sharpened.
Orc.
The word carried differently.
Bradley ordered the body displayed briefly — then removed before night.
Spectacle risked panic.
Payment was issued publicly.
One gold.
Halric stared at the coin longer than necessary.
"You commit heavily."
"Yes."
"And if another appears tomorrow?"
"Then we reassess."
Ulric studied him carefully.
"You burn reserves quickly."
"Yes."
Maelor wiped his blade clean.
"And if this was not alone?"
Bradley looked beyond the wall.
"Then tonight was the measurement."
Oswald entered the tavern after dark.
"I hear you committed one gold."
"Yes."
"You move before permission."
"Yes."
"The steward's letter arrived."
"Yes."
Oswald stepped closer.
"If Korvossa believes this resembles militia expansion—"
"It does not."
"They may not differentiate."
Bradley opened the ledger.
Seven contractors.
Six goblin kills.
One orc.
Capital reduced.
Material salvage likely triple payout.
Merchant alignment secured — temporarily.
"We respond with documentation," Bradley said evenly.
"And if documentation is ignored?"
"Then clarity replaces ambiguity."
Oswald studied him.
"You wager that structure shields you."
"I wager that chaos invites intervention faster."
A pause.
"You are certain the orc was alone?"
"No."
Silence tightened.
Oswald exhaled slowly.
"Try not to destabilize the county."
"I prefer stability."
When his brother left, the tavern fell quiet.
Bradley extinguished the lantern and stepped outside.
Wind carried from the west now.
Different from the east.
The orc's axe rested inside the tavern.
Heavier iron.
Better forged.
Not scavenged.
Which meant supply.
Which meant system.
The threshold had moved.
Goblins tested coordination.
Orc tested force.
Baron tested legitimacy.
Merchant tested leverage.
Reserve tested sustainability.
Pressure layered.
And they had answered proportionally.
For now.
Bradley looked toward the dark line of forest beyond the western fields.
If tonight was strength testing—
The next phase would not send one.
And when multiple arrive—
Gold would not be enough.
They would require something the steward's letter hinted at but did not grant.
Recognition.
Or confrontation.
The wind shifted again.
And this time—
It carried more than one set of footsteps beyond the trees.