The sky above the village was overcast when the Baron arrived.
Five riders thundered down the mud-packed road, cloaked in the red and gold of House Velbrant. At their center rode Baron Erhard Velbrant himself, a thick-set man of middle years with a hawk's nose and sharp, impatient eyes. His armor gleamed under a velvet tabard, more ceremonial than practical, but the sword at his side had clearly seen use.
Villagers froze where they stood. Children were pulled indoors. The clanking of hooves and the flash of noble steel had not visited this place in years — not since the last tax enforcement raid.
Emil watched from beside the blacksmith's forge, fingers curled under his coat, where his flintlock waited. But he didn't move. He couldn't afford to.
"Village head!" the Baron barked, dismounting. "I demand an explanation."
Old Garreth, the village chief, stepped forward, hands folded with care. "Your lordship," he said with a deep bow, "we were not informed of your visit. What brings you to—"
"I sent a scout here last week," the Baron cut in sharply. "An enforcer. Loyal to the crown. He failed to return."
Gasps echoed through the villagers, genuine and rehearsed alike. Emil kept his face still.
"I expect answers," the Baron continued. "And I expect them now."
The Interrogation
In the chief's house, Emil stood behind Garreth as the Baron and two of his knights seated themselves like wolves in a sheepfold.
"He was here," Garreth admitted carefully. "But he was… aggressive. Threatening."
"I gave no orders for execution," the Baron snapped.
"No one touched him," Emil said finally. Calmly. "He left the next morning. Alone. Angry. Maybe he met bandits. Or a monster."
Baron Velbrant's eyes narrowed at Emil. "And you are?"
"A teacher. A smith. I came from the east."
"Strange accent for an easterner."
"I've traveled."
A pause.
Then: "And what exactly do you teach?"
Emil smiled faintly. "Reading. Writing. Arithmetic."
"…To peasants?"
"To people," Emil said. Quietly, but firmly.
The Baron said nothing. But his gaze held suspicion like a drawn sword.
Outside the House
The questioning dragged for hours. Emil remained silent for most of it, letting Garreth play the humble host. When they finally exited, the village was still, eyes on the baron's every move.
"I will leave two knights behind," Velbrant declared, loud enough for all to hear. "To ensure the safety of the realm. And to look into this enforcer's disappearance further."
Emil's heart sank.
Knights meant attention. Scrutiny. Risk.
Worse — the Baron didn't believe them.
That Night
In the workshop, under flickering lantern light, Emil met with his inner circle.
"We can't move the muskets," Doren said. "Too risky with knights around."
"And if they search the buildings?" asked Hale, recently returned from Denholde. "They'll find papers. Tools."
"They won't," Emil said. "We move the weapons to the forest cache. The documents go to Liene in Ersendale. Until the knights leave, we act like scared peasants."
Falk leaned on the workbench. "And if they don't leave?"
Emil looked up from the map. His eyes were dark.
"Then we show them what the future of this land looks like. And it doesn't wear a gold-trimmed cloak."
In the silence of the night, the two knights stood watch near the chapel.
From the shadows, a child passed behind a shed — slipping a note into a crevice of stone. Moments later, the message was taken.
They're watching. Stay hidden. Cache moved.
The Union was no longer just Emil's idea.
It was alive.