Some days later.
"That's the third wave. They've finished their assessments."
Leon sat inside the courtyard and smiled to himself.
,,,,,,,,,,,,,
The gangs controlling the eastern wing of Davos were more organized than a single glance suggested.
They hadn't come in blind on the first night, hadn't sent anyone over the wall with a knife and an optimistic attitude. What they had done instead was more measured, a slow read of the situation, each step designed to answer a specific question before committing to the next one.
The first move came in the morning after arrival.
A beggar at the front gate. Disheveled, harmless looking, the kind of person you wave away without thinking. His hands were gone before he finished his approach, a sword moving faster than the eye bothered to track, and the screaming that followed him down the street carried further than anyone planned.
Word traveled fast in Davos.
