The mended yoke became a quiet legend. It was not the subject of songs or announcements, but a footnote in the daily rhythm of the city. People would nod to it as Lew passed by, a brief acknowledgment of a problem solved, a flow restored. For Finnian, it was more than a repaired tool; it was a cipher he had successfully decoded. He had applied his analytical mind not to break, but to bind. The satisfaction was profound and strangely humble.