The night dragged on without sleep. Arden and his party stayed sharp, watching from the windows of their inn and taking turns patrolling nearby alleys.
Greyhold itself was restless, double guards walked the streets, their armor clinking under torchlight. Elemental users, hired from the outlands with heavy coin, moved in small units, faces tense. People whispered from shuttered windows, waiting for a strike that never came.
By dawn, Arden's frown had already settled. "It's too quiet," he muttered as they gathered around a table in the inn's backroom. "They want us tense. Distracted."
Nyra leaned forward. "Then we don't wait for them. We move."
Rael stretched, cracking his knuckles. "About time. I was starting to think the Creed ran dry."
Zephyra gave a low growl that rumbled in her chest, smoke curling faintly from her jaws. Arden placed a hand on her flank, steady but firm. "We do it clean. As a small group, covering ground. No fuss."
