---
Dickoff Iron did not report anything to Mihos.
He should have.
He knew that.
He knew it while running.
He knew it while pushing past his own terrified servants.
He knew it while shouting for the inner gates to close.
He knew it while descending into the lower private levels of his mansion with blood on his clothes and smoke still in his lungs.
Still, he did not report.
Fear had already entered too deep for duty to matter.
The Iron House mansion stood above ground with all the old signs of wealth still clinging to it. Thick walls. Ironwork balconies. Dark red banners. Stone beasts carved into the corners. Wide receiving halls. Guard posts. Locked rooms. Hidden ledgers. It still looked like a powerful house if someone only saw it from the street.
That was the insult.
Because inside, Dickoff knew the truth.
The house above was still standing.
Everything under it had been cut away.
