Rohan set to the work with the same steady, methodical patience he'd once applied to Veyrhold's endless maintenance needs, and found, somewhat to his own surprise, a genuine comfort in the rhythm of it — the honest, uncomplicated satisfaction of fixing something broken with his own two hands, of watching a day's labour translate directly into visible, measurable progress.
There was a particular kind of peace in it that combat never offered, and even the anchor point search itself rarely allowed him — no urgency, no danger, no calculation about what might go wrong if he moved a half-second too slowly. Just dust, and worn components, and the quiet satisfaction of a sorting array humming back to life beneath his hands after hours of patient, careful attention. He understood, working through those long, undramatic days, a small piece of what had kept Veyrhold's people going through years of hardship that would have broken settlements with less stubborn pride in their own competence.
