Candle smoke hung over the Flint war room while the Patriarch's fingers beat a slow rhythm against the regional map.
"The Crown handed that brat a title one full week ago," he said while one nail stopped above the Sixth Region.
"He entered the territory only this afternoon, then executed our allied lords before the sun set."
His commanders exchanged glances along the long table while the corrected timeline sharpened the threat in every mind.
Hajin had not survived a week inside the region, nor built anything, nor endured seven days beneath its apex guardian.
Paperwork plus travel had consumed the days between the royal decree and the boy's first real step across the border.
"Tell me the hour when our army finally moves," the Patriarch demanded as both hands pressed against the table.
"Other Houses will claim the border if we waste the opening created by his arrival."
House Flint had pursued the unowned territory for years without ever accepting its true cost.
