「Status Update」
Location: Castle York (House Norwen)
Threat Level: Low
Active Hellschisms: 0
Order Presence: Limited
Available Resources: Scarce
Current Mission: Monitor Emerging Threats
The late afternoon sun cast the courtyard in rust-red light, making every worn beam and bent nail appear sharper. Orien Majere stood near a corner of the inner yard, reviewing notes scrawled on parchment. He'd jotted possible rune variations, supply tallies, and a rough timeline of when Chigan's scouts might return with fresh warnings.
Not far away, Eldric rinsed brushes in a bucket of murky water. The squire hummed softly under his breath, shoulders no longer hunched. A few steps beyond him, Meraine's envoys practiced painting runes on scrap bars propped against a stone bench. Bren grunted with effort as he tried a more delicate symbol, while Jallis commented on his shaky lines. Hest, the scribe, hovered at their side, offering suggestions.
Corene paced near the eastern gate, eyes drifting often toward the horizon. She had ordered a slight increase in watches at dusk, not because of any immediate threat, but because caution had become their friend. Each small measure that prevented disaster was worth ten times the effort.
Alden approached Orien, his armor joints clicking faintly. He held a folded cloth in one hand. "One of our scouts returned. No rifts, but he claims to have heard strange chanting from an abandoned watchtower south of here. Could be brigands, or worse." He lowered his voice. "Should we do anything about it?"
Orien considered. "A watchtower with chanting… If it's brigands, they might be plotting raids. If it's cultists, they might try summoning minor horrors. Either way, better to send a small patrol to investigate before it grows into a real threat."
Alden nodded. "I thought you'd say that. We have two volunteers. I can spare one more guard. It won't leave us bare here, but we must be careful."
"Take Eldric," Orien said, surprising himself. "He's eager, and a small scouting party might help him grow into his courage. Let him see the world beyond these walls before it erupts. Just keep him safe."
Alden arched an eyebrow. "You trust him that much already?"
"He learns quickly," Orien said. "He's not a coward, just young. Exposure to a controlled mission might help him become a steadier hand."
Alden grunted. "I'll consider it." He tapped the folded cloth in his hand. "Also, Meraine asked if we had any old maps for her scribe. They want to mark potential relay points for their warning system."
Orien looked across the courtyard, where Meraine spoke quietly with Corene. "We can share partial maps. No need to reveal every detail of our territory, but enough to help them coordinate scouts."
Alden nodded. "I'll have a scribe prepare copies."
As he left, Orien tucked his parchment away and stepped over to Eldric, who sloshed brushes in water. "Eldric," he said. "How's the paint coming?"
The squire smiled, shaking excess water from a brush. "We're reusing old bristles and it's a struggle, but I'm getting better. The Chigan smiths keep trying different strokes. We've almost got a uniform pattern now."
"Good," Orien said. "There's talk of a small patrol heading south to check on strange activity. Are you interested?"
Eldric's eyes widened. "Me? On a patrol?" He glanced at the brushes and paint, uncertain. "But I'm no seasoned fighter."
"You don't have to fight unless forced," Orien reassured him. "Your eyes and ears can help. So can your knowledge of these runes. If the patrol finds a weak structure, you could reinforce it. Or if something needs a quick escape route, a strengthened chain or beam might help." He lowered his voice. "We need people who can think as well as swing blades."
Eldric swallowed, then nodded slowly. "If Alden allows it, I'll go."
Orien patted his shoulder. "Good. Stay alert out there. You've done well inside these walls—now see what our world really faces."
Eldric's smile held equal parts excitement and worry. "I won't let you down."
Across the courtyard, Meraine signaled Orien with a raised hand. He approached her, the rust-hued light painting half her face in deep shadow.
"We're leaving tomorrow morning," Meraine said. "Your lessons have been fruitful. We'll attempt the runes on our home structures. Our scribes and smiths are confident enough to try on their own."
Orien nodded. "Safe travels. Remember the resin ratios we discussed. Too much, and the paint stiffens. Too little, and it doesn't hold mana well."
Hest stepped forward, tapping his parchment. "We've recorded every hint. We'll refine the technique until we can teach others. If this works, House Angell might adopt it next, and maybe even Boswyn. Soon, multiple Houses will share a web of runes and warnings."
Corene joined them, arms folded. "Your scouts will still come with news, yes?"
Meraine gave a small bow of her head. "Of course. If trouble forms in the west, we'll alert you. That was our bargain."
Orien caught the glint of resolve in Meraine's eyes. She meant her words. Chigan had learned enough to see the value of cooperation. He remembered how mistrust had once choked alliances before they could form. Now, that old pattern frayed at the edges, replaced by cautious partnership.
He looked up at the inner walkway, where a pair of Norwen guards tested their horns. Soft notes drifted down, reassuring signals that they had tools to call for help now. A stablehand led a pair of horses along the outer yard, checking straps. The quiet industry of preparation surrounded them, each person contributing in small ways.
As dusk neared, Meraine and her team retired to a corner of the courtyard to pack their notes and brushes. Tomorrow, they'd depart with the sunrise, carrying knowledge that might shape distant defenses.
Corene leaned closer to Orien. "It's working. We're not just patching our own walls—we're influencing the world beyond these stones."
Orien shrugged. "We had to. A single haven can't survive alone. If Chigan and Norwen share techniques, others might follow, and we build a chain of defenses. Demons thrive on isolation and weakness. We'll give them neither."
Corene's lips curled into a rare smile. "If someone told me a week ago that we'd be teaching House Chigan runes in our courtyard, I would have laughed. Yet here we are."
Alden returned, holding a leather folder. "Copies of our eastern maps," he said, handing it to Meraine. "I've marked known trails and safe wells. Use them to position your scouts. Just remember these are rough sketches. Terrain might have shifted since the Fall."
Meraine accepted the folder carefully. "We'll treat them as guides, not gospel. Thank you."
They exchanged nods. Over by the old forge setup, Eldric put away the last of the brushes, the water in his bucket dyed a faint gray. Jallis tested the tension in a piece of scrap they'd just runed, tapping it thoughtfully. Bren rolled his shoulders and mumbled something about forging better brushes back home.
Hest closed his inkpot and bowed slightly to Orien and Corene. "We owe you gratitude. You've given us tools we never dreamed of. May these runes hold when darkness comes knocking."
Orien reached out, resting a hand lightly on the scribe's forearm. "Just remember: runes buy you time, not invincibility. Use that time wisely. Call for help if it's too much to handle alone."
Hest nodded, solemn. "We will."
A hush fell as the sun dipped lower, painting the courtyard in bronze and purple. Meraine's group withdrew to an assigned room for the night, leaving Norwen's people to reflect on what had passed.
Corene watched them go, then said quietly to Orien, "You're changing the fate of these lands, one conversation at a time."
Orien stared at the gate chains, now reinforced and runed, and thought of the horrors he had seen in another life. "If I do nothing, we fall. If I help, maybe we stand. I won't pretend to know the future, but I know we're better prepared than yesterday."
Alden nodded, arms crossed, his gaze on the darkening sky. "We'll keep our eyes open for that chanting at the watchtower. If it's nothing, we'll learn that too. If it's something worse, we'll be ready."
Orien exhaled, the evening air cooler now. There was a quiet rhythm to this new world they were building: teach, learn, scout, warn. Each step woven into a subtle pattern of resistance.
He moved toward the storeroom corridor, Eldric trailing behind to return the brushes. Behind him, Corene and Alden discussed which guards to send south. Above, the horns waited for a signal that might never come, or might come too soon. But for now, a fragile calm held them together, each prepared to do their part when tested.