The courier found Julius before sunrise.
He stood on the high platform overlooking the southern ridge, watching smoke still curl from the last of the pyres in the valley below.
His armor was half-clasped, his cloak loose against the wind.
He hadn't slept — not since the final report from Gallius had arrived the night before.
The courier didn't speak.
Just approached, bowed low, and held out the black-sealed scroll.
Julius took it without looking, cracked the wax with a thumb, and unrolled the parchment.
His eyes flicked down the Root's encoded ledger — a mix of ciphered prose, cold intelligence, and shaded glyphs that told more than any spoken report ever could.
Prisoners broken.
Courier chains confirmed.
Reserve legions identified.
High Thandor compromised.
La Morienne vulnerable.
Amaury—isolated.
And then, at the bottom — a new mark he hadn't seen before.
A simple circle.
Bisected.
Lined.
One line beneath it.
Saint Joan:
emerging influence.
