Ennett stood beside the outer walls of the town, her arms folded as she studied the long stretch of weathered timber. The boards rose just high enough to give the illusion of safety but not enough to stop anyone determined to climb them. She watched the wood grain catch the dim evening light and ran through the same mental steps she had followed in every town she visited. She checked where patrols tended to walk, which corners stayed shadowed too long, and which seams in the structure had widened from heat or rain. These habits had become part of her long before she realized they had taken root.

  She shifted her weight and traced a weak spot with her eyes. The planks at this angle leaned inward, almost as if years of wind and rain had pressed their shoulders against them. She imagined the force of a heavy body pushing from the other side. The wood might crack with hardly any resistance. The watchmen here were not trained for that. They were constables first, guards second, and warriors somewhere far down the line.

  That thought annoyed her, but she also understood it. Every town had limits. It was not fair to blame them for working with what they had.

  She let her gaze drift down the inside of the wall. Vendors had just started packing their stalls. Lanterns flickered above doorframes. A woman carrying baskets hurried toward home, and children chased each other between stone planters, laughing until their footsteps faded into the distance. Normal town life, she thought. The kind she used to be accustomed to.

  A year ago, she had left Harbinth broken in both body and mind. The rebuilding after the attack had dragged on through bitter months. The quiet moments, the ones that should have brought comfort, only reminded her of the voices she could not save. When she could no longer hold a sword steady or trust her knees to carry her into a fight, she had taken a clerk’s role with the city watch. The desk job had felt strange at first. It was mostly writing patrol reports, approving repairs and supplies, and organizing shifts. But she told herself it was what she needed. Something steady. Something still.

  She thought back on those early days of paperwork. Her hands shaking at first, then settling. Her mind feeling dull, then grateful for the routine. It had helped her recover piece by piece.

  But now, standing here by these wooden walls, she felt the itch again. A slow, familiar restlessness under her skin. It was the feeling that she did not belong behind a desk for much longer.

  She sighed and ran her hand along the top of the nearest plank.

  A voice spoke from beside her.

  “I know a watchman when I see one.”

  She pulled her hand back from the wall on instinct, turning toward the speaker with her fingers brushing the hilt of her sword. The grip tightened before she recognized the tone and eased her hand away.

  A man in plain leather armor stood at her side. His shoulders were broad, and his beard was streaked with gray. His posture was relaxed, though his eyes remained alert.

  He nodded toward the wall. “Posture gives it away. That, and the look on your face.” He pointed loosely toward the rampart. “You were judging how fast these boards would fail if someone pushed hard enough.”

  Ennett let out a low sound that might have been a laugh. “You are not wrong.”

  He nodded again. “I have wanted to reinforce those boards since before the last harvest, but the watch is short on hands and coin. Most of our work is catching drunk farmers or breaking up a scuffle on market day. We do not expect armies. But if three ogres wandered this way, these walls would be nothing more than kindling.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Ennett studied him more carefully now. The lines on his face were deep. His hands, though calloused, shook slightly when he rested them at his sides. He was older than she first thought, but still strong. A man who had seen trouble come and go. A man who had stayed.

  “At least you are honest about your weaknesses,” she said.

  “That is the only way to fix them,” he replied.

  They stood together for a long moment, their eyes tracing the rampart from one end to the other.

  “How many years before you take your pension?” Ennett asked, partly to lighten the air, partly out of curiosity.

  He barked a laugh. “My pension? If the governor pays for a grave marker when I die, I will count myself lucky. No, there will be no retirement for me. I will work this post until I can no longer climb the ladder to the watchtower. After that, we will see if I can earn bread with whatever strength is left.”

  “Then why stay?” Ennett asked. “Why not leave for somewhere easier?”

  He shifted his gaze toward the fields beyond the town. “I love this place. It is where I was born. Where my parents lived and died. Where my daughters learned to walk. Every corner of this town feels like part of my own bones.” He paused, then added quietly, “Protecting people gives me purpose. It keeps me going. I want my family to live here so long that one day they forget I was ever part of it. That would mean I kept it safe long enough for them to stop worrying.”

  Ennett felt the words settle heavily inside her. For a moment she thought of her childhood. She thought of the guild hall where she trained and of Guildmaster Eborin, who had shaped her into a fighter even when she doubted herself. She thought of her father, and the pieces of him she tried not to examine too closely. She wondered how long someone’s legacy truly lasted. She wondered if it mattered at all.

  “Do you ever feel,” she asked slowly, “that you cannot protect the people you care about, even when you want to?”

  The man let out a long breath. “Every day.”

  They both looked back toward the wall.

  “What would you do first?” he asked suddenly. “If this were your post.”

  Ennett considered the question. “I would assign more men to the northern gate. That corner stays dark too long at night. I would cut back the growth near the east wall. Too much cover there. And I would repair these planks before the weather weakens them further.”

  He nodded. “I argued for those exact changes at the last council meeting.”

  “Did they listen?” Ennett asked.

  “Somewhat,” he replied with a shrug. “Politics moves slowly. Sometimes slower than wood rots.”

  Ennett smiled faintly. “Sounds familiar.”

  They continued to talk as the sun lowered behind the rooftops. The conversation drifted from heavy subjects to practical advice, then back again. They debated patrol routes and best practices for watching the roads. They spoke about brigands who preyed on travelers just before winter. They shared thoughts on how to hold a line in narrow streets where the buildings leaned too close together.

  What surprised Ennett most was the comfort she felt. She had not talked shop like this in a long time. The words came naturally, rising from a place inside her that had been silent during her months behind a desk.

  Eventually the man clapped her shoulder lightly. “You have the look of someone who knows her way around a fight. If you ever want work here, we would be glad to have you.”

  Ennett shook her head. “I appreciate the offer. But my place is with my own people. And my warband.”

  “They are lucky to have you,” he said.

  She watched him walk back toward the guardhouse, his silhouette shrinking against the dim light of the town’s torches.

  She remained by the wall a little longer, feeling the rough grain beneath her palm. The itch under her skin grew stronger. She had rested long enough. The world was changing faster than anyone admitted. Trouble was stirring in the mountains. Dark forces were gathering in the south. And on some level, she knew she would not be content until she was back at the front with a blade in her hand.

  “I am ready,” she whispered to herself.

  It was not a boast. It was a truth that had taken her a year to reclaim.

  She stepped away from the wall and walked toward the inn where the warband waited. The night air was cool, the torches dim, but she felt a sense of direction again.

  Next time danger came, she would be prepared.

  And she would meet it face to face.