Kael did not linger near the checkpoint.
Settlements controlled by houses had a way of tightening around outsiders the longer they stayed. Questions multiplied. Records appeared. Someone always decided to take interest.
He moved through the central road at an unhurried pace, eyes forward, presence muted. The structures around him were functional rather than decorative—storage halls, trade depots, reinforced inns. This wasn't a place meant for comfort. It was meant to move resources.
And resources needed protection.
He passed beneath another banner, this one bearing the wave-marked crest. Merchants clustered nearby, voices low, transactions quick. The house's influence was subtle but pervasive, woven into the settlement's rhythm.
Kael felt the faint tug again.
Stronger this time.
He stopped.
Not abruptly—just enough to blend into the flow of foot traffic. The sensation wasn't directional. It wasn't pulling him toward a location.
It was reacting.
Kael closed his eyes briefly and adjusted his breathing. The pressure in his chest eased, the hum settling into something manageable. Whatever had been left behind near the ruins hadn't followed him—but it hadn't let go either.
A line had been crossed.
He opened his eyes and continued.
Near the edge of the settlement, where the buildings thinned and the guards grew fewer, raised voices cut through the ambient noise.
"…this isn't your territory."
Kael turned slightly.
A narrow side street opened into a small square. Three figures stood near a supply cart: two bearing the sunburst crest, one dressed plainly, his hands raised in a placating gesture.
"You're blocking sanctioned movement," one of the crested men said. His tone was calm, rehearsed. "Step aside."
"I already explained," the unmarked man replied, voice tight. "The route ahead collapsed last night. We're redirecting until—"
The second sunburst bearer stepped forward.
Kael felt it before it happened.
The air tightened. Pressure gathered around the unmarked man, compressing his space, forcing his breath short. Not enough to kill. Enough to remind.
The man staggered.
Kael stopped walking.
This wasn't violence.
This was correction.
The kind houses favored when reminding people who set the rules.
The unmarked man gasped, knees buckling. The sunburst bearer lowered his hand slightly, easing the pressure just enough to keep him conscious.
"Say it again," he said.
Kael's gaze sharpened.
Lines weren't supposed to blur like this. House authority had limits—unwritten ones, but real. Using pressure openly inside a settlement invited scrutiny. Witnesses.
Unless the house believed no one present mattered.
Kael exhaled slowly.
He could intervene.
It would be simple. A shift in pressure, a disruption of balance. The technique came to him naturally, like adjusting weight before a step.
But intervention drew attention.
And attention drew records.
The unmarked man tried to speak again, failed, then shook his head in defeat.
"I'll move it," he whispered.
The pressure vanished.
The sunburst bearer stepped back, satisfied.
Kael turned away.
Not because he didn't care.
Because this wasn't the moment.
He walked on, the faint hum in his chest resonating once, sharply—almost in disapproval.
"Not yet," Kael murmured under his breath.
As he left the square behind, he felt eyes on him. Not hostile. Not curious.
Evaluating.
Somewhere in this settlement, someone had noticed the momentary shift in the air. The almost-intervention that never quite happened.
Kael kept moving.
The houses were watching now.
And sooner or later, watching would turn into testing.