Kael left the settlement's inner road and followed a narrower path that curved toward the outer training grounds. The noise faded gradually—voices thinning, footsteps spacing out—until only the muted sounds of exertion remained.
Steel on steel. Controlled breathing. Footwork scraping dirt.
He stopped at the edge of the yard.
Several pairs were sparring within a wide, fenced space marked by worn stone posts. No banners hung here, but the influence of the houses lingered all the same. Techniques were precise. Movements restrained. This wasn't practice meant to teach beginners.
It was meant to refine.
Kael's attention fixed on one pair near the center.
The pressure there was unmistakable.
One fighter applied it carefully, threading it through each exchange—never enough to break posture outright, always enough to disrupt balance at the worst moment. The other adapted, adjusted, endured.
Testing limits.
Kael watched in silence.
This was how the houses shaped their assets. Not through brute force, but through controlled stress. Pressure until something either hardened… or cracked.
A step sounded behind him.
"You're not wrong to be cautious."
Kael turned.
The man who approached was older, his posture relaxed but deliberate. He wore no visible crest, yet the faint shimmer of authority clung to him like a second skin.
"Observation without interference," the man continued. "It's a skill most forget."
"I wasn't here to interfere," Kael said.
"No," the man agreed. "But you were considering it."
Kael didn't deny it.
The man smiled faintly. "That makes you honest."
He gestured toward the yard. "These tests aren't about winning. They're about response. Pressure reveals more than power ever does."
"Pressure breaks people," Kael said.
"Sometimes," the man replied. "Sometimes it defines them."
The hum in Kael's chest stirred again—not sharp this time, but attentive.
"Whatever you are," the man said quietly, "you're outside their framework."
Kael met his gaze. "Frameworks exist to be convenient."
"And inconvenient things?" the man asked.
"Get corrected," Kael replied.
The man laughed softly. "You've seen enough already."
He stepped aside, leaving the path open.
Kael walked past him without another word.
Behind him, the sparring pair resumed their exchange. The pressure sharpened briefly, then eased—adjusted.
Someone had learned something.
As Kael moved farther from the yard, the resonance within him settled into a steady rhythm. Not calling. Not warning.
Aligning.
Whatever had begun at the river wasn't finished. It was taking form.
And pressure, once it found shape, was rarely content to remain unseen.