Newborn Town, the Lord's Manor.
The reception room had been temporarily converted into Caroline's office. Files lay piled like mountains on the desk, and the tip of her quill hovered in midair, ink gathering into a bead that was about to fall.
But Caroline wasn't looking at the files. Again and again, her gaze drifted uncontrollably toward the little badge at the corner of the desk.
It was a badge cast from black iron, engraved with a name in ornate script-Veylin.
It represented the highest authority in Newborn Town.
The night before he left, Veylin had sought her out and placed the badge, still warm from his body, in her palm.
"Miss Channing, the movements of the crocodile packs in Graysea Marsh are difficult to predict. This is only a precaution... If, and I do mean if, the crocodiles reach Newborn Town before my party does, please make sure you use it to lead the Garrison in preparing our defenses..."
If.
Such a simple word, yet such a heavy one.
He hadn't even offered much explanation, as though he were merely arranging the most ordinary of tasks.
Yet now, that badge burned against Caroline's heart, its weight almost suffocating her.
How dared he? How dared he place his entire livelihood and his life, along with this town's future, into her hands so casually?
Her wealth could have bought countless little towns like this one long ago, but this kind of trust... she had rarely experienced it.
The weight of that trust suffocated her, yet it carried a searing warmth she couldn't resist.
By now, what Caroline feared was no longer those damned crocodiles...
Knock, knock.
Freeman, a Senior Steward of the guild, stood in the doorway with a fresh batch of documents awaiting approval in his arms, confusion in his