The sky of Gravemire looked ordinary. But Reed knew something had changed.
Not in the walls.
Not in the barracks.
But in the faces that stared at him as he walked through the town's main streets.
Faces that had once bowed respectfully… now stared at him with questions.
Not outright doubt. But doubt that grew like mushrooms in dark corners.
In the people's hall, two young goblins debated the food distribution system.
"We can reorganize it ourselves," one of them said. "No need to wait for orders from the center."
In the civilian training center, four students walked out of the session, rejecting the standard battle formation.
They said: "We have our own way. More efficient."
Rina read these small reports. Individual. Not directly connected. But all moving in one pattern:
to break away from the structure of Gravemire.
She handed them to Reed in silence.
Reed read each one.
Then stood up.
That afternoon Reed walked alone to the workshop district
