Garrick pushed back from the table as Harold stood, rolling his shoulders in anticipation of another climb. The aides in the other room looked as harried as everyone else. Together, they moved to the stairwell, the council room's noise fading as they climbed.

  “You look like you slept somewhere uncomfortable,” Garrick said lightly as they climbed.

  Harold huffed. “I slept fine. My body just disagrees. I’m not used to physical activity like that.”

  "Nothing easy is worth doing. Training your body is worth it," Garrick replied.

  Harold grunted as he climbed, jaw clenched, each step pounding out his silent anger as he refused to dignify it with a response.

  They reached the second floor and turned down the corridor to Harold’s new office suite. Two guards stood outside, straight-backed and alert, stepping aside as Harold approached.

  Carter was already there, leaning against the wall with arms crossed and helm tucked under one arm. He looked up and grinned.

  “About time,” Carter said. “I was starting to think you went native out there in the forest.”

  Garrick laughed and clapped him hard on the shoulder. “You still standing around waiting for orders, or did you finally get fired?”

  “Someone has to keep an eye on him while you two plan the future,” Carter shot back.

  Harold gestured toward the door. “You might as well come in. I want your perspective, too.”

  Carter didn’t argue. He pushed off the wall and followed them inside.

  The office was quiet in a way the rest of the keep wasn’t. It was simple, clean, and barely touched. A solid desk sat near the center, well-made but plain, with a couple of drawers that hadn’t been filled yet. A single padded chair stood behind it, with a couple more to its left. The shelves lined one wall, empty for now.

  A large window dominated the far wall, overlooking the Landing. Rough roads, halls, and the training yard where morning drills continued were visible. The view gave the place a sense of scale Harold hadn’t felt on the tour.

  Off to one side sat a small brazier. Harold glanced at it, filed the thought away. That’ll be good for coffee.

  Garrick whistled softly. “Not bad. Lords live well.”

  Carter walked to the window and looked out. “Hard to argue with the view.”

  Harold moved around the desk but didn’t sit. He planted his hands on the edge, knuckles whitening, eyes locked on the Landing below, forcing himself to focus. "All right," he said, voice steeled but tight. "Let's talk about Sarah."

  Harold stayed where he was, hands braced on the desk, eyes still on the Landing below.

  "She’s reckless," he admitted, the words heavy. "She isn’t stupid, and she keeps just cautious enough that things work out. But she’s reckless in that dangerous way—when the world keeps letting you win, you forget you’re gambling with people’s lives."

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  Garrick didn’t interrupt, but Harold could see he was filing the information away. Carter shifted his weight but stayed quiet.

  "In her last life," Harold continued, his voice heavy, "she didn’t change until it cost her people. They pushed into a cave they knew they shouldn't enter, and I watched it all fall apart. Last time, those with us were mostly strangers. Now, the group she leads has perks I can't risk losing."

  He finally turned from the window. “She’s walking the same path I hoped she wouldn’t. Turns out hope isn’t a plan.”

  Carter frowned. “Everyone needs some development, but having her fail is risky.”

  “She needs to realize she’s not ready,” Harold replied.

  Garrick folded his arms. “This is about her rushing off over that river to save people that didn't need it, then getting stuck in that cave system pinned between the Thresher King and those centaurs.”

  Harold sighed. "Yes, and it worked out very well for them. They came out with perks I’ve never seen, which only encouraged her. She has the soul of adventure, which made her powerful last time and will again if we guide her."

  “I told her just enough,” Harold said evenly. “Pieces from her last life, I knew it would pull her in, and now I know that it’s the first place she will go explore.”

  He paused. “It just can’t happen here. If she stays, she’ll keep bending rules, doing whatever she thinks she can get away with. I can’t afford that. Not from her. Not from anyone watching her. Sure, I’ll play favorites—she’s my sister—but I have a duty. Everyone here matters. I can’t let my bias put them at risk.”

  Carter let out a slow breath. “That's a level of deception I didn't expect from you.”

  Harold sighed. “I'll send her off with some support, not enough to make her comfortable. What she doesn't know is that there are important tasks I need completed in the Blackjaw mountains that are right up her alley. I know everything about those mountains because they’re where we lived last time. I know how to exploit them. So I’m gonna drop hints about things there, and she will go to them, thinking they are all her idea. Allowing her to go on an adventure will be a win-win. She gets away from here, she gets what she wants, and she gets stronger, which will only help us in the long run.”

  Then his attention locked on Garrick.

  “What I want to know is how you plan to train her when she goes through your scout program.”

  Garrick didn’t answer right away, as he thought through his answer.

  "I want you to hammer them," Harold instructed, tone iron-hard. "Push lose-lose scenarios. Force bad choices with worse outcomes. Make sure they learn what it’s like to have no good options, to feel that weight—not just imagine it."

  Carter raised an eyebrow. “You want them broken?”

  Harold's voice dropped, almost bitter. "Yes—almost, but not quite. I want them accountable. They live as if there are no consequences. Potions have spoiled them. It’s time for reality."

  He leaned forward. "Design it so failure is theirs. However you do it, I don’t want them blaming the world. I want them to see which decision caused the slide."

  The room stayed quiet for a moment.

  Garrick nodded. "That can be done, but I’ll need to talk to Margaret and Hale when they return. I’ll need help organizing it."

  Carter glanced between them. “And if she hates it?”

  Harold shrugged. “She can hate me later. I’d rather have her alive and thinking than confident and dead. She needs to learn caution, or she needs to become so powerful there's no need for caution.”

  Garrick’s expression hardened, already moving into instructor mode. “Then, when she enters the program, I won’t treat her like Sarah. She’ll be another scout candidate.”

  “That’s all I’m asking,” Harold said. “Strip the legend off her early, and separate her from her team.”

  He straightened, the decision clearly settled. “If she's ever going to lead, she has to know firsthand the weight of failed leadership and the responsibility that comes with it. I'm hoping this makes her a more cautious, better leader."

  Garrick looked over, an uncomfortable expression on his face…”How willing are you to take some losses…?”

  Harold met Garrick's gaze, searching for the true meaning behind Garrick's question, anxious about what level of loss Garrick was referring to and whether it was something Harold was prepared to accept.

  "The only way it really sticks is with real losses. We have that guy on a murder charge… let me have him."

  Harold immediately caught on to what he was saying. "Done. After the judge does his part, his sentence will be what you decide." Though his words were steady, the gravity of the choice pressed in on the room. Carter sensed it first—the moral line Harold was willing to cross for the sake of his plan and what he believed was necessary.