The rider arrived on the eastern road at midmorning.
Korr spotted him from the northern wall and studied him for a long time before descending to meet Mira at the gate. A beetle crawled across the stone beside his boot.
"Single rider. No escort visible, but that doesn't mean there isn't one within signaling distance. He's carrying a flag. Not Solarian. Blue and silver, with something I can't make out from here."
Mira squinted. "Valdross."
"You're sure?"
"Blue and silver on white. That's the Valdross diplomatic standard. I spent two years on their northern border." She stopped. "I know their banners."
"Valdross. They've been sending the most inquiries through trade channels. Oswin said they'd send someone eventually."
The rider dismounted at the edge of the thorn vine perimeter and stood waiting, one hand resting on his saddle. Alone — deliberately alone, the way diplomats traveled when they wanted to broadcast that they were unarmed. His clothes were expensive. The cloak alone probably cost more than the village's annual trade surplus before the battle. His boots held a mirror shine that made no sense in the dust of the Barrens. His hair was dark, threaded with silver at the temples.
His retinue arrived twenty minutes later. Four attendants, a scribe, a cook, and two guards, all on horseback, all in blue and silver. They rode through the thorn vine perimeter without incident. The vines didn't react. Korr noted that. The network let armed Valdross guards walk through without so much as a twitch — either Chris's growing control or the network didn't consider them a threat.
Neither interpretation reassured him.
Lord Brennan Vasek introduced himself with a bow that was exactly deep enough to convey respect without conveying deference. His eyes moved across the village — rebuilt walls, patched roofs, the massive tree — with the quick assessing precision of a man cataloging assets.
"A pleasure. I am Lord Brennan Vasek, Envoy Plenipotentiary of the Valdross Empire, dispatched by the Imperial Court to establish formal relations with—" A pause. His gaze lifted to the canopy overhead. "—with this settlement."
"You can call it a village," Korr said. "That's what it is."
"Of course. My apologies. With the village." Vasek smiled. "I come bearing gifts from the Imperial Court. Tokens of goodwill, meant to express our interest in peaceful coexistence and mutual prosperity."
The gifts were laid out on a table in the common hall. Valdross steel — three blades of varying sizes, folded and tempered in the Valdross style, each one a masterwork. Oswin's breath caught. Seed varieties Korr didn't recognize, small packets wrapped in oiled cloth, labeled in Valdross script. A formal letter sealed with wax and ribbon, bearing the imperial crest. A bolt of silk the color of deep water. A small chest of coins — gold and silver, more money than the village had seen in its entire existence.
Oswin's hand kept reaching toward the Valdross steel and pulling back.
"The seed varieties are from the Imperial Botanical Gardens," Vasek said, watching Oswin. "Several are exclusive to the Valdross Empire. We considered them well-suited to the agricultural conditions here."
"We'll accept the seeds. The steel we'll examine and return if unsuitable."
Vasek's smile didn't waver. "I would like to discuss more substantive matters. The Valdross Empire wishes to establish a permanent trade relationship with the village. We'd also like to open a diplomatic mission here — a small office, staffed by representatives who could serve as a direct line of communication between your leadership and the Imperial Court."
Korr's face didn't change. The request for a permanent diplomatic presence was the real ask. A permanent mission meant intelligence gathering, eyes on the ground, Valdross knowing everything that happened in the village within days.
"What mutual security interests do you have in mind?"
"The Valdross Empire recognizes that this village occupies a strategically significant position. The transformation of the Barrens — the growth, the soil, the entity at your center — these developments affect the entire continent." Vasek spread his hands. "Protection in exchange for access. Stability in exchange for cooperation."
"Protection from what?"
"From whoever comes next. The Solarian Empire is wounded, not dead. The Equion Confederacy is expansionist by nature. The demon lord to the south has taken a keen interest." He measured his words. "The world is watching this village, Commander. I'm simply the first to arrive with an open hand instead of an army."
One of the Valdross guards sneezed. Nobody acknowledged it.
Sera sat in the corner of the common hall for the entire exchange, sword across her knees. She didn't speak. She observed.
The cook was a woman in her forties, unremarkable except for the precise efficiency with which she moved through the kitchen. Sera had spent enough time in imperial courts to recognize the type. The scribe was young, genuinely nervous — probably the only member of the retinue who wasn't an operative. The two guards were obvious. Trained soldiers, armed with Valdross steel, standing near the door.
The fourth attendant was the problem. Average height, average build. A forgettable face that Sera had to look at twice to remember. He stood near Vasek's left shoulder, half a step behind, in the position a bodyguard would occupy if the bodyguard were also something else. Hands empty. Eyes moving.
Sera tracked those eyes. They moved the way hers did — exits, threats, the most dangerous person in the room. In this room, that was either Korr or the tree outside. The attendant's gaze flicked between both.
She leaned close to Korr between sessions. "The one on Vasek's left."
"I see him."
"He's not only a bodyguard."
"No." Korr's voice didn't change. "They're not trying to hide it. That's the point."
The tree reacted when Vasek touched it.
After the formal discussions — nothing agreed, nothing refused — Vasek asked to see the tree up close. Korr agreed, because refusing would have been more suspicious than allowing it. Vasek approached the trunk with measured steps and stopped a foot from the bark, pale eyes tracing the black-and-white spirals. His hand rose slowly, giving anyone who might object time to object.
No one objected. Sera stood ten feet away, hand on her sword. Korr stood beside her, arms crossed. The centaur shaman stood across the square, symbols glowing faintly.
Vasek touched the bark. For a moment nothing. His palm pressed flat. The pulse continued. Wind moved through the canopy.
Then the root beneath Vasek's feet shifted.
A quarter inch. Maybe less. Vasek was paying attention — he paid attention to everything — and the shift registered through the soles of his boots. His hand came off the bark. He stepped back. For a single instant his mask cracked — eyes widened, mouth opened — before he locked it down.
"My apologies." He straightened his cloak. "I didn't mean to intrude."
He walked back to his retinue without looking at the tree. The quiet one pulled a notebook from inside his coat and wrote something down. A dog that had been sleeping under the common hall eaves got up, stretched, and wandered away.
Korr stood there. "That went well."
"He'll report what happened," Sera said. "The root moved under his feet. He can't spin that."
"Good. Let them know the tree is aware. Let them know it responds to touch." Korr turned to the trunk. The pulse was steady. "Fear and awe are tools too."
"You sound like Oswin."
Korr's mouth twitched. "Don't tell him that."
Vasek left the next morning with a smile, a bow, and a promise to return within the month. The quiet one glanced back at the tree until the thorn vine perimeter swallowed the view.
Oswin caught up with Korr as the Valdross party disappeared over the eastern ridge.
"The seeds alone are worth a fortune. And the steel — do you have any idea what Valdross folded steel goes for on the open market?"
"We're not selling anything."
"Not selling. Trading. Leveraging. Valdross opened a door. Equion will be next. Torben, the Ashen Federation, even the Solarian Empire — they'll all want something, and everything they want is something we can trade for something we need."
"We need walls."
"We need everything, Korr. Walls, food, tools, weapons, people. The only currency we have is what's growing in this soil, and the longer we sit on it without building trade relationships, the more chance someone decides to take it instead of negotiate."
Korr stopped walking. He looked at Oswin — really looked, the way he looked at a battlefield before committing to a plan.
"Build your trade network. Carefully. With my oversight. Anyone who wants to trade goes through you. You report every conversation to me and Sera. Every single one."
Oswin nodded, already writing. "You won't regret this."
"I already regret it." Korr started walking again. "Do it anyway."