Two months changed the rhythm of the Osborn Clan. Not loudly. Not in ways the city would notice. But inside the walls, everything moved differently.
Morning drills began before sunrise now. No shouting, no wasted movement. Groups rotated in controlled intervals through the Battle Experience Array chamber. The stone floor beneath the array had been reinforced twice already from repeated impact. Sweat darkened the air. Pride no longer did.
The spirit stone vein beneath the clan grounds had been sealed behind reinforced rock and layered concealment formations. Only a handful of elders knew the exact entrance. Extraction was slow and deliberate. No sudden surge of stones into the market. No patterns that would draw attention.
Measured growth. Robert stood above the underground access corridor one morning and listened to the faint sound of chisels striking mineral. Not frantic. Not greedy. Controlled in their work.
Enough to sustain the arrays. Enough to support alchemy. Nothing more.
