News reached the mountain without sound.
The Mountain Guest received it through a letter sealed with no sigil, carried by a traveler who did not stay. Vale never saw the messenger. He only noticed the Guest standing still at the hut's threshold, the letter already burned to ash in his palm.
"The south moves," the Guest said at last. "The north responds."
Vale did not ask what that meant. He had learned not to ask questions whose answers would widen the world too quickly.
"Wars," the Guest continued, "rarely begin with hatred. They begin with disagreement over principles."
He poured tea, hands steady.
"The Southern Resonance Houses want expansion. They believe sound should dominate space. The Northern Sects disagree. They believe silence is sacred."
Vale frowned. "Then why fight?"
The Guest smiled faintly. "Because both are correct. And neither can tolerate the other's correctness."
Vale felt a subtle tightening in his chest.
"Where does the Sound Clan stand?" Vale asked.
"Between," the Guest replied. "Which is the most dangerous place."
He looked toward the distant horizon. Even from here, the mountain's air felt heavier.
"When doctrines clash," the Guest said, "neutrality becomes a provocation."
Vale understood then.
The Covenant would not remain idle.
"And you?" Vale asked quietly.
The Guest looked at him.
"I am a guest everywhere," he said. "Which means I leave before banners rise."