Y'elcan stripped off the white surcoat of the Order of Light and dropped it in the mud. Twenty years wearing that cloth ended here, at the edge of the human farms. The elf lord had signed the eviction order last night. By spring, these people would lose the fields they had cultivated for three generations. Y'elcan had sworn to protect travelers and settlers from injustice. So Y'elcan chose exile over the Order that now served cruelty. The farmers watched from their doorways. They did not cheer. They had seen armored elves before, and armored elves brought bad news. A woman with a baby on her hip stepped back inside and shut her door. "You throw away a good coat," a voice called. Ironsung climbed down from a stout pony, a stringed instrument slung across his back. The dwarf's purple hair caught the gray light. Y'elcan and Ironsung had marched together for years, and Ironsung was the one ally who never asked Y'elcan to soften. "I heard the order got read aloud in the square. Figured you'd do something loud about it." "I'm not loud. That's your job." Y'elcan lifted the heavy tower shield and planted it upright in the road, blocking the way to the farms. "The lord's soldiers come at dawn to mark the houses. They won't reach a single door." Ironsung whistled. "One paladin. A whole company. That's not a plan, that's a headstone." A second rider arrived before Y'elcan could answer. Brin Starbloom, the runaway princess of Phelmira, swung off her mount in robes too short for the cold. She ignored Y'elcan entirely and crouched at the old boundary stones lining the field. "These wards are court law," she said, brushing dirt from a carved rune. "The eviction only holds if the lord's seal binds to the land. Break the binding, and his order is just ink." "You can do that?" Y'elcan asked. Brin grinned. "I can break most things." She packed a small charge against the stone and stepped back. The blast cracked the rune in half. The carved lines went dark. At dawn, the soldiers came. Their captain unrolled the eviction order and pressed the lord's seal against the boundary. Nothing happened. The seal would not bind to broken wards. Behind the dead stone stood Y'elcan, shield locked, immovable. Ironsung stood on a fence rail and played until the farmers came out to listen. The company had no legal claim and no stomach for a slaughter over ink. The captain rolled up the order and turned his horse around. The farms were safe. But Y'elcan was now an exile with no order, no home, and a lord who knew exactly who had shamed his soldiers. "So what now?" Brin asked, wiping soot on her robe. Y'elcan looked at the farmhouses, then at the empty road where any traveler might come. "Now I build a place they can't take. A roof for anyone. A hot meal, a safe bed. No lord's seal on it."