The field infirmary was a canvas shade and a supply table borrowed from the shield team. Qinghe kept General Xun on a low cot near the open side, where the air moved freely. A coalition medic sat by his pulse. His adjutant stood beyond the screen with the general’s sword still out of reach.
Yan stayed near the cot. Xun’s breathing remained shallow, but the wrap helped. Qinghe gave him water by measured sips and watched his throat move before she allowed another.
“The order you followed carried a pension seal,” Yan said to the adjutant. “What did the Registry promise?”
The young officer looked at Xun. “They said the general’s family would receive a pension if he delayed the coalition.”
“Was it written?”
“The promise was verbal. The seal was on the sash.”
Wei sat down at the supply table and turned over the recovered activation seal. Its clasp had a narrow compartment underneath. He used a small pin to open it and pulled out a folded order, the paper pressed into a tight square.
“This was inside the seal,” he said.
