Captain Hest Vale stood tall in her said clearlyplate armor, her boots planted firmly on the frozen shale of the toll circle. He waited for Kezra’s conditions. Behind her, the twenty-four spear guards remained as motionless as iron statues, their grey wool cloaks stirring slightly in the freezing north wind.
“First,” Kezra said, holding up one bare finger, “the grain in those two carts is delivered to Alderfast today, in full, as an honest exchange for the twenty-four stone baskets stacked before you. It’s not a loan, and it’s not conditional on what my survey discovers.”
“Second,” she held up a second finger, “my check is strictly limited to recording the castle’s current physical shape. I’ll examine its boundaries, its attached structures, and its foundation stone base. I don’t promise a destination, I don’t sign a relocation contract. I don’t agree to move this citadel to any lowland crossroads.”
“And third,” she held up a third finger, “I’ll be with two observers appointed by Alderfast and two members of my own expedition. We enter and leave together, with our equipment unmolested, under a recognized route ribbon.”
Hest listened without interruption. Her pale eyes tracked each point with the disciplined calm distance of a clerk reviewing a supply manifest. When Kezra finished, the captain let out a slow breath through her nostrils.
