He was on the roof before dawn.
Not because he hadn't slept. He'd slept fine, which was notable in itself — the base layer of the Warlord running in his channels all night, finding its accommodation incrementally, and the finding had been loud enough that he'd expected to lie awake with it. Instead he'd slept with the specific quality of someone who had said a difficult thing and been received correctly and whose body understood that the difficult thing was done.
He came upstairs because the accommodation process was producing a specific awareness he wanted to run properly. Not anxiety. Just the feeling of something new in the architecture that wanted to be tested.
He ran the forms.
