Three days passed before the church returned.
Owen spent that time cataloging the city's defensive capabilities, mapping escape routes, and monitoring the political temperature through careful observation.
The common people didn't care about one blacksmith's heresy investigation. But the religious faithful were talking. Whispers in market squares. Knowing looks exchanged in cathedral shadows.
Celeste continued working. Her shop remained open. Customers came for repairs and new commissions. She treated everyone with the same professional courtesy, never mentioning the investigation or the book confiscation.
Vorthraxx barely left her side. He'd taken residence in the workshop's back room, sleeping in dragon form because the space wasn't built for humanoid comfort. His presence deterred casual harassment but attracted attention from city guard patrols who found reasons to walk past more frequently.
