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She smiles tightly. “We’ll open the grounds once a month for local businesses to set up booths. Our staff will shop. Our campers’ families will be encouraged to visit and explore. We’ll offer free enchanted goods to local schools—nonvolatile, of course. Custom garden runes.

Charm-engraved pencils. Wards for the firehouse.”

She’s making promises. And she hasn’t cleared any of this with me.

But damn if she doesn’t have them leaning forward.

“You can boycott us,” she says. “Or you can work with us. Let your economy benefit. Let your kids learn. Let this place prove it’s not a threat.”

Someone whispers to someone else.

Another lowers their sign.

I stare at her.

This woman who walked into my world full of laminated forms and overachiever guilt and has somehow become the one who holds us all together.

The townies start murmuring, not all agreement, but less pure rage.

Then the first voice says, “We’ll think about it.”

And they start to leave.

Not quickly, but they leave.

Groth exhales slow. “That was... something.”

I look at her.

I don’t smile.

But I nod once. “Come with me.”

We walk back to the admin tent in silence. The camp is quiet now, but a wind stirs in the trees like it’s proud of us.

Inside, I close the door. Turn.

“You went off-script.”

She doesn’t look guilty. “I had to.”

“You leveraged services we haven’t even confirmed we can provide.”

“But we will.”

“You’re assuming?—”

“I’m assuming we’d rather make allies than enemies,” she snaps. “They were ready to burn us down, Torack. I gave them a rope to hold onto.”

I step close.

Close enough she has to tilt her chin up.

“You risked a lot.”

“So did you,” she says, quieter now. “When you hired me.”

My throat tightens.