**Corporal Garrick Thorne's Log, Supplemental**
**Rothguard Coastal Woods recording**
**37 days after Rothgard's Fall**
The forest still knows its own.
We only need to remind ourselves that we have not forgotten.
Garrick Thorne crouched beneath the shelter of an ancient oak; the squad and Sergeant Mira "Havoc" Calder huddled close in a tight circle. Moonlight filtered through the leaves in silver threads, illuminating their faces in pale, tense strokes. The night air carried the familiar scent of pine and salt, now laced with the distant tang of Imperial campfires and forge smoke.
Mira reached into her pack and pulled out the flexible tablet, unrolling it across her knee with a soft snap. The screen glowed faintly with the latest satellite scan of the city, its crisp overlays painting a stark picture of how much Rothguard had changed. Garrick leaned in, studying the image with a heavy heart. "Look here," he said, voice low and steady as he traced a finger across the display without touching the screen. "The new military dock cuts straight into the harbour with a clear channel to the sea. They've doubled the berths—enough to unload entire regiments in a single tide. And that noble district on the eastern foothills outside the walls… they're building estates under the castle's shadow, thinking the cliffs make them safe. The resistance knows those hills better than any Imperial engineer."
Mira studied the glowing map for a long moment, then looked up, her eyes sharp in the faint blue light. "Any mark the resistance will know, but the Imperia won't? Something simple, discreet, that won't draw attention if a patrol sees it."
Garrick nodded without hesitation. "The old Rothguard knot-mark. Three interlocking lines carved low on a doorpost, barrel, or beam, pierced by a single straight slash through the center. I don't know if the current resistance uses it, but any royal guard or truly loyal guard would recognize it instantly. It's like a secret society brotherhood among the trusted—something we passed only to those who had proven their loyalty beyond doubt. It means 'loyal steel still stands.'"
He reached out and drew the symbol directly on the touch-sensitive screen with his fingertip—three clean interlocking lines cut through by one decisive slash. The mark lingered on the display for a moment before he wiped it away. "Leave it low and small. Only the right eyes will see it for what it is." Mira committed the image to memory, then gave a single, decisive nod. "That's the plan. We move in groups of two or three. Stay civilian. If challenged, you are labourers seeking work on the docks. Keep the pistols concealed unless there is no other choice."
She reached into her pack again and produced a small handful of plain, worn-looking communication crystal charms—low-quality imitations that would pass casual inspection. "These look like the cheap charms every trader carries. They're actually encrypted comm units synced to our network. Tap the rune twice to transmit, once to receive. Use them only when necessary. The resistance will know the knot-mark. Deliver Jasmine's message the moment you make contact."
The squad absorbed her words in silence, the weight of the mission settling over them like a heavy cloak. Garrick met each pair of eyes in turn. "Rothguard still lives in its people. We remind them tonight. Stay alive. Stay unseen. We meet at the Silver Anchor." Without another word, the groups split. Darius and Elara melted toward the western caravan route. Rylan and Tobin slipped northward into the denser trees. Garrick and Mira turned south, moving like ghosts through the underbrush. The forest swallowed their footsteps as they approached the walls of their occupied home.