Hector came to his office.
Not the south training ground, not a corridor in passing — his office, with the knock that meant he had decided something and was acting on the decision. Three knocks, unhurried, final.
Lysander opened the door.
Hector looked at the room — the tablets, the inventory spread on the table, the shard collection on the window ledge. He had been in this office twice before, both times briefly, both times for specific logistical questions about training and supply coordination.
This was different.
He came in and sat in the chair across the table — the chair Arsini had sat in, the chair Doros had sat in, the chair that was becoming the chair people sat in when they had come to say something real.
He said: *"I want to know what is coming."*
Not: *I have a question about the threat.* Not: *you mentioned difficulties before.* A direct statement of what he wanted, plain as everything Hector did.
Lysander closed the door.
He sat across from him.
