Weakness did not attract wolves.
That was a comforting lie told by people who had never watched nobles hunt.
Wolves were honest. They chased blood because hunger had no patience for symbolism. Nobles preferred invitations, compliments, seating arrangements, charitable concern, and handwritten notes scented with expensive ink.
Wolves killed faster.
Nobles made sure the death looked like etiquette.
By noon, I had received nine invitations.
That was the first lesson of my new public weakness: hatred shouted, but opportunity wrote quickly. Yesterday, half the academy had avoided my name as if Valdrake syllables carried disease. Today, the same students wanted tea, lectures, private demonstrations, cultural exchange, and polite access to whatever damage Iron Tier had made socially touchable.
Nothing had changed except the ranking board's permission to test me.
Fear without doubt created distance.
Fear with doubt created approach.
Approach was always more dangerous.
