The King Who Broke Heaven’s Tithe

Chapter 116 A Boot Before a Banner

Corven put his split boot on the claims table and waited to be told it was too small a matter.

Nera asked him to turn it over.

The sole had opened beside a line of old stitching. Cord held the heel together. A stone lodged beneath the worn leather had rubbed a red patch into his foot.

“Who saw it happen?” she asked.

“Ress. At the station approach.”

Ress had come with a delivery from Cinderbank and stood ready to answer. He confirmed the split during the sortie, then added something Corven had not volunteered.

“It was worn before we went.”

Corven's shoulders tightened.

“I didn't say it was new.”

“No,” Nera said. “We're establishing what the operation damaged.”

The seventy ninth afternoon brought no raised chair for Daren. He was three days north, and the claims process had to work without his face beside it.

Maret sat with Ena and Lorn again. They heard from the volunteer who had pulled the driver clear beside Corven during the boar attack. That later work had worsened the opening, but it had not caused the first split.

Brida's absence meant no one could pretend to quote her assessment. Berrit knew metal and joints. He declined to estimate a cobbler's repair merely because people trusted him with other tools.

A woman named Tessa, who mended harness and shoes for the households, examined the boot. The upper could be saved. A full sole was unnecessary, but the damaged edge needed new leather and sound stitching.

There was enough repair hide for one such patch.

There was also a request for a child's torn winter shoe.

Corven looked toward the smaller shoe on the table. For a moment Iven thought he would withdraw his claim to avoid being watched while asking.

Maret stopped him before shame could make the decision for everyone.

“We can owe a repair even when we cannot do every repair today.”

Tessa found the child's shoe could be closed with a narrow strip from an existing offcut. Corven's larger patch would use most of the remaining piece. Neither repair needed to consume the leather twice.

The panel approved restoration of the sortie damage, not a new pair of boots. Tessa agreed to do the stitching as her contribution to the common repair work. The use of hide was recorded. Its remaining size would determine what they could promise next time.

Corven watched her cut.

“Would this have happened if I hadn't worked on the screens?”

“Yes,” Maret said.

“Even if I'd kept arguing?”

“Probably with more noise.”

Ress laughed. Corven did too, reluctantly.

Tessa made Corven put the boot on before she trimmed the final edge. He took three steps, turned, and winced.

“Here,” he said, touching the heel.

She loosened the stitch nearest the old seam and asked him to try again. This time he walked without the sharp hitch Iven had begun to recognize.

The child's shoe went to its waiting father, who had carried his daughter across the wet yard wrapped in a blanket. He thanked Tessa, then Corven.

“I didn't repair it,” Corven said.

“No. You left room on the table for it.”

He had no ready answer to that.

While the boot was being repaired, Nera asked him about a second proposal he had made: a permanent band of defenders, fed first and answerable directly to the keeper.

Corven glanced toward the gate.

“I don't want another animal in the yard while we decide whose turn it is to be brave.”

It was a better argument than wanting a larger bowl. Iven sat down to hear it properly.

They needed regular watches, a sound pole by the gate, a clear path for carts, and somebody who could call the children inside. None of those tasks required turning the rest of the settlement into dependents of armed men.

Ress offered the crossing's watch rotation as a starting point. Volunteers could take named shifts, with replacements agreed in advance. Household work and injury would be considered when assigning hours. An emergency caller could direct the immediate response; the authority would end with the emergency.

Corven wanted to train with Osric when he returned.

Nera wrote that down as a request, not an appointment.

“What do we call ourselves?” he asked.

“The people on watch,” Iven said.

“That won't frighten anybody.”

“Good boots and a closed gate may help.”

He looked at the repair in Tessa's lap and shook his head, smiling despite himself.

Tev had been listening from the infirmary step. When Nera asked for someone to keep the shift marks legible, he raised his left hand.

Jun turned toward him too quickly.

“Only if Pella says—”

“It's chalk,” he said. “Not a boiler.”

She stopped.

Pella agreed to brief work with rests, provided he could stop when his hand cramped. Tev would copy names after Nera checked them. He would not be responsible for finding replacements or settling disputes.

That evening, Corven returned the borrowed cord from his boot. He placed it beside the gate tools, coiled neatly instead of dropping it in the dust.

Then he took the first watch he had freely accepted.

Tev marked his name on the board.

For the first time since coming home, the young man had a task that would still be there if he needed to put it down.

At the gate, Corven lifted the repaired foot, tested its weight, and looked toward the dark road.

He had asked for a banner.

What they had given him would let him stand.