Mud sucks at Arimari Tiarasan’s sandals as he and Reina angle below the ridge. The stolen route notes are wet, but still legible, a relay path sketched around the main road and straight toward Nomaru’s service yards.

Ahead, two horsemen idle in a willow cut, one reading from a folded strip while the other scans the mist. Their satchels bear the same house cord as the notes in Arimari’s hand.

Arimari and Reina slide into the reeds. One rider starts to turn downhill, already eager to carry the next message. The paper in Arimari’s grip shows three handoffs, each timed to outrun a single warning.

The relay is no rumor now. It is a chain, and if Arimari breaks this pair before they ride, the network loses its final clean path to Nomaru’s gates.

Reina snaps the reeds hard enough to rattle the mud bank. The nearer horse shies sideways, and its rider jerks up from the strip in his hands.

Arimari steps out low and fast, naginata already cutting the rider’s path. The blade hooks across the horse’s chest strap and checks the mount before it can bolt downhill.

The second rider wheels, boots slipping in the wet rut, but Reina’s glare keeps him from charging past the willow cut.

Arimari drives the shaft forward, forcing the lead horseman to lean back and lose his grip on the relay strip. The paper tears free and drops into the mud at Arimari’s feet.

In the torn strip’s corner, Arimari catches a fresh brush mark, a relay tally for the next handoff, not the estate itself. The chain is thinner than it looked.

The lead rider staggers in the saddle, trapped by the naginata, while Reina bars the second rider’s escape with a sharp step and bared teeth. Neither can pass without deciding whether to flee or fight.