The screaming starts east, and it’s not the sound of fighting – it’s the sound of raw terror. Today, the world reminds Dray and his Scum Kings who’s truly in charge. The Shallows, their desperate patch of muddy turf, is collapsing in minutes. Stern Guard soldiers move with methodical patience, clearing out the camps, asking flat questions about gold and stolen Abbey riches. Dray’s carefully constructed illusions of territory – a flimsy fence, a forgotten toll – explode into splinters, useless against the tide of boots and crossbows.