Beorn had checked the pan cover twice before they passed the citadel's outer gate, and he checked it again now, one thumb pressing the frizzen down and confirming the seal without breaking stride.
The two squads behind him moved at the same pace, keeping the formation Godric had organized before they left, loose enough for the street's width, tight enough to read as intentional.
The saber was on his left hip, acquired the previous evening from the garrison stores, and he was carrying it with the focused awareness of who knew where a weapon sat on his body but had not spent years ignoring it.
Aestrith was beside him.
"How many times do you plan to check it again?" she said.
"The first one was habit," Beorn said. "The second was confirmation. The third is because once isn't enough for today."
She looked at his left hip.
"And the saber?" she said.
"So-so," he said.
She did not respond immediately. He counted two strides before she spoke again.
