The air in the lower armoury of Grymmwatch Keep held the familiar chill of deep stone, sharp with the tang of weapon oil and the faint, underlying scent of Margard's perpetual damp. Calix von Fellner stood before a munitions locker, ostensibly inspecting rows of heavy-gauge slug rounds, but his stillness was absolute, deliberate. Even in the relative quiet of the Keep, a corded repression emanated from him, visible in the disciplined line of his shoulders beneath the grey and loden green frock coat, a stark contrast to the barely-contained energy hinted at in his lean, strong frame. His Grave-Pelt, with its imposing bone spines, likely hung in his quarters; its absence did little to diminish his inherent presence.

Harkun, Captain of the Keep's Hearth-Guard, approached, his own scarred face set in dutiful lines. He stopped a respectful distance away, performing the Kith-Sign – forearm barred across his chest, his head executing the precise, deferential Cant.

"Report clear, Lord-venator," Harkun stated, his voice rough but steady. "Perimeter sweeps show nothing beyond usual Ghoulfang spoor near the upper ravines."

Calix turned slowly, his movement economical. His mismatched eyes – the right a rich, warm brown, the left a flat, foggy grey that seemed to absorb the flickering lumen-light – fixed on the Captain. The stark white 'Fellner Moon' at his temple was the only break in his dark hair. His expression was impassive, carved.

"Acceptable," Calix replied, his voice low, level, devoid of unnecessary inflection. "Maintain vigilance." A pause, then a specific directive. "The approaches bordering the Hecutor March – double the watch rota effective immediately. Ensure your Thanes understand: any irregularity, any track that seems... out of place... is reported to me without delay."

The words were simple command, clipped and precise, leaving no room for interpretation. It wasn't a suggestion; it was the expectation of the Hand of House Fellner, the enforcer of their claim.

"Aye, Lord-venator," Harkun affirmed, giving another, briefer Cant before moving off smartly to relay the orders.

Calix watched him go, his intense gaze lingering for a moment on the armoury door before turning back to the inert slugs, his cool composure utterly intact, betraying nothing of the thoughts that might churn beneath.