Veyra steps into the utility room, and the tunnel seal hisses shut behind her. Harsh fluorescent light turns the cramped space into a box of metal shelves, pipework, and damp concrete.
The Hooded Courier
The plate. Now.
The Hooded Courier stands by the maintenance door, one hand out, the other braced on the frame like they have been waiting too long to stay polite.
Veeran
This room is a trap if they decide it is.
Veeran shifts closer to Veyra, shoulders squared toward the courier, ready to cut off the door or the stranger, whichever moves first.
Veyra Thornveil
You want it, start by telling me who you are.
The Hooded Courier
I am the reason you are still standing in a room with a way out.
The overhead light buzzes. Somewhere beyond the door, water drips in a steady, impatient rhythm, and the courier does not lower their hand.
“I place the brass plate down, still touching it. I look at the man, making sure he doesn't make sudden moves”
SUCCESS (Good Psychology, rolled +2)
Veyra lowers the brass plate to the damp concrete, but keeps two fingers on it. The metal clicks softly under her touch, and her eyes stay on the Courier’s hands.
Veyra Thornveil
The plate is in reach. So is the door.
Veeran eases half a step back, giving her room without taking his guard off the Courier. The fluorescent light buzzes harder, making the room feel even smaller.
The Hooded Courier
Good. Don’t move it yet. I need to see what it wakes up.
The Courier’s hand stays open, but their shoulders drop a fraction, less threat than strain now. The stamped letters beneath the dragon mark catch the light as Veyra’s fingers hold the edge steady.
The Hooded Courier
That vault ledger is older than the story your family told you. I did not come here for the plate alone.
The Hooded Courier
I came because it names people who vanished, and because somebody else is already looking for it.