Nathaniel remains braced beside the settled black-silver seal while the violet seam fades to a dull thread. The barred doors open, and the two corridor guards step aside.
Fan, a young human man of medium height with an athletic build, fair skin, and short tousled blond hair, enters in travel-worn white and blue holy armor. Dust marks his boots, and a silver oath-token hangs at his throat.
Fan
Our order felt the buried presence awaken. Tell me plainly, Davenport. Is the crown still safe?
Behind him, the guards remain at the opened doors. The palace guard lieutenant still grips the black-silver disk, while the mercenary captain watches Fan with guarded suspicion.
the palace guard lieutenant
The king is dead, but the claim below has been denied. The seal holds, though I would not call this chamber safe.
the mercenary captain
The buried sovereign reached for the royal blood and lost its path. If your order sensed it, knight, then it may sense us as well.
Fan’s gaze settles on the fractured disk, then the empty throne. The oath-token at his throat gives one faint pulse of pale light as the chamber waits for Nathaniel’s answer.
Have Fan accept Nathaniel’s account of the sealed threat