The guards surge in with practiced force, not striking at random, but going straight for every courtier still stained by the fading brand. Hands twist arms behind backs, cuffs bite wrists, and the marked are hauled off in tight formation.
Slaan stays centered in the churn, shadow magic still prickling at her fingertips. Bram clamps a hand over the wax-sealed token and the papers, keeping them out of the crush as the room splits into obedience and panic.
King Steven
Take them to the dungeons. Separate the marked from the rest, now.
Lord Markul
Good. Let the court see what the seal exposed.
The Bound Courtier fights the grip on him, but a guard slams him down to one knee and wrenches him toward the door with the others. A Pale Clerk goes paleer still, staring at the revealed watcher code like it has finally named his fear.
Bram turns the token slightly in his palm, then looks to Slaan. Beneath the uproar, the hidden seam has done its work, but the true next step is clear, the court now knows the chaos-taint is real, and someone has to decide who gets questioned first.
✓ Quest Accepted
Secure the evidence in the King's vault
“I cast spectral bonds on the pale clerk”
SUCCESS (Legendary Arcana, rolled +1)
Slaan lifts her hand and threads the air with pale shadow. Thin spectral cords snap around the Pale Clerk’s wrists and chest, pinning him where he stands.
A Pale Clerk
I did not touch the seal, I swear it.
The clerk jerks once, then the bonds tighten and hold. Bram shifts the token behind his palm, while the surrounding guards keep hauling the marked courtiers toward the doors.
King Steven
That one stays. Bring him forward.
Lord Markul angles his gaze toward the open seam, then back to Slaan, as if weighing whether the clerk is culprit, witness, or bait.
A Pale Clerk
They saw the watchers in the code. They know.
The ash in the mosaic seam continues to drain inward, and the wax-sealed token lies ready in Bram’s hand while the room waits for the first question.
“I press the clerk toward the open seam”
SUCCESS (Legendary Strength, rolled +0)
Slaan leans in and drives the clerk forward. The spectral cords take his weight, and his boots scrape hard over the broken mosaic.
A Pale Clerk
No, wait...
He hits the lip of the open seam and folds over it, one shoulder dipping toward the ash-dark slit while the wax token clacks from Bram’s hand to the floor beside him.
King Steven
Enough. Hold him there.
Markul steps closer to the opening, then stops short as the seam drains another thin ribbon of ash into the dark below. The chamber’s tremor ticks once under everyone’s feet.
A Pale Clerk
They will see the watchers in the code. They have to.
Bram snatches up the fallen token and the scattered papers before they slide into the crack. Guards close ranks around the clerk, but the evidence is still in hand, and the vault door is the next command waiting to be given.