Inside the granary yard, the air hangs thick with chaff and shouted orders. Stephen’s line holds the center, while Kaelen and Vey bracket the broken cart. Lord Tranis stands near the side gate, pale and cornered, with escape shrinking behind him.
Lord Tranis
This is a mob, not law. Stand aside, and I will remember who was wise enough to do the same.
Stephen
You remember every toll and every lash. We remember that, too.
A murmur rolls through the laborers. Kaelen steps forward with the seal and papers raised high, making the proof plain for all to see. Tranis’ hand drifts toward his belt, then stills as the ring of steel tightens around him.
Vey
No more shadows, Tranis. No more ledgers, no more lies.
Lord Tranis
If I reach the lane, I live. If I strike first, perhaps one gap opens.
Stephen and two men shift their staves into a hard barrier. Kaelen keeps the captain’s token visible. Tranis faces Battista, breathing shallow, with nowhere left to run but through a wall of witnesses.
All eyes settle on Battista, and the yard falls into a tense, waiting hush. One step, one command, one blade drawn or stayed, and Tranis’ fate tips.
undefined / undefined
The hush breaks as a side door in the granary wall slams open. A gray-robed reeve hurries in with two clerks, one clutching a ledger case, the other a ring of keys, all three staring at the proof already spread before the yard.
Reeve
By grain seal and charter, I claim this yard in the name of the Crown. No one moves until the writ is read.
Lord Tranis
You dare bring paper into my yard? Kaelen, if you have any sense left, you will remember who fed your men.
Kaelen does not lower the token. Stephen’s line holds, but the workers glance to the reeve, then back to Tranis, caught between law and loyalty. For the first time, Tranis looks less like a lord and more like a man whose own accounts have found him.
“"My Lord Reeve. Please read the writ you carry. Let your intent be known to all these witnesses. May the Crown's justice be done.”
SUCCESS (Superb Persuasion, rolled -1)
Battista keeps his voice calm, and the yard seems to lean toward it. The reeve’s hand tightens on the writ.
Reeve
Very well. Let all hear it.
He breaks the seal and reads aloud, each line carrying over the chaff and the held breath of the workers.
By the final clause, the reeve’s clerks are already copying the crest, and the crown’s claim is no longer a threat but a formal weight in the air.
Lord Tranis
This is a theft dressed as law.
Kaelen
No, my lord. It is your accounts, finally speaking back.
Stephen’s men do not move for Tranis. Reeve and clerks stand between lord and laborers, and the yard settles into a hard, lawful silence.
Battista has done what needed doing. The writ is public now, the crown is here, and Tranis has nowhere left to hide his name.