Rain beads on the stone wall as BonerFart and the others press through the side entrance. Inside, the clerk’s workroom glows with candlelight, and shelves of ledgers rise like a paper maze.
Edrin lifts a finger and points toward a back desk. Fresh ink, wet wax, and old ozone hang in the air, proof this place handles more than ordinary records.
At the far table, a narrow-faced clerk hunches over a ledger stamp, his hands moving fast. The false seals here are not copies for profit, they are the tools that split allies apart.
Merrin stills beside a stack of bound files. Garrick squares his shoulders, watching the clerk. Joe and Steven fan out behind BonerFart, ready if the man bolts.
The Clerk
No one should be in here this late.
BonerFart reaches the threshold of the truth. One clerk, one room, and the paper trail that ties Barack to every broken oath.
✓ Quest Accepted
Secure the forged ledgers