On the twenty-fifth day of the autumn flood watch, the town criers of Lathmere stood at the four great market crosses of the city, reading aloud from broad thick parchment scrolls bearing the great red wax seal of the Municipal Senate and the crossed-measuring tongs stamp of the Courtesy Workshop.
In the grand plaza outside the Guildhall, hundreds of wagon drivers, masons, lightermen, and apprentices gathered in the crisp morning air. They listened in respectful silence as the crier’s voice rang out over the cobblestones: ‘Be it enacted by unanimous decree of the Municipal Senate and the High Court of Aldermen: The Five Principles of the Courtesy Workshop are hereby declared sovereign law across all fourteen wards of Lathmere!’
In the counting room of the Ferry Kitchen, Pella Rook, Eren Tal, Jo Saye, and Sister Merrow stood around the oak table. She looked down at the master copy of Statute 710, written on heavy calfskin thick parchment in dark, indelible dark oak-ink. Beside the document lay Hal Rook’s brass measuring tongs, resting on the parchment like an unbending balance weight.
‘Read the second clause again, Pella,’ Eren Tal said, his hand resting gently on the wooden edge of the table. ‘Read it so we never forget what it cost to put those words on calfskin.’
