The heavy brass seal of the City of Lathmere—three open water gate gates beneath a rising sun—pressed into the pool of scarlet sealing wax on Executive Warrant Eighty-Eight C with a sharp, final crunch.
Councilor Vesk lifted the heavy signet, inspected the crisp impression of the town gates in the cooling wax. Then it handed the heavy thick parchment scroll directly to Warden Korr Var. Korr, a veteran of twenty winter campaigns along the northern river border, wore a brigandine coat of boiled leather plates over his dark blue town tunic. An iron-tipped hickory baton was hanging at his belt beside a coiled lead-weighted throwing line.
“Warrant Eighty-Eight C,” Vesk announced, his voice ringing through the vaulted session chamber. “By power of the Old City Charter, Article Fourteen, the town council hereby places the Hollow Crown and all associated high-pressure gears into emergency protective custody.”
Two academy delegates rose from their seats at the far end of the horseshoe table. Their velvet caps shook with indignant fury. “This is an act of armed insurrection against the Summoners’ Guild! You can’t seize a sacred civic monument by town decree!”
“A monument that threatens to drown four thousand citizens isn’t sacred, Master Orin,” Vesk said. His voice was cold, steady, and devoid of political pause. “It’s a public nuisance and a coming soon load-bearing hazard. If Master Sorell refuses to open his discharge drain tubes, we’ll open them by executive power under town law.”
