The ceremonial platform was in the way.
Felix arrived early enough to see the local coordinator move it before anyone important could object. Porters carried the smaller sections to one side. A family crossed the inspected approach with an ordinary basket between them, giving the repair crew a nod as they passed.
This was the lowland crossing, not the bridge at Solitude.
Its rails had been repaired after the flood. Surface work continued farther along the approach. Mourning had an arranged place and time; people still needed the road.
Valen would have objected to the platform.
Felix found that thought unexpectedly painful.
He helped secure an ordinary chair for an older resident, checking with the local crew before adding anything to its feet. His earned cultivation remained available. The task required a steady hand and a sound fastening, not a display of what realm he had reached.
The older resident was the man from the blue door. His daughter held the folded walking chair while the local worker checked the ceremonial seat’s footing.
