The bronze plate was three feet wide and four feet tall, mounted chest-high against the curved flank of the central granite pilaster that supported the western vault.
Jon lifted the horn lantern, holding the brass frame steady against the dry draft that rose from the central pit. The warm, yellow beam washed over the dark metal, illuminating the heavy, formal inscriptions cast into the plate with the crisp precision of imperial heralds. Around them, the immense rotunda hummed with its low, monotonous chord, vibrating through the soles of their boots like an unceasing river current.
The top of the panel was dominated by the high crest of the Crown: two rampant river lions supporting a blazing hearth, crowned with seven points of burnished gold leaf.
Beneath the crest, the royal dedication marched across the bronze in deep, majestic lettering:
TO THE SOVEREIGN BEARER OF THE HEARTH NAIL, APPOINTED GUARDIAN OF THE WESTERN VALLEYS, PROTECTOR OF THE RIVER CROWN, WHO ALONE SHALL BEAR THE CHARGE OF CONTINUITY AND COMMAND THE SUN TO RETURN UPON THE EMPIRE.
The letters were inlaid with solid leaf of pure, unstained gold, polished until they gleamed with an arrogant, mirror-like brilliance. Every serif was sharp, pristine, untouched by the centuries of heat and dust that had darkened the surrounding stonework. The text stood as an unyielding proclamation of solitary majesty, declaring to the stone itself that the salvation of the realm was an imperial monopoly.
