Marshal Solvan Krail pushed the rolled Oakhaven map to the back of his ash table, resting his hands flat upon the dark grain. Across from him, Kezra Venn stood with her canvas satchel buckled, her jointed sounding rod upright. Her signed notice lying between them like a clean boundary stone.
“You have made your position abundantly clear, Mistress Venn,” Krail said, his deep voice filling the quiet solar. “You’ll not promise a destination. You’ll not endorse my lowland relocation plan. You’ll not accept Master Dret’s compilation sheets without personal proof. You agree only to conduct an objective, technical survey of Stonewake Citadel’s current physical condition.”
“Current physical condition only,” Kezra confirmed, her voice steady as a weighted drop-line. “I’ll record the exact dimensions of the bedrock stone base. I’ll document every attached building that crosses the legal boundary line. I’ll go down into your lower shafts to verify the load-bearing continuity of the rock down to the five-hundred-and-twelve-pace depth. And when the check is finished, I’ll present you with a plain building report detailing what’s sound, what’s flawed, and what’s impossible.”
Captain Hest Vale stepped forward, her iron breastplate gleaming in the firelight. “Marshal, with respect, this agreement binds the map maker to nothing. We’re opening our gates, exposing our internal defenses, and providing food to Alderfast, while she reserves the right to walk away the moment her report is delivered.”
