Dawn broke over the high peaks of the Spine with a pale, cold bright glare that rimmed every stone battle-coping in silver frost. By the time the morning bell sounded from the keep tower on Day 102, the service wards of Stonewake Citadel were already alive with the sharp clatter of iron buckets, the smell of woodsmoke. The muffled shouts of wagon drivers yoking mules in the freezing gloom.
Kezra stepped out of the guest quarters into the lower ward. She drew her wool scarf snug beneath her collar. In her right hand she carried the heavy brass sounding rod. Its polished heel shone dully in the gray morning light. Across her shoulder hung the leather map case containing her quarter-grid slates. Beside her, Fellis adjusted the splint on his wrist, blowing on his bare knuckles to warm them. Meanwhile, Yseld walked with her hickory staff planted with deliberate power on the frost-slicked cobbles.
“We begin the inside transects today,” Kezra said, pausing at the threshold of the lower lane to let her eyes adjust to the bustle. “A parcel isn’t merely an outer edge fence. To map a royal Horizon parcel, the inside space must be quartered into four discrete survey quadrants, each five hundred and twelve paces on a side. That means every alley, every cellar vault, and every outbuilding must be crossed and accounted for.”
