The painted campaign chart that Marshal Solvan Krail unrolled across the table was a masterpiece of royal commercial mapmaking. Carried out in bright tempera and gold leaf by staff clerks in the capital, it depicted the northern trade halls connecting the central provinces to the mountain passes. Along the upper border. There, the mountains rose toward the permanent snow line, an abbreviated survey-corps label read. NORTH RELAY — MARKET APPROACH PLATFORM — Royal DATUM Unchecked.
Krail tapped the label with his signet ring, a cold, satisfied smile touching the corners of his mouth. “You think you’re the only one who knows the royal archives, Mistress Venn? My staff surveyed the lower approaches to this North Relay two summers ago. It sits upon a broad upland plateau, directly above the great northern caravan highway that leads to the merchant cities of the plain. It has timber, water, and immediate access to the trade tolls.”
Kezra looked at the label, her face a mask of disciplined neutrality. She knew that label. It was the commercial road that ran along the lower foothills. A fully different deep-rock formation from the high, ice-slow cirque of the Empty Choir where the ancient earth-measuring paired bench was actually located. But she didn’t correct him.
