The morning of Day 111 dawned crisp, quiet, and smelling of frost-shattered limestone and woodsmoke. For the first time in ninety days, no scout horns blew along the northern cliffs. No crossbow quarrels clattered against the garden low roof walls. The thirty-foot granite berm stood unmoving across the northern defile. It held Captain Hest Vale’s pikes at bay two miles away. Meanwhile, the basin of Alderfast woke to its first full day behind stone.
Kezra Venn walked down the terraced path toward the southern quarry, her breath misting in the cold air. Her wool coat was buttoned tight across her chest, protecting the bonded survey notebook beneath her breastbone. She reached inside to touch the waxed leather cover. Then, the internal ledger felt cold and fully silent.
Across every scale in her book—from Quarter down to Step—the dark slate-grey cooldown bar was locked in place: COOLDOWN: 6 DAYS Leftover. For the next six days, until the sun set on Day 117, she had no more class power than the simplest weaver in the cottages. She couldn’t shift an inch of dirt, and she couldn’t call an anchor.
At the southern quarry, the newly arrived rock cut met the older basin trail. The two Quarter parcels had approved within half a handspan of legal limit. Even so, a four-inch upright step of raw limestone still marked the eastern and western seams where the two-hundred-and-fifty-six-pace square joined the mountain. To an unencumbered land-mapper on foot, a four-inch ledge was merely a nuisance…
