Dawn on Day 127 broke cold, grey, and still. A thin veil of high cirrus clouds softened the morning sun into a pearl-white disc. That kept the wind low and the air crisp across the vast expanse of Empty Choir.
At first light, all four climbers gathered at the northwest corner benchmark, armed with iron spades, wire brooms, crowbars, and measuring tapes. Their task was straightforward, unglamorous, and absolutely vital to the survival of Alderfast. Exposing the entire thousand-pace length of Yseld’s buried bedrock curb along the true western boundary line.
Voss took the lead with his heavy crowbar. Working step by step from north to south, he pried up the compacted turf and gravel that had piled up over the ancient cut. Wherever a flat stone slab from the later outer mule-apron touched the true curb, he tested it with a sharp blow of his hammer.
“Here’s one,” Voss called out at pace 140.
Four flat granite slabs, laid across the seam by a long-dead wagon driver to create a smooth ramp for wheelbarrows, crossed directly over the boundary line. If left in place, their attached weight would have bridged the upright separation plane, invalidating the sign-off.
Voss wedged his crowbar beneath the first slab, put his full weight onto the lever. Then he popped the stone free with a dull crunch. Together with Yseld, he slid all four ramp slabs wholly onto the outer porch, three paces outside the true boundary line, ensuring that the upright clearance plane…
