Chapter 115 - The Logician’s Hand

The three carriages of the Royal Oversight Committee did not rumble into the quad with the aggressive clatter of the Foundation's occupation. They arrived with a slow, deliberate grace, their iron-shod wheels crunching softly on the frozen gravel. These were not vehicles meant for war; they were mobile offices, sleek and unadorned, finished in a dark lacquer that seemed to swallow the morning light. As the doors opened, the Royal Scouts snapped to attention, their spear-butts hitting the stone in a single, hollow thud.