The deep archive vault beneath the municipal library smelled of ancient parchment, tallow smoke, and oxidized bronze filings.
Lucan knelt upon the cracked floor, holding an etched brass magnifying loupe over a scorched boiler plate.
Beside him, Cessy extended a single curved obsidian claw, tracing four jagged runic inscriptions gouged into the metal.
"These are not imperial military stamps..." she growled, her feline eyes reflecting the amber lantern light.
"They belong to two completely separate factions fighting for control of the municipal engine," Lucan reported with scholarly precision.
"Two factions?" he asked, stepping closer to the drafting table with his five celestial rings hovering in quiet orbits.
"Look at the contradictory pressure vectors etched into the second and third runes," the archivist pointed out with a trembling stylus.
"The northern mark obeys the theological doctrine of the Concord inquisitors!"
