The private ancestral hall of the Alder family sat deep within the oldest taproots of the capital.
Massive root trunks curved overhead like vault ribs, holding back centuries of damp soil without stone masonry.
At the center of the hall, a long council table bore the carved names of hundreds of fallen kinsmen.
Eirwen led the company inside, while the household guards barred the municipal clerks outside to prevent intrusive political records.
Six elder veterans in repaired enameled armor stood along the perimeter, their eyes fixed on the empty seat.
Three family elders sat at the head of the table beneath banners faded by decades of border warfare.
An aunt with silver braids unrolled a frayed parchment map, studying Hajin with piercing, contemplative scrutiny.
"We requested the man who travels beside our envoy, yet the Court dispatched a husband, defender, and general," she said.
