Ash stood before the grand assembly of municipal elders, wearing his patched wool tunic and his bronze refusal bracelet upon his left wrist.
The elders kept their hands folded over the voting benches while Ash faced the empty cradle seat without asking anyone to speak for him.
Behind him, the massive mechanical cradle loomed like a dormant iron beast, its empty seat waiting for an occupant who would never come.
"I will help carry the water buckets..." the young boy began, his voice ringing clear and steady across the assembled tiers.
"And I will help the bakers gather kindling for the morning ovens whenever the winter snow falls."
"The lineage requires a permanent sovereign custodian to lock the mountain wards!" an elder magistrate called from the upper bench.
"If I sit upon that chair, I can never walk out the door to see the flowers bloom," Ash replied, shaking his head.
"The mountain built a seat, and Ash refuses to become furniture!"
