Lucan carefully unrolled a fragile, yellowed vellum scroll preserved inside a lead cylinder from the lowest archive vault.
Lucan weighed the curling corners of the vellum beneath two clean brass weights so the child could read the charcoal script without touching it.
Unlike the pompous royal edicts written in gilded ink, this document was inscribed in delicate, flowing charcoal script.
The child stood on tiptoe beside the desk, her eyes widening as she gazed upon the faded handwriting.
"This is not a proclamation from the royal chancery," the scholar whispered reverently, examining the fiber with his magnifying lens.
"This text was written by the first dragon-daughter herself, penned in her own hand five hundred years ago."
"What does it say, scholar?" Ferra asked, leaning over the table while holding a fresh mug of morning coffee.
"It is a legal covenant of formal refusal," Hajin translated, his sovereign perception tracing the faded strokes of charcoal ink.
