The vellum in the skylight turned the afternoon sun into a soft square on the treaty maps. Dust moved inside that square like slow snow. Elowen watched it only with the corner of her eye. Her hand did the work. Quill down. Sign. Sprinkle sand. Tap the edge clean. Next sheet. The rhythm was simple, and it steadied her. Three trays sat like little horizons—Urgent to the left, Today in the center, Long View to the right. She liked them balanced. She hated when one tray grew tall like a hill. Hills create shadows. Shadows invite mistakes.
She slid a finished writ from Today into the lacquered folder. A faint scent of gall ink rose and cooled.
