CHAPTER V
THE COST OF WITNESS
By midday, Frostgate had learned how to listen.
It listened from windows. From behind shutters not fully closed. From the spaces between stalls where merchants pretended to rearrange wares already set. The city did not speak loudly, but it repeated what little it heard until repetition became truth.
Luciel left the council hall without escort.
That was noticed.
Jayden followed a step behind, his presence less deliberate, his expression less guarded.
"You gave them nothing," Jayden said once they reached the outer walk.
Luciel did not slow.
"I gave them a record."
"They wanted direction."
"They wanted absolution," Luciel replied. "Direction would have implied intent."
Jayden frowned.
"And now."
"Now they choose their own interpretations," Luciel said. "Which is far more revealing."
Snow slid from the edge of a roof as they passed beneath it. No one reacted. The sound was too common. Too easily dismissed.
At the western stair, Logan waited.
"They are already misquoting you," he said.
Luciel allowed himself the faintest breath of amusement.
"Good."
Logan studied him.
"You mean to see who lies first."
"No," Luciel said. "I mean to see who lies well."
Jayden stopped walking.
"That is not comforting."
"It should not be," Luciel replied. "Comfort delays honesty."
They reached the parapet overlooking the lower wards. From here, Frostgate looked unchanged. Stone and snow. Smoke rising in steady columns. Order maintained by habit rather than decree.
Logan rested his hands on the wall.
"The riders from the south have split," he said. "One group took the river road. Another turned east before dawn."
Jayden's attention sharpened.
"And the third."
Logan looked at Luciel.
"Still here."
Luciel nodded.
"Where."
"In the city," Logan said. "Quietly placed. No insignia. No pattern."
Jayden shook his head.
"So they are waiting."
Luciel corrected him.
"They are watching."
"For what."
Luciel's gaze remained on the city below.
"For who breaks first."
A bell rang. Not civic. Not tower.
Smaller. Private.
Logan turned his head.
"That is the Hall of Records."
Jayden stiffened.
"No one called session."
Luciel pushed away from the wall.
"They will say it was procedural."
Logan straightened.
"And if it was not."
Luciel met his eyes.
"Then we learn who believes procedure is protection."
They moved through the streets again, their passage noted but not acknowledged. A city learns quickly when not to stare.
At the Hall of Records, the doors stood open. Inside, the air was colder. Stone preserved memory better than warmth ever could.
Three clerks stood at the central desk. None spoke when Luciel entered.
A fourth rose from the benches.
"Lord Vaelor," he said. "You are not summoned."
Luciel inclined his head.
"Then this is fortunate," he said. "I dislike obligation."
The man hesitated.
"We are conducting a review."
"Of."
"Recent entries."
Luciel stepped closer.
"Records are only reviewed," he said, "when someone wishes to revise the order of events."
The clerk swallowed.
Jayden watched the benches. Faces half familiar. Ward captains. A guild treasurer. Two men who had been present the night before when the wagons entered.
Logan's voice was quiet.
"You are counting witnesses."
The clerk stiffened.
"We are ensuring accuracy."
Luciel's reply was measured.
"Accuracy is determined by proximity," he said. "And intent."
He turned to the benches.
"Who here was present when the southern convoy entered Frostgate."
No one spoke.
Luciel waited.
Then one man stood. Slowly.
"I was," he said. "At the outer gate."
Luciel nodded.
"Then you will be remembered," he said, "as someone who did not hide."
The man's shoulders loosened slightly. Not relief. Recognition.
Luciel turned back to the clerks.
"Proceed," he said. "But understand this."
He gestured once to the chamber.
"Every correction has a cost. And every omission creates a debt."
Silence followed him as he turned away.
Outside, Jayden exhaled.
"That was dangerous."
Luciel answered without looking back.
"No," he said. "That was necessary."
Logan fell into step beside them.
"They will accelerate now."
Luciel nodded.
"Yes."
"And when the Crown hears."
"They will ask who spoke first," Luciel said. "And who merely recorded."
Jayden looked ahead, the city stretching before them.
"And which is worse."
Luciel did not answer immediately.
When he did, his voice was low.
"That depends," he said, "on who survives the telling."
Above them, clouds gathered, heavy with more snow.
Frostgate continued its careful routines. Bread baked. Ledgers filled. Doors closed at the proper hours.
But beneath all of it, something irreversible had begun.
The city was no longer deciding what it believed.
It was deciding what it was willing to witness.