Chapter 173 - The Counter-Entry

The Vault measured time differently than the plain. Outside, men planned in tidy columns and inked their intentions into device-tables that clicked like teeth. Inside, the hours were counted in low hums, the shifting of palimpsest dust in a shaft of light, the soft scrape of fingers over carved stone. Where ledgers sought deadlines, the Vault wanted story: patient, folded, and dangerous in its own slow ways.