Dream d2868-s: Seven for the Fitting

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where the smell of tallow reached me before the door did - not the hall yet, only its breath coming through the gap as the Usher drew the latch.

Lano was at my shin in the courtyard, one ear cocked toward the warmth beyond. She had been circling the flagstone near the south wall for the better part of the evening, nose at the seams, but now she pressed close.

The Keeper of the Charter was already at the long table when I entered, the document spread before her - seven rulings across it, none of them new, none of them lifted. Seven faces were arranged in a cedar box to her left. Each face was a mask of governance trust: not remembered from any prior night, but cut fresh from the results of trial. Seven orders of task the house measured. Six of the faces, the Keeper said without ceremony, sat flush with their measure. One had moved.

The Recorder stood near the east wall with the bound ledger. Nine hundred fifteen medals. Nineteen guests. Nine orders of deed. Not one entry altered since its striking. A medal records a deed already witnessed, struck once, and left where it fell. A correction is only ever a new medal laid beside the old. They only accumulate.

I read the note beside the moved face while Lano sat at my feet. Rurik, amber-eyed, had taken the warm chair nearest the fire and claimed it as his own. The moved face held a station closed to it. Of eight trials, it had passed four. The others had passed more.

The mismatch was noted. It would be noted again tonight. The house does not explain a mismatch, nor grade one, nor assign blame. It sets the record down beside the thing it disagrees with and leaves both standing.

The deeds were settled. The trust for tonight was not.

The guest was already seated. The Keeper's hand rested at the edge of the cedar box.

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