By the Forgeday morning of Year 476, the east corridor of the Crucible's administrative wing had eleven stairs and a room at the top that nobody used anymore.
A junior records clerk from Veldrath on her first month of duty was still orienting herself by the smells of different corridors. The east corridor carried the heavy scent of limestone and lamp oil. The western hall smelled of glue. She tried the east shortcut. She found the room at the top entirely empty.
