The oath began without me.
That was why it mattered.
People liked to imagine rebellion started with speeches, banners, blades raised under moonlight, someone beautiful saying no in a voice history would later polish.
This one began with laundry twine.
Gray laundry twine, to be precise, knotted around the handle of a service door beneath Obsidian Dormitory's east stairwell.
Ren found it after evening bell.
He had been returning from Mrs. Vale's laundry office with a stack of copied Support Witness definitions, three altered service schedules, and one paper bag of biscuits no one admitted were payment. Niko walked beside him, arguing that corridor acoustics could be used to detect hidden observers if one had enough spoons.
Ren did not ask why spoons kept appearing in Niko's theories.
Some doors in life were better left closed.
Then he saw the knot.
Gray twine.
Three loops.
One tail tucked under.
Servant code.
Not emergency.
Not danger.
Gather.
Ren stopped.
