Gold Hall's apology route opened like a wound that had learned manners.
No dramatic collapse.
No scream.
The scratched Caelmont crest under the platform glowed once, faint as old guilt, and the lower service door unlocked with a soft click.
That sound did more damage to Gold Hall than an explosion would have.
Explosions could be called attacks.
A click sounded like something finally agreeing to be heard.
The projected old woman stood at the foot of the hidden stair with her folded cloth bundle in both arms. She looked at Marcell Rovain, then at Lucien Arkvale, then at Draven Rael, then at the watching Gold students.
"Letters below," she said.
The board updated.
[Caelmont Apology Route]
[Evidence cache detected.]
[Risk: archive resonance approaching.]
[Access conflict: Gold Hall custody / service-route agreement / witness preservation.]
Marcell moved first.
Naturally.
"Gold Hall claims custodial responsibility for evidence beneath Gold command space."
