The western bells started clanging while Vella tied off the last fold of Hajin's shoulder wrap beside the reception hall.
Closure gates slammed down across the damaged approaches as guards herded workers and courtiers clear of the falling palace seals. Hajin sat on Vella's reception bench beneath the secured dressing, his injured right wrist propped carefully below the throbbing joint.
She cinched the final knot with her good hand, keeping the numb fingers of her probe hand well away.
"That shoulder stays wrapped until I clear it," she ordered, peering at the gray pathways beneath the dressing's edge, "and you sit the moment they start enjoying the sound of their own authority."
"So I'm sitting forever, got it."
Hajin rested his burned left knuckles on the bench and pointedly offered nobody a handshake.
Juna dumped his Chain and spare tools beside Ferra's numbered cases, then planted herself on his uninjured side, tail swishing.
