The Crown Archive
Beneath the palace’s east wing lies the Crown Archive — a low-ceilinged vault of dark oak shelving and suffocating order. Reached by a narrow stone stair and sealed behind a heavy iron door, the chamber feels less like a library and more like a buried memory.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves press inward from every direction, their aged wood bowed slightly under the weight of folio cases, scroll tubes, and tightly bound ledgers. Everything is arranged by a precise color-and-symbol system decipherable only to Seraphine, the archive’s quiet master.
Candlelight flickers from iron wall sconces, casting long, fractured shadows through the shelving rows. The only open space is a small central clearing with a sturdy reading table scarred by ink stains and sealing wax. At the rear wall, recessed into cold stone, sits a second locked cabinet known as the Sealed Drawer. The air smells of dust, wax, and parchment — dry, fragile, and dangerously flammable. Every step here feels intrusive, as though the archive itself resents being disturbed.
Intended Use:
The Crown Archive is designed for high-stakes infiltration, desperate document retrieval, or claustrophobic close-quarters combat. The tight shelving rows create natural lanes and blind corners, turning the space into a maze of partial sightlines and ambush opportunities. With the low ceiling preventing clean swings of two-handed weapons and larger creatures struggling through cramped aisles, positioning and weapon choice matter immediately. Combat here is less about brute force and more about control of space.
