The morning after Vhar's movement evaluation, Dema led him through a locked passage behind the First Measure Academy registry.
"Ilven is inside," she said. "He asked me to bring you before breakfast ended because the House packet arrived with yesterday's post."
Vhar adjusted the crossed scabbards between his shoulders. "Did the packet eat?"
Dema glanced back at him. "No, although it has already ruined three people's morning."
The windowless room beyond the last door held a long table, four chairs, and two futures for Vhar's body.
At one end lay the offering sheet from House Talvern, its final column recording him as consumed in exchange for three measures of grain. At the other sat a floor drawing weighted at the corners by iron bolts. It showed a square test frame, a chain-fed arm, and a pit beneath the central load.
Between them, Reader Ilven had opened the padded evidence box.
The bent brass rod from the collar rested inside beside burned cords and pieces of blackened fastening metal. Vhar recognized the shallow groove where the restraint had pressed beneath his jaw. His skin remembered the pressure before his hand reached the table.
An Academy records woman sat across from Ilven. Gray hair was braided close against her head, and black ink remained in the grooves around her fingernails despite careful washing.
"Leave your blades beside the chair," she said. "The evidence remains on the table, and no one touches it without my hand present."
Vhar slipped the shoulder strap free and placed Radrazh and Ulqor against the wall within reach. He sat without taking his attention from the collar remains.
The records woman drew the box closer. "Can you identify what touched you and what you only saw afterward?"
Vhar indicated the bent rod without lifting it. "That rested beneath my jaw. The black cord entered through the collar at the left side, while the brass fastening behind it tightened when the warden used the control handle."
She compared his answer with the guard's statement. "He could only describe what he saw from the door, so I needed your position inside it."
"The collar hid the fastening against my neck," Vhar said. "I felt it tighten on the left."
Dema stopped pouring water. Ilven leaned over the box. A dark mark on the bent fastening matched the raw line that still crossed Vhar's neck.
The records woman took a measuring strip from her sleeve, held it beside the bruise without touching him, and wrote the length in the margin. "That is why the person inside the evidence room speaks before the witness outside it."
Vhar looked at the burned cord. "It stopped tightening when the force went back through the warden's hand."
"I can record the stop, the broken fastening, and his injury," she said. "Whatever caused the reversal remains beyond an Academy instrument unless you choose to ."
The distinction left his private Bloodforge untouched while preserving what the room could prove.
The sealed House Talvern packet waited near the records woman's elbow. Red wax carried the ninth-branch mark.
"Their office asked us to preserve the offering sheet, the collar, and the witness accounts for a joint review," she said. "They did not ask for your person because the road record already places you alive beyond the final House post."
Vhar touched the bruised skin below his jaw. "This is smaller than the recovery order they sent before."
"It came from their record office," Ilven said. "Treat it as one official trying not to repeat the same disaster, because the elders have not shown us their decision yet."
The records woman broke the wax.
SNAP!
She unfolded the petition while Vhar watched the ninth-branch seal split across both halves. After reading the first page, she turned it so he could see the signature line. The same office mark appeared beneath the completion entry on the offering sheet.
"This person verified your death and filed the request preserving the evidence that disproves it," she said. "That contradiction has now crossed the Academy registry under his own seal."
Vhar looked from the signature to the brass rod. House Talvern had reduced him to a line, yet the device meant to force that line into truth had returned with him.
"Can the sheet still decide whether I stay here?"
"It decides what we must investigate, not whether you are alive." The records woman moved the offering sheet beside the collar. "Its final result is false, but it still records the chamber, the ninth branch, the priest, the grain payment, and every official who handled the rite, so the names around that lie remain useful."
Ilven added Vhar's folded movement reading to the table. A grain of sand still clung to the wax edge.
"This is why I called you in," he said. "You arrived with restraint injuries, although yesterday you stopped the weighted arm without sending it into another entrant's lane. I need to know what happens when the load increases before I place people beside you in a field trial."
Dema poured water while Vhar unfolded the floor drawing. The four iron feet sat inside a black circle, and low posts joined by rope enclosed the square. Each corner lever followed a separate line to the pit beneath the load.
"Nobody enters the square with me?" he asked.
"No," Ilven said. "The safety staff remain outside the rope. Any one of the four levers can drop the weight into the pit, and the hall is cleared before you arrive."
Vhar traced the chain from the jointed arm to the buried stone box. "Who adds the weight?"
The records woman indicated a second handle beyond the rope. "The yard official, and only while the frame stays inside its marked line. You may stop at any point. Staff will also stop it if the apparatus fails or your movement stops giving them a useful reading."
"Will anyone from House Talvern be behind the rope?"
"No one from House Talvern will enter the hall," Ilven said. "Their petition stays on this table while Academy staff conduct the test."
Vhar examined the drawing again. It did not ask him to trust a hidden room or an unseen hand. He could identify where each person would stand, which lever each could reach, and where the load would fall if the machine broke. The frame was not harmless, although its danger had a visible body.
The records woman set one iron bolt upright on the drawing. "The test records what the hall witnesses: your entry into contact, the path of the load, the boundary, and your recovery after release. It cannot read the source of your strength, and the report will not pretend otherwise."
"What does the test change?"
Ilven leaned back enough to ease the stiffness in his shoulders. "A stable result opens supervised field access. Refusing keeps your room and meals while the review continues, although I cannot place you in a dangerous lane beside other entrants until I know what your body does under a greater load."
The two futures remained on the table. House Talvern's page declared that his body had already served its purpose. The Academy drawing offered movement, risk, and witnesses, but it also showed every hand allowed near the machine.
Vhar had spent enough time waiting for other people to decide what his body meant.
"Put me in the frame," he said.
The records woman moved the upright bolt away from the center of the drawing. "After the midday meal. We need time to clear the hall and bring the safety staff from the lower yard."
Vhar reached toward the offering sheet, stopping before his fingers touched it. "I want a copy before I leave this room."
She opened the side cabinet and removed a thin envelope that had already been prepared. "The original remains in evidence. This reproduction carries the Academy seal across the text so nobody can quietly replace it with the House version."
The copied page felt rougher beneath Vhar's thumb. His name, the grain measure, and the words recording his consumption remained visible beneath a pale blue Academy stamp.
Another institution had not erased the lie. It had marked the lie as something people were now required to face.
Dema handed him a narrow receiving slip. "The registry kept this from the courier's copy. House Talvern knows the corridor evidence survived, and somebody waited at our desk until the receipt was marked."
Vhar read the time beside the receiving stamp. "They already sent men with a collar meant to drag me back. Paper is just what got here first this time."
"Most likely," Ilven said, looking toward the collar remnants. "That's proof enough of what they'll try. Now the Academy has this collar and yesterday's movement reading to set against it."
The records woman separated the documents again, sliding the offering sheet into one sleeve and the petition into another. "Eat, keep the ribs warm, and report to the lower test hall when the midday bell finishes. Bring the copied page if you want it entered with your admission record afterward."
Vhar tucked the envelope inside his shirt, where the paper lay flat against his chest. He settled Radrazh and Ulqor across his back, checked the strap beneath his right hand, and walked to the door.
Dema opened it onto the registry passage. The smell of breakfast still drifted from the public hall, and beyond it came the scrape of benches, running feet, and an instructor calling the next yard group into line.
"Dining hall first," she said. "The test frame will not be offended if you arrive fed."
"It sounds less sensitive than the records office."
"Everything is less sensitive than the records office."
Vhar followed her toward the meal hall with the proof of his recorded death under his shirt. After the midday bell, he would carry that same living body into the lower test hall and give the Academy an answer House Talvern could not write in advance.