The Plain Facts, Carved
What It Is
Told in the Seanchaí Tradition
The Build Story
The elder scribes cut the same warning twice when a stone mattered — once in the old angular hand, all straight lines and under-cutting, and once in the smoother hand of the sons — and stood both carvings in the same churchyard, because the first telling is owed its ground. This stone is the first telling: the battery sentinel's first shape, cut while the watch was still learning its own voice, its name written in the older script with the hard underscores between the words, the way the old hand did not spare the chisel. The house listened, learned to trust the cry, and in time the name was smoothed and the stone recut — the younger sentinel standing in the same yard now under the easier name. But the elder carving was never taken down. It still keeps the all-seeing watch of its lineage under every dying battery in the house, and the household — being descended of tellers — knows that the first rune of any watch is a relic, not a rough draft. The moss grows deeper in the old letters, the way moss does in deeper cuts.