It wasn't a sigil. Not a crest or some flashy projection. Just a simple balance scale—plain, precise, and clean enough to stand on its own.
No embellishments, no hidden meaning, only what it was.
"A pact was made," the Dean began, her voice still as steady as it had been from the first moment she stepped onto the platform.
"Years ago, between the strongest factions, groups powerful enough to destroy cities if they wanted to, including the Domain Holders."
She finally turned fully toward the students, her expression unreadable, her stance relaxed but never careless.
The air in the amphitheater didn't shift from her movement alone, but from something underneath the words she was about to say.
"There was one law," she said, "recognized not just by human society, but by monsters, by remnants of the old guilds, even by cults who barely listen to anything anymore."
She didn't raise her voice. She didn't dramatize the moment.
"Civilians," she said, "are not prey."
