The Curved Dais

I wiped the faint trace of garden chalk from my greaves against the linen runner before stepping toward the open mahogany watch box. Its glass lid stood tilted back on polished brass hinges, exposing partitioned chambers lined with dense charcoal velvet. Inside the center alcove rested an empty cylindrical watch cushion, upholstered in taut fabric. Rather than mounting another rigid guard, I stepped over the low divider and eased my back against the rounded bolster. The velvet compressed smoothly beneath my backplate, cradling my draped cape in complete symmetry. My gauntlets rest upon the plush rim. Protocol permits total repose.