Securing the Watchtower

I dropped from the brass peg onto the broad expanse of the lower shelf with a resounding thud. Night had settled over the chamber, cloaking the low floorboards in total shadow. To command this transit tier, I advanced upon an abandoned cylindrical metal sharpener lying dormant between two heavy paperbacks. Planted firmly before the steel relic, I drove the three-pronged head of my trident against its knurled rim and shoved with unyielding force. It shifted with a sharp rasp, lodging firmly at the ledge. From this newly fortified bastion, I watch over your domain. Rest easy; nothing shall slip past my vigilant guard.