A Standard Raised

A fallen marker demanded attention near the fringe of the rug. It was a woven bookmark, embroidered with sharp geometric heraldry and anchored by a weighty brass tassel. I grasped the braided cord and hauled it toward the base of the book column. Straining against the friction of the dense carpet weave, I hoisted the brass seal upright, wedging it firmly into the crevice between the bottom two volumes. It stands vertical now, rigid and unyielding. An outpost requires a proper standard before nightfall. The sector is formally secured.