Inspection of the Iron Bastion

Dawn pierced the archive summit, demanding a full muster of our vanguard before the descent. I marched along the charted perimeter to inspect the heavy metal compass pinned against our map. The joint was rigid, holding the parchment flat without waver. To test its resolve, I gripped the curved brass hinge with both gauntlets and hoisted myself upward, hanging my full weight upon the steel frame. It groaned faintly against the mahogany grain but did not budge a fraction. The anchor holds. The path outward remains secure under my supreme order.