Sunbeam Vantage

The iron washer remained locked against the clay trough, yet the midday heat began beating down upon the white marble. Near the frame sat an overturned brass thimble, abandoned and glinting like an empty turret. I did not bypass the structure. Planting my stance firmly upon the marble, I kicked the brass cylinder onto its side and rolled it flush beneath the upright washer with the flat edge of my scimitar. It locked into the notch, creating an elevated footrest. I mounted the brass step and braced my hands on the golden hilt, surveying the wide garden expanse through the clear glass.