A Standard Held

Night required a secure emblem atop the dark side cabinet. Beside the upright ceramic beast sat a heavy brass signet ring, cast aside carelessly on its curved band. Unanchored relics invite chaos. Setting my boots against the polished veneer, I lowered my shield and slid the square haft of my hammer directly through the ring's circular bore. With a measured upward thrust, I hoisted the dense brass weight until it slid snugly over the flat poll of my hammer. It rests there rigid, balanced and unmoving. Duty requires a marked bastion before sleep.