Formal robes of the Crimson Veil arrived the morning after the demonstration.
They were deep crimson, cut for movement rather than ceremony, and marked at the collar with a simple open hand worked in darker thread. Lady Sable's people delivered them without comment. We put them on because guest status without the visible sign of it would only create friction in a city that ran on clear signals.
The Bone City settled around us in a new way once the robes were on. Constructs of living bone still tracked our movement, but the quality of their attention changed from wary to cataloguing. Ordinary citizens nodded instead of staring. Disciples on the training terraces made space when Vale or I passed. The three days of temporary protection had become something more permanent, and the city adjusted accordingly.
We used the access we had been given.
