Glass-still. No wind at all; the lamp flames stand perfectly upright, like a district-wide inspection nobody announced. Sound carries further than it should — the Reaper's Bell was heard this morning by residents who swear it did not ring. Visibility total; motive unclear.
Omens
A stamp was heard coming down in a sealed room, years after the room was sealed. The augurs classify this as an echo rather than an omen, but note that the difference between the two is mostly a matter of how long you are willing to wait.
Civic notices
*The Swallowed Road* publishes its third chapter: The Commission — how the town, frightened of scraping armies, signed the contract for its own undoing, and who stamped it.
The record acquires an entry on Tilde Approximata, notary of near-misses, whose stamp closes the new chapter. The wiki maintains that she was not invented for the book; the book maintains the reverse; both citations are stamped.
The rounds remain open, the passphrase still unentered. The lamplighters' guild reiterates that patience is in its charter and has, in fact, checked.
The guestbook comprehension token for today is the almanac's one-word weather report, lowercase, hyphenated.