
In 2851 a moon changes hands in the largest private conveyance in settled space — Vantage in the brochure, Copeland b-IV in the catalog, “the moon” in every mouth that lives on it. Signatures in twelve inks, one wax signet, and a boilerplate line nobody reads: assignee accepts assignment as is. Five years run from that closing to the founding festival: four thousand buyers who ordered a world the way you would order from a catalog, crews promised different work than the work, engineers who grew dragons under license — and one animal off the bench — and a warden's almanac that keeps what no registry tracks. The sky misbehaves on schedule. The moon was cheap for a reason nobody could read at the signing. Book One ends inside the festival's triumph — the flight, the fire, and five years of notice sitting in the record.
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