Tower Of London: No One Stopped Us

Armor Field Note: Tower of London, London, England

The Tower has seen more treachery than a Sith academy.

Standing before Traitor's Gate, I appreciate the efficiency of medieval justice. No lengthy trials, no appeals process. Just a boat ride through these stone arches and whatever came next. The tourists around me seem less aware of the historical weight, more concerned with photographing the weathered stones through their barrier fence.

The Yeoman Warders draw considerable attention in their ceremonial dress. One passes nearby, his Tudor uniform commanding more respect from the crowd than most planetary governors manage. I note the irony that in a place where armor once determined survival, I'm the only one actually wearing any. The ravens perched along the battlements seem more practical than the visitors—they at least understand territorial defense.

HK7335 calculates optimal siege positions while I observe the Crown Jewels exhibition. The security measures are thorough, if predictable. Armed officers maintain professional distance, though I catch one studying my plates with the expression of someone trying to solve a technical problem. The display cases hold regalia that once legitimized entire dynasties. Now they're museum pieces behind bulletproof glass, guarded by men with modern weapons who would have been peasants in the Tower's prime.

The Thames flows beneath the gate as it has for centuries, carrying away secrets and carrying in the condemned. Tour groups cluster at the barriers, straining for photos of the archway where Anne Boleyn and Thomas More passed through. Their guides recite dates and details with practiced enthusiasm.

The gift shop sells plastic swords and foam shields to children whose ancestors might have trembled at this gate. Times change, but stone endures better than most governments.