The infirmary conference room smelled like boiled linen and ink. No banners, no seals, just a long table, six chairs, a ledger as thick as a brick, and a metal tray for sealed evidence bags. Windows were shuttered. Two guards waited outside with their helmets tucked under their arms. They stared straight ahead like the door had asked them a question.
Liora sat at the head, hair pale as the light peeking around the shutters, soft blue eyes steady. Pierce took the far end with a stack of slates. Dorian stood to the right wall, still as furniture. Mira, Cael, and I took the side seats. A scribe from the Watch dipped a pen and did not look up again.
"Plain language," Liora said. "No speeches. No guesses. What you did, what you saw, what you can prove. Start."
