They put Eli’s chair where everyone could see whether he agreed.
He recognized the intention before he reached it. The council room had no throne, no raised platform, only mismatched tables brought into a repaired municipal chamber. Yet his place stood between the security coalition’s map and Juno’s inspection sheets, as if the space itself had already decided whose answer would end the argument.
He moved the chair back into the line with the other witnesses.
A council worker looked alarmed. “You won’t be able to hear.”
“I can hear from here.”
She glanced toward the senior hunters and left it where he put it.
The coalition’s speaker began with a dead defender.
An anchor could be attacked. A shift could fail because an exhausted volunteer misunderstood a connection. A local commander could see danger coming before a mixed council had finished deciding who could ask a question. The speaker did not invent those risks. Eli had watched a gate left with reduced defenses so a regulator could cool. He had seen the liaison try to demand more from an operator who had reached her limit because the next channel still needed strength.
