The High Senate Chamber smelled of beeswax polish, dried lavender, and three hundred years of dry parchment. It was a tiered arena carved from white mountain marble, high above the river mists. There, the sound of rushing water was reduced to a soft, polite murmur beneath the heavy cedar ceiling beams.
Pella Rook sat on the fifth tier of curved benches, her cowhide cart driver boots resting flat on the spotless white stone. Beside her sat Eren Tal. It held an iron-banded wooden crate on his knees. Sister Merrow, whose scarred fingers rested heavily on the brass crook of her ash cane. Across their laps lay clean linen sheets covering the fractured bronze drain tubes and the cold melted rock waste from the Crown’s third exhaust collar.
Below them, on the sunken floor of the tiered arena, sat the seven members of the Municipal Review Council. At the center of the long crescent desk sat Councilor Elna Vesk, wearing the heavy silver collar of the Civic Board. Her gray hair was pulled back in a severe, functional twist. Her dark eyes were scanning the thick stack of bound depositions before her.
To her right, seated in the low wooden docket reserved for civil respondents, was Davin Sorell.
