The council chamber was cold despite the braziers. The councillors sat in their usual seats, their robes arranged, their faces composed. But the tension in the room was sharper than usual. Rumours had been spreading since dawn—whispers of an arrest, a confession, a confrontation that would change everything.
Akastos was already in his seat when Lysander entered. The old councillor's face was calm, his hands folded on the table. He looked like a man who had nothing to fear. He looked like a man who was still in control.
Hector stood at the head of the table. "Bring him in."
The doors opened, and two of Miros's men escorted Pelion into the chamber. The harbour guard was pale, his hands trembling, his eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal. When he saw Akastos, he flinched.
"Pelion," Hector said. "You have information for this council. Speak."
