We set the evidence chain at the spire base like Liora taught: bag to tray, seal; tray to ledger, sign; ledger to lockbox, witness. No speeches. No guesses. Only what we saw.
Liora read my wording and nodded once. "Good—'vane twitch when Mira leaned, corrected with pick, two-count, no torque.' Keep writing like that."
Mira held up the vial bag. "Cork cut has a draw-knife shear line," she said. "Not city stock. And the badge-ring's break is clean. Snapped with a bar, not worn."
"Write it," Liora said. "Marker, not theory."
Dorian stepped close enough to be heard and not feel like he was announcing. "Your flow feels heavier in the heels," he said to me. "Your clicks are cleaner. Keep it that way."
"Will," I said. It was a feeling, not a number. He left it at that.
Pierce drew two lines on the board. "Restitution: two hours credited to Valcrey, one commend mark to Mira Kade, one to Lyra Faewyn. Cell Two the same where it fits. No debate in the yard."
