CHAPTER 66: AFTERMATH

We gave statements first.

Liora sat us in a small room off the south office. One table. Two chairs. A jug of water. No banners on the walls, no chance to mistake this for a stage.

"Plain language," she said. "No speeches. Start at the start."

Cael went first. "Verrin threatened a civilian. I engaged to stop the threat. Armand anchored the bridge. We contained. He broke the wand when Verrin aimed at Lyra’s ankle."

"Why?" Liora asked.

"He said he’d break something. I believed him."

She turned to me. I kept it simple. "Pinned the anchor. Called prusik. Used Marrow and Hollow to pull his feet and tip. Cael owned the ground. When Verrin targeted Lyra, I cut the wand."

"Nonlethal intent?"

"Yes."

"Good."

She wrote the bare minimum on a slate, set it aside, and looked at our hands like a medic. "Grip’s steady," she said. "Armand, cheek cut. Cael, shoulder strain. Infirmary after Discipline."

"Discipline?" Cael asked.

"Interference becomes a board item. Witnessed by a sponsor." Her eyes softened a hair. "You will be fine. Speak the truth, not your pride."

We crossed the quad. The rumor wave moved before us the way birds lift from a field. No chanting, no noise. Just eyes. Someone whispered, "He broke the wand," like it was a story with ten owners already.

The board chamber held three proctors and Pierce at center, slate already marked. Verrin waited in manacles that glowed the dull blue of a binding no one wanted to test twice. Seraphine stood behind the sponsor, hands folded, face calm. Lyra sat to one side with a fresh bandage on her cheek and her badge still at her collar. Gareth and Pelham were in the back row, hats clutched like they remembered them.

"Proceed," Pierce said.

A junior proctor read the list: "Unsafe discharge. Threat against civilians. Interference with evaluation. Resist restraint."

Verrin stared straight ahead. His jaw worked once, then set.

"Witnesses," Pierce said.

I repeated my statement. No more, no less. Cael did the same. Lyra’s voice was quiet and even. "He aimed for my neck and later my ankle. Valcrey warned. Veyron restrained. Wand was cut after a second attempt."

"Medical," Liora added. "Superficial cheek cut. Mild bruising on Valcrey’s forearm. Veyron’s shoulder tight. No civilian drop."

Pierce nodded. He turned to the sponsor. "Observation?"

The man’s smile wore its old habit. "Impressive restraint. Efficient response. Unfortunate damage to a wand."

"Unfortunate damage?" Liora asked, tone flat.

"The wand belonged to the Academy," he said. "Accountings must—"

"The wand," Pierce cut in, "was brought to bear on a student’s throat. Accountings will be handled."

Seraphine finally spoke. "Master Verrin is a contractor in good standing. The Duskveil Foundation donated for bridge improvements. We don’t want this to turn political."

"It’s not political," Pierce said. "It’s safety."

Verrin’s eyes slid to me for the first time with something like heat. "You cut my ship."

"Your weapon," I said. "Yes."

"Speak to me like that out there and I break your ribs," he said softly.

Cael stepped half a pace forward without raising his voice. "Try."

Liora raised two fingers. The room cooled. "Enough."

The ruling came fast. Three weeks’ ban from instructional spaces for Verrin, pending a full review and guard interview; fines to cover equipment; a formal apology to Refuge; marks against Voss cell for unsafe discharge.

"Appeal?" Pierce asked.

Seraphine touched the sponsor’s sleeve. He shook his head. "No."

"Good," Pierce said. "Next: commendations. Veyron and Valcrey: method marks. Coordinated restraint. Refuge: operations mark to Coordinator Faewyn for line control under threat."

Lyra didn’t react. Her ears went a little pink. She wrote something on her folio to avoid looking anywhere that mattered.

When it ended, the room didn’t explode into noise. It exhaled.

Outside, Gareth grabbed my arm, then remembered my cut and grabbed my shoulder instead. "You two looked like you planned it."

"We didn’t," Cael said.

Pelham swallowed. "I held the line," he said like he was asking permission to be proud.

"You did," I said. "Good hands."

Lyra approached, held out a small tin. "Salve," she said. "For the cheek. Don’t touch your eye after."

"Thank you," I said.

She looked at Cael’s shoulder. "Cold soak. Ten minutes. Not more."

He nodded. "Copy."

Seraphine waited under the arch, white hair precise, amethyst eyes unreadable. When we passed, she matched a few steps. "You were very... practical," she said.

"That’s the job," I said.

She smiled like a knife under silk. "Sponsors like clean endings. The Foundation likes order. Do keep that in mind."

"Change your methods," I said. "My offer stands."

"And you do love conditions," she replied, then turned away, dress swaying like it had its own opinions.

In the infirmary, the nurse dabbed my cheek, scolded me for moving, and let me go. Cael took his cold soak like a sailor. On the bench, I looked at my hands. No shake. The leash hummed light and quiet, like a motor idling.

"Artisan?" Cael asked.

"I think so," I said. "It felt like... three tasks for one hand. Clean."

He nodded once. "You didn’t flood. Keep it like that."

"Trying to," I said.

He pulled on his shirt. "We’ll have to spar when the ink dries."

"One day," I said.

We stepped back into the yard. The air felt different—not warm, not friendly. Just... aware. People made space without being told. Marcus drifted over, hands in pockets, eyes sharp.

"Congratulations," he said. "You made half the yard rethink what counts as winning."

"What counts?" I asked.

"Leaving without a story that makes you small." He tipped two fingers. "Drink later?"

"Another time," I said. "Statements for ops."

"Understood." He glanced at Lyra’s bandage. His mouth tightened and he moved away.

Liora caught us at the steps. "South office. Ten minutes," she said. "Then you can breathe."

We followed her into the small room again. No jug this time. Just her, Dorian leaning in the door, and a locked case on the table.

"Two things," she said. "One: you pushed together under stress and didn’t talk over each other. That saved time. Keep that habit."

"Two: Verrin is not a lone fool. He’s a paid fool. We will not announce that. We will check every gate for resin and every contractor for debt. You will not."

"Because we’re students," Cael said.

"Because you are visible," she said. "And whoever’s paying likes visibility."

Dorian added, "Your flow felt steadier in the last exchange, Armand. Heavier in the heel, cleaner in the click. Keep it feeling, not counting."

"I will," I said.

Liora tapped the locked case. "His wand," she said. "Or rather, our wand he was issued. You didn’t cut the heart rune. Good control." She closed the case again, clicked the lock, and slid it away. "Go eat. Avoid telling the story. Everyone else will do it for you."

Outside, Gareth had kept two bowls of stew warm under a towel like an old man. We sat on the cart tongue and ate. It tasted better than the last time. Maybe because nothing was burning.

"You looked... different," Gareth said finally. "Not stronger. Just smoother."

"Artisan," I said.

He grinned. "Knew it."

"Don’t spread it," I said.

"I won’t," he said, then smirked. "Much."

Pelham hovered, then sat, then stood, then sat. "Thank you," he blurted. "For not letting me do something stupid."

"You didn’t," I said. "You did the job."

He nodded like that sentence would keep him full for a week.

Across the yard, Seraphine spoke to the sponsor in a low voice. He nodded at all the right times. When she glanced up, her eyes found me and didn’t blink.

The bell for afternoon drills rang once.

"Back to work," Cael said.

"Back to work," I agreed.

We went.