Page 291 of Mercy Written in Blood

The lift stopped. The doors opened onto a corridor lined with dark glass. No guards stood inside. There did not need to be. Renji could feel the containment measures built into the walls — silver, ultraviolet emitters, a ventilation system capable of releasing aerosolised anticoagulants. The Accord did not call them weapons. It called them contingencies.

Haruki stepped out. His expression did not change, but Renji knew he had noticed the absence of windows.

"You have been here before," Haruki said.

"Yes."

"Often?"

"Enough."

"For disciplinary hearings?"

"Occasionally."

Haruki glanced at him.

"That answer raised more questions."

"We are already late."

"We are thirty seconds early."

"You have become irritatingly precise."

"I had a good teacher."

Renji did not answer.

The corridor ended at a pair of wooden doors. Unlike everything else in the building, they were old — cedar, darkened by age, no electronic lock. A woman stood beside them in a grey uniform. She opened the door without requesting identification.

"Doctor Takahara. Mr Ishida."

The Commander waited inside. Mori Keisuke had led the Accord's eastern command for thirty-eight years. He looked sixty. Renji knew he was eighty-three. Human. The distinction mattered. Vampire leaders could accumulate authority through endurance. Human commanders inherited institutions built to outlive them and spent their brief tenure deciding which parts could be allowed to change.

Mori sat at the far end of a long table. No aides. No advisers. No visible recording equipment. A wall of windows overlooked the city, though Renji suspected the view was simulated — the light was too even. A pot of tea stood between three cups.

Mori rose when they entered. He was a compact man with silver hair cut close to the scalp, his suit plain, his posture military despite the absence of uniform.

"Doctor Takahara."

"Commander."

"Mr Ishida."

Haruki looked at him.

"Commander."

Mori's mouth moved slightly — not amusement, recognition of deliberate equivalence. He gestured towards the chairs.

"Sit."

Haruki remained standing for half a second longer than necessary. Then sat beside Renji. Mori poured tea. Neither Haruki nor Renji touched it. Mori noticed.

"This is not an interrogation."

"No," Haruki said. "You would have brought more people."