There is an air of oppression in this guardroom, a steely-eyed cultivation of the premise that if one does nothing wrong, they have nothing to worry about. Yet, a few small cues allow you to see through that flimsy lie. Bits of rope still cling to a sturdy, uncomfortable chair where someone was questioned, none too gently, for some time. Though the floor is clean, a quick examination of the mop bucket used reveals a thin residue of blood around its rim.