SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

”So, about The Glass Atrium...”

The mana engineer beside the alchemist clicked his tongue and shifted half a step closer, lowering his voice with irritation rather than fear.

”Don’t say that name so openly, Merric. There are inspection wards everywhere during event week, and the Atrium’s administrators are not exactly forgiving with careless talk.”

The alchemist gave a small scoff, though he did lower his voice. He was lean, dark-haired, and dressed in a long coat with reagent stains near the cuffs, the mark of someone who had spent years pretending accidents were simply part of discovery.

”If Aurevane arrested everyone who gossiped during the event, they would have to chain half the guests beneath the administrative hall by breakfast.”

Caelum kept the cartridge between his gloved fingers.

The vendor in front of him was still speaking, eager to save the sale. ”As I was saying, sir, the casing is imported from northern foundries. It is reliable enough for hunters, escorts, and anyone who prefers not to be helpless when the streets become difficult.”

”That casing is unstable if mishandled,” Caelum replied in the dry, aged voice he had chosen for the vampire disguise. ”Unless your sales pitch includes replacing fingers, you should not call it reliable so confidently.”

The vendor’s smile weakened. ”You have experience with this type of ammunition, sir?”

”Enough to know when a merchant is selling confidence faster than metal.”

Behind him, the alchemist continued, ”I only asked because the western side was sealed earlier. That is not normal for a public exhibition hall, especially not on the first night.”

”It is not only a public exhibition hall,” the mana engineer replied. ”That is the part people keep forgetting.”

Caelum placed the cartridge back into the tray.

The vendor leaned forward, trying once more. ”Will you take it after all, sir? I can reduce the price if you are buying more than one.”

”No,” Caelum said, leaving a coin on the counter. ”Your explanation has already been useful enough.”

He turned before the vendor could decide whether that was praise or insult.

The two men behind him paused at once. Caelum inclined his borrowed vampire head with old-fashioned courtesy. Pale skin, red eyes, gray hair, fangs shown only enough to be believed. Harmless wealth with old bones. A useful lie.

”Forgive me for intruding,” he said. ”I did not mean to listen, but The Glass Atrium is one of the few structures in Aurevane that interests me, and your conversation was more relevant than this vendor’s ammunition.”

The alchemist frowned, though curiosity reached him before suspicion could take root. ”That is a confident way to enter another man’s conversation. May I ask who you are?”

”A guest with poor manners, apparently.” Caelum touched two fingers to his chest. ”Though professionally, I introduce myself as Edran von Voss. Mana architecture, mostly. Alchemical stabilizers as well, whenever someone insists on making a stable structure more difficult than necessary.”

The alchemist’s expression changed at once.

”Edran von Voss?” he repeated, more interested now. ”The same von Voss who published the resonance-lock paper in Virell?”

Caelum allowed a tired little curve to touch the borrowed mouth. ”Yes, though I would prefer not to be judged only by work I wrote years ago. Scholars have an ugly habit of remembering your oldest paper and ignoring everything you improved afterward.”

”Well, in that case, I can finally put a face to the name.” The alchemist offered his hand with sudden warmth. ”Merric di Calvane. Alchemist, researcher, and occasional victim of engineer complaints.”

The mana engineer did not warm as quickly. He was older than Merric, broad-shouldered, with silver-threaded brown hair, a trimmed beard, and hands marked by years of conduit tools and mana-oil. His right thumb brushed the metal ring on his middle finger before he spoke.

”Orven von Halbrecht,” he said. ”Mana engineer. I know your name as well, Master von Voss, though I admit I had imagined you somewhat younger.”

Caelum shook Merric’s hand first, then Halbrecht’s. He stored the pressure of Halbrecht’s grip, the delay before releasing, the ring-touch before speech.

Orven von Halbrecht.

Authority in the surname. Technical access in the profession. Irritation kept on a short chain.

”A common disappointment,” Caelum replied. ”People read a paper and assume the author is either brilliant and young or old and irrelevant. Reality is less generous.”

Merric laughed. ”I like him already.”

Caelum shifted his cane to the other hand. ”Are you both involved with the event directly, or are you only here to suffer through it like the rest of us?”

Merric spread one hand. ”I have a small presentation on reactive binding agents, assuming my assistant does not ruin the samples before morning. Orven is here because Aurevane panics whenever expensive wards have to do real work.”

Halbrecht gave him a flat glance. ”I am here because several buildings have been modified for the event, and people who do not understand mana flow keep approving decorative changes near functional conduits.”

Caelum gave a faint hum. ”That sounds painfully familiar. A beautiful hall usually becomes a technical crime once nobles decide where the banners should hang.”

Halbrecht’s thumb stopped on his ring.

”Exactly,” he said, with more approval than before.

”I am presenting a ward-stress regulator during the main day,” Caelum continued. ”Nothing theatrical. It detects pressure inconsistencies before a structure begins compensating in the wrong direction.”

”Self-correcting?” Merric asked.

”Self-warning,” Caelum corrected. ”Self-correcting devices are what ambitious fools promise when they want investors to stop asking sensible questions.”

Merric pointed at him with delight. ”That is a very fair answer, and I hate that it makes engineers sound reasonable.”

Halbrecht’s mouth moved slightly, almost a smile. ”A rare victory for our profession.”

Caelum let the conversation breathe, but not drift. ”I heard The Glass Atrium underwent additional adjustments for the event. That surprised me. Glass structures dislike rushed confidence, especially when security wards and guest barriers are added at the same time.”

Merric leaned closer. ”That is exactly what I was saying. The western side was sealed earlier, and no one gives a normal answer when asked why.”

Halbrecht’s expression tightened. ”The western section was sealed because the load distribution was being inspected. That is not scandalous, Merric. It is maintenance.”

”Maintenance does not usually require two private guard rotations and a separate ward registry.”

”It does when people of rank are expected to walk beneath modified glass.”

Caelum tapped the cane lightly against the stone. ”Private guard rotations, separate ward registry, and reinforced western conduits. That is a lot of care for a place supposedly hosting exhibitions.”

Halbrecht studied him a little longer this time.

”There are lower technical levels,” he admitted. ”Most large structures in Aurevane have them. The public sees glass, light, and expensive flooring. The actual work happens beneath that.”

Merric gave Caelum a satisfied gesture. ”There. You see? He pretends everything is ordinary, and each sentence makes it sound less ordinary.”

”Because you enjoy misunderstanding practical engineering as conspiracy,” Halbrecht said.

”No, Orven, I enjoy noticing when practical engineering gets surrounded by armed men.”

Caelum now had enough to choose.

Merric di Calvane had energy, access to gossip, and a mouth that wandered ahead of his judgment. Useful, but limited. Orven von Halbrecht had doors. More importantly, he had a reason to stand on the other side of them without being questioned.

Merric checked the brass timepiece at his belt and cursed under his breath. ”I need to go before my assistant stores thunder-salt beside heating crystals again. Master von Voss, I hope I get to see that regulator during the main event.”

”You may be disappointed,” Caelum replied. ”It is useful, not beautiful.”

”Useful things are beautiful to people who work for a living.” Merric gave both men a quick nod and started down the street. ”Try not to insult each other into friendship without me.”

Halbrecht watched him leave with visible resignation. ”He says things like that and wonders why committees keep him away from official dinners.”

Caelum turned the borrowed vampire face toward him. ”I have no desire to return to my lodging yet, and you seem capable of discussing wards without turning the subject into theater. Would you care to continue this over a drink? My treat.”

Halbrecht touched the ring once more, weighing caution against boredom.

”It is the first night of the event,” he said at last. ”Refusing competent company would be a poor use of the evening.”

”Then lead the way, Master von Halbrecht. I trust you know somewhere with better wine than this street and fewer merchants selling finger-removal devices.”

Halbrecht exhaled through his nose, amused despite himself. ”There is a quieter establishment two streets down. The wine is tolerable, and no one there should attempt to sell us ammunition.”

”That already makes it exceptional.”

They walked together into the brighter part of Aurevane’s night, one man thinking he had found an interesting colleague, while Caelum measured the weight of his voice, the rhythm of his steps, and the face he would soon borrow.