Tyler was quite inquisitive in nature. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have been a conveyance-crafter. Ever questioning how devices and contraptions work. How structures were erected. How implements were forged.

As it were, fate gifted him a pair of hands, quick and nimble, to keep up with his dexterous mind, finding him a talent in tinkering with gears across all types of transport carriages.

Since his unfortunate accident, however, the precision he used to own was lost to him, fingers, never quite recovering their dexterity from the crushing weight of the fallen pillar. His hands forever carried the scar in the form of slightly disjointed and crooked fingers.

The unsightliness actually mattered little – it bothered him, yes, but it was hardly as brutal and cruel as the impact of knowing he would never again, be able to work on his passion.

That reality banished him, like a mega-sandstorm swallowed him and spit him out to the far waste of the desert, where he might drown within an ocean of scorching sand.

Two months in the recuperation estate, then six months in the Middle quadrant. Looking back now, it was a wonder how he passed his days in the last eight months since the accident.

He basically threw himself into Torch training, pushing every inch of muscle and exhausting every ounce of his mental endurance, in order to distract himself from the bleak state of his retired hands. Even so, there was no quieting his restlessness. The lack of industriousness he was used to, bade him to immerse himself with exploring the Middle quadrant whenever time permitted.

The Upper quadrant on the other hand, was not accessible to him until these past two weeks since moving in with Kovan. Even so, he was forced to keep within Owner’s place as if under house arrest, all for the sake of secrecy before his debut run.

Like an agitated desert wolf chained indoors, he had paced back and forth repeatedly, trained vigorously until he wore himself out, patience stretched to the limit. He couldn’t even explore the rest of Kovan’s other disks, because Silica walls blocked the entry-ways, preventing him access.

That morning was in fact, the first time Tyler stepped out the disk into the jet-sedan, zipping straight to the Volcan grounds. Though they did not stop anywhere else midway, the journey through the flight itself was eye-opening. Something rather new, and tantalizing for his brain, since he had never actually seen how the Echelon lived. All he used to have were just but snippets of stories, that wormed their way through the Lower quadrants and prodding the workshop where he used to work, inciting him and his workmates with envy.

Here, now, he was right in the home of another Echelon, where mere curtains stood in his path of addressing his nosiness. It was obvious he couldn’t waste the opportunity exploring the rest of the lavish abode. So Tyler gingerly left the room he was told to stay put in, and started down the corridor back the way they came.

The first curtained archway offered nothing different from the previous room. He was slightly disappointed, but went on to the next, certain that he would come upon something fascinating. Hopefully, there’d be a Link-ore filigree or decoration of some sort for his inspection and study.

Just barely entering the second arch, he froze, catching some faint, grunting noises. An animal?

Tyler took a step back and plastered his ears against the Silica wall, holding his breath. There might be some heavy breathing, rather animalistic like, though he couldn’t be sure. Perhaps Hector had a form of pet in there that must be some manner of large beast, considering the fullness and loudness of its breathing. Whichever creature it was, it was definitely neither a camel, nor a desert wolf.

He deliberated if he should risk a peek, curious to know what exotic animals an Upper class like Hector might own. Then again, it might be the type that didn’t like the sight of strangers, and if so, it might become distressed. Deciding it was more trouble for it’s worth, he decided to bypass it.

Then unmistakably, came voices. A few exchange of lines, words indecipherable, but in loud enough tones that Tyler could hear the gruffness. Loud enough, to send Tyler scrambling behind the heavy draperies lining the stretch of wall in between each archway.

His heart hammered, blood roaring loudly in his ears. How stupid he was.

He was not so innocent to not recognize what those earlier sounds were. Just, it slipped his mind, as he did not expect these partitioned off quarters to be used for such a matter. His throat went dry upon realization. Perhaps this was why Hector’s right-hand assistant specifically instructed him not to venture the rooms.

Such arrangements seemed unfitting of the Echelon – at least from what he was taught. The Upper class supposedly held themselves in high regard and conduct, and frowned upon things like carefree indulges in the flesh. Yet, for folks like them, it seemed pretty brazen to engage in such rendezvous, in the compounds of someone else’s abode, and worst, when the party was still in full swing.

Tyler hid just in time, before a bulky form exited the archway. He gawked, recognizing Fenwicke from his back. The pompous man had been rather nasty earlier, and worst, ogled at him with the most sickening of stares. He rolled his shoulders a tiny bit as shivers travelled downward upon remembering.

Surely, whoever the partner was, he or she could have chosen anyone else other than Fenwicke.

Regardless of how he felt, it was not really his say to condemn another person’s choice. He kept silent, and so very still, waiting for Fenwick’s rendezvous partner to leave the room as well.

A minute passed when the thought came to him how the other person might not leave so soon, so as not to give the rest of the party attendees any impression of their tryst. Yet, he couldn’t risk making a dash for the earlier room, least the person exits right at the same time.

Instead, he slid backwards along the wall, half a foot at a time, keeping behind the drapes till the safe room was right next to him.

At last.

He crept past the beaded curtain. But by unholy quicksand, he tripped, and stumbled forwards.

“Who’s there?” came that much dreaded demand, in a voice that was tight, and frantic.