The extended shift in the Northern Tunnel was a descent into a dusty, resonant hell. The old conduit was a massive ribcage of rusted metal, once the artery of a dead river.
Sage's job was to scan for structural flaws. Valentine, paired with him as always, catalogued them with ruthless efficiency.
"Fracture, longitudinal, section four-alpha," she dictated, her voice echoing. "Probable cause: substrate erosion."
Sage ran his gloved hand over the cold metal. His scanner chirped, but his mind was elsewhere. The fracture pattern was… odd. It spiraled out from a central point, like a crystal formation, not random corrosion.
"Val," he said. "Look at this. It's geometric."
She glanced over. "It's a rupture. Log it."
"But the energy flow from the Aqua Vitae—if it pulsed, or had a resonant frequency, it could cause stress patterns like this. It's a clue."
"A clue to what?" she asked, exasperated. "To how a pipe broke? Log it, Sage. Our Vitae allotment for the work-lights is ticking down."
He sighed, logging the fracture. But he also, on instinct, used the dust on the floor to make a crude rubbing of the pattern on the back of his work order. He was stuffing it into his pocket when a new voice cut through the gloom.
"Finding art in the decay, Mr. Pendragon? How… imaginative."
The voice was dominant, smooth, and cold. Charlotte Soladorn stood at the tunnel entrance, backlit by the work-lamps. She was dressed in austere, high-collared grey, her hair a severe silver crown. Her presence seemed to siphon the warmth from the air.
"Chief Soladorn," Valentine said, snapping to a respectful posture.
"We were just completing the inspection," Sage added.
Charlotte's gaze swept over them, lingering on Sage's dust-streaked hands. "The Syndicate appreciates thoroughness. But remember, the Aqua Vitae is a science, not a mythology. We understand its mechanics perfectly. Your role is to maintain the machinery that distributes it. Not to… speculate on its nature."
Her words were a clear, direct order. A wall.
"Of course," Sage said.
As she turned to leave, a second, slighter figure appeared beside her. Roxana Soladorn, Charlotte's sister. Her smile was a thin, curved blade.
"Don't mind Charlotte," Roxana said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "She just hates seeing good Vitae wasted on… unproductive endeavors. Like amateur geology. Probably best to just do what you're told. Eventually."
With a soft, mocking laugh, she followed her sister out of the tunnel.
Sage and Valentine were left in silence, the dust settling around them once more.