When I set the plate in front of him, he stared at it for a moment like he’d never seen food before.
“Eat,” I said. “We’ll talk about the Regalia after.”
He ate. I ate. Neither of us spoke.
But something had shifted. I could feel it in the air between us, in the way the silence had changed from tense to something else. Not comfortable. Not yet. But no longer hostile.
When the plates were empty, I pushed mine aside and met his eyes.
“The Regalia,” I said. “It’s hidden. But getting to it isn’t simple.”
“Where is it?”
“There’s an old processing station on the ridge to the east. Abandoned since before Torek bought this land. The Regalia is in a sealed vault in the maintenance core.”
I watched his face, looking for impatience, frustration. Found only attention. “Torek didn’t just hide it. He built a system. A lock that can’t be forced or bypassed.”
“What kind of system?”
“The farm.” I gestured at the window, at the fields beyond. “The irrigation lines, the water reclamation, the pump. All of it connects to hydraulic mechanisms in the processing station. To open the vault, you have to redirect the water flow in a specific sequence. Torek designed it that way.”
Understanding dawned in his red eyes. “The pump repair. The harvester. You weren’t just maintaining the farm.”
“I was maintaining the lock.” I nodded. “If any part of the system fails, the vault can’t be opened. The sequence won’t complete.”
“How long does the sequence take?”
“Hours. Once it starts, you can’t rush it. Can’t skip steps. You initiate the flow, and then you wait while the pressure builds and the mechanisms engage.” I leaned back in my chair. “Torek was careful. He wanted something that couldn’t be smashed open or hacked or bypassed. Something that required patience and knowledge and time.”
“So even if you wanted to hand me the Regalia right now?—”
“I couldn’t. Not without starting the sequence and waiting for it to finish.” I met his eyes. “And if something breaks while the sequence is running? The pump, the lines, anything? We have to start over.”
He turned the problem over. I watched him think, the same deliberate focus I’d seen in Torek.
“The sealant on your pump,” he said finally. “Military grade. It should hold.”
“Should.”
“But you’re not certain.”
“I’m never certain. That’s the point.” I stood, gathering the plates. “Torek built a system that requires everything to work. Everything. One failure, and you’re locked out. It’s brilliant and infuriating and exactly the kind of thing he would design.”
I carried the plates to the wash basin. Behind me, I heard him stand. Heard him move to the window.
“Show me the processing station,” he said. “I need to understand the mechanism.”
“Tomorrow. Today, we plan.” I turned to face him. “If the Conclave comes before the sequence is complete, we’ll need to hold them off. That means knowing this land. Every approach. Every choke point. Every place where two people and a war pig can slow down an army.”
“Tactics.”
“Survival.” I held his gaze. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? Not a battle. Just staying alive long enough to matter.”
A faint smile crossed his face. Not quite. But close.
“Yes,” he said. “That’s exactly what it is.”
I nodded and went to wash the dishes.
