SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

The pumping works had swallowed the eastern approach to the second ring.

Four field engines stood against the bulkhead wall, their lines disappearing through the access ports and into the flooded sector beyond. The constant mechanical roar filled the level, broken only by shouted measurements and the scrape of chalk against the enormous depth slate mounted beside the stairs.

Kesh Varlan stood in the middle of it all.

His coat was gone, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, and three engineers were waiting around him while he read through a pressure report. He finished the page before acknowledging Trafalgar, handed it back, then dismissed the men with two short instructions.

Only after that did his attention settle fully on him.

”Lord Morgain. Ithanne’s office approved this visit?”

”They did.”

Kesh’s eyes moved past him to the Myrrhvale guard standing several paces back. He looked at the man for barely a second before turning toward the upper walkway.

”Clear this level for ten minutes. Keep the engines manned below.”

Nobody asked why.

Engineers gathered their boards and moved down the stairs. Two harbour officers followed them. Kesh pointed toward the far landing without raising his voice, and the guard accompanying Trafalgar withdrew with the rest.

Within a minute, only the two of them remained above the bulkhead.

Trafalgar watched the last man leave.

’That’s an admiral.’

There had been no argument and he did not need to repeat himself. Forty people had simply moved because Kesh Varlan had decided they should.

Trafalgar took the folded copy from inside his coat and placed it on the steel railing between them.

Kesh opened it.

The vessel. The date. The berth.

Meer, Halvic. Physician, household. Surface passage, Coastal Authority berth. Special authorisation.

Then the signature beneath it.

Varlan.

Kesh read the line once, then went back over the date before folding the paper along its original crease.

Kesh placed the document back on the railing. ”The city was under closure, the household was still in mourning, and Meer left aboard a Tide vessel under my authority. That’s why you’re here.”

”Part of it.”

”Then we’ll deal with that part first.” Kesh rested one hand against the railing. ”Meraval was closed. During a full closure, civilian passage through the locks stops. Anyone who had legitimate cause to leave required fleet authorisation, regardless of who they were.”

His tone never changed. He wasn’t explaining himself nervously or searching his memory as Trafalgar questioned him. He was giving an operational report.

”Forty-two exceptional passages crossed my desk during that closure. Physicians, household personnel, two foreign merchants, dependants of staff and several people whose ships had already missed their departure windows. Halvic Meer was one of them.”

”Why?”

”A request reached my office from the household administration. Meer had been released from service and had family on the coast. There was space aboard a Tide vessel already scheduled to surface, so I authorised him to take it.”

”Who requested it?”

”I don’t remember.”

Kesh said it without hesitation.

”I signed forty-two. If you expect me to remember the clerk carrying number seventeen two years later, I don’t. The original request will.”

Trafalgar watched him carefully. ”Convenient.”

Kesh’s expression hardened by a degree.

”Be precise, Lord Morgain. If you believe I’m lying, say I’m lying. If you believe the request was fabricated, say that instead. Don’t put a word between us that means whatever you need it to mean afterward.”

The engines continued roaring beneath them.

Trafalgar didn’t look away.

”Fine. Nyssara di Myrrhvale had been deteriorating for most of a year. Meer treated her throughout that period. She dies without a clear diagnosis, and three days later the physician closest to her case leaves a sealed city under special authorisation.”

He tapped the folded page once.

”You saw his name and let him through.”

Kesh didn’t answer immediately this time.

Not because Trafalgar had caught him without one.

His attention had changed.

”Most of a year,” Kesh repeated.

Trafalgar felt it almost immediately.

Kesh looked at him properly now. ”You know how long her health was deteriorating. You know Meer remained responsible for her treatment throughout that period, and you’re confident enough about the absence of a diagnosis to use it against me.”

Nothing in his voice had risen, but the conversation had shifted underneath Trafalgar’s feet.

”Those aren’t details from a passenger register.”

”They’re relevant details.”

”I didn’t say they weren’t.”

Kesh straightened from the railing. He was taller than Trafalgar had properly registered before, and with the working crews gone there was nothing left around him to soften the fact that this was a man accustomed to commanding fleets.

”What I’m interested in is how an observer who arrived in Meraval weeks ago knows the contents of the late Matriarch’s medical records.”

Trafalgar kept his face still. ”You’re changing the subject.”

”No. I’m finally looking at the whole one.”

Kesh reached down and pushed the copied authorisation back toward him.

”You came here with a line carrying my signature and information that doesn’t belong beside it unless someone gave you access to records outside your mandate. I’m answering for my signature. You can decide whether you’re willing to answer for your information.”

”I didn’t come here to discuss my sources.”

Kesh turned his attention briefly toward the depth slate below, where another figure was being chalked into place.

”The authorisation was legal. The household requested the passage. Meer had no detention order against him, no restriction on movement and no accusation attached to his name. The fleet had no legal basis to keep him here because someone might decide two years later that his departure looked suspicious.”

”He was the physician of a dead Matriarch.”

”And at that moment nobody had accused him of anything.”

”You could have delayed him.”

”On what authority?”

Trafalgar said nothing.

Kesh continued before he could answer.

”That distinction matters. Particularly now.”

For the first time, some weight entered his voice.

”Meraval has just lost part of a ring because people decided rules and authority could be ignored when they became inconvenient. I will not defend myself by pretending I had powers I did not have because it would make this conversation easier.”

Trafalgar studied him.

Every answer worked. Nothing Kesh had said cleared him, but nothing opened either. The man wasn’t scrambling to explain an old signature. He had put it back inside procedure, surrounded it with forty-one other names and forced Trafalgar to prove why this one was different.

Trafalgar still had another route.

Two crates sat hidden in his rooms. Surviving records from the flooded warehouse. Shipment dates during closure windows. Fleet markings. Material recovered from a sector nobody outside the authorised recovery teams should have entered.

”You really don’t find any of this strange?”

”I find it extremely strange.” Kesh’s gaze returned to him. ”I’m simply not going to decide which part is criminal because you arrived with one copied line.”

He reached for his coat where it had been folded over a nearby crate.

”Before the end of the day, every special authorisation carrying my signature from that month will be copied and certified. All forty-two. I’ll send them directly to Ithanne’s office with the corresponding requests where they still exist.”

Trafalgar frowned.

”Why?”

”Because you isolated one.”

Kesh pulled the coat over his shoulders.

”I won’t allow a single line from a fleet register to become evidence by being separated from the other forty-one lines sitting beside it. If Meer’s passage was different, the complete record will show why. If it wasn’t, that will show too.”

Trafalgar understood what he was doing. Once those forty-two authorisations reached Ithanne’s office, Meer’s departure would no longer be a signature Trafalgar could produce on its own. Anyone looking at it would have the other forty-one beside it, along with whatever requests and explanations had survived.

Kesh wasn’t trying to make the line disappear. He was making sure nobody could look at it without also looking at everything around it.

”You move quickly,” Trafalgar said.

”I command the organisation you’re investigating. Moving slowly would be considerably more suspicious.”

Kesh looked toward the stair, and the conversation was over before either of them announced it.

”Read the copies when they arrive. If you find something in them, come back.”

”And if I find something somewhere else?”

Kesh’s eyes remained on him for a moment.

”Then I suggest you think very carefully about where you found it before you place it in front of me.”

The crews started returning when Kesh raised one hand.

The walkway filled again within seconds. Engineers reclaimed their stations, harbour officers came back with their tally boards, and Trafalgar’s guard climbed the stairs to collect him.

Trafalgar slipped the copy back inside his coat and started down.

Halfway to the lower landing, he looked over his shoulder.

Kesh hadn’t returned to the pressure reports.

One of his aides had approached him, and the admiral was speaking directly into the man’s ear beneath the roar of the engines. The aide listened without interrupting, glanced once toward Trafalgar, then left the walkway at a fast pace toward the castle district.

Kesh watched him go.

Only then did he turn back toward the flooded sector.