The guest washroom had been more luxurious than any room Tess had

  been in. Real tile, a mirror that wasn’t cracked, and water that ran hot

  without sputtering. She’d done what she could with the dust and

  substrate residue, but her clothes were still filthy and her tool belt

  looked like it had been dragged through a maintenance shaft.

  Which, technically, it had.

  Tess made her way back through the corridors toward the receiving

  hall. Her legs ached. Her hands were sore from the precision work. The

  level-up had helped—cleared some of the exhaustion, sharpened her

  focus—but she was still ready to collapse.

  Jeremy waited in the hallway outside the receiving hall, standing

  with perfect posture and holding a small metallic card.

  “Miss Rivera.” He inclined his head. “The Duke asked me to provide

  your payment.”

  He extended the credit chit. Tess took it, turning it over in her

  hand. The balance display read 750 credits.

  She frowned.

  “Seven-fifty,” she said slowly. “The washing machine paid three

  thousand.”

  “Yes, Miss Rivera.”

  “This was a bigger job than the washing machine. Way bigger. The

  entire estate almost lost environmental control.”

  Jeremy’s expression remained perfectly neutral. “Perhaps it would be

  prudent to consider the initial payment a signing bonus.”

  The words hit like cold water.

  It was a signing bonus—payment for agreeing to work here, not for the

  washing machine repair.

  Tess stared at the credit chit in her hand.

  Three thousand credits. A bribe dressed up as a repair job, just like

  Petra had said.

  She’d known the Tertians were manipulating her. Known they wanted

  something. But seeing it laid out so plainly—the difference between what

  they’d pay to secure her and what they’d pay for actual work—hit harder

  than she expected.

  “I see,” she said.

  “The Duke values your skills highly, Miss Rivera. As does the rest of

  House Tertian.” Jeremy’s tone was measured, professional. “Seven hundred

  and fifty credits is our standard rate, plus the bonus for rapid

  response.”

  “Right.” Tess pocketed the chit. It was still good money. More than

  she’d make from a month of work in Sector 7. But it stung.

  Jeremy clasped his hands behind his back. “The Duke has also asked me

  to show you something, if you have time.”

  “What kind of something?”

  “A workshop. On the estate grounds. He thought you might find it

  useful for future repairs here.”

  Tess raised an eyebrow. “You’re offering me a workshop.”

  “Yes, Miss Rivera. It has been unused for some time, but the Duke

  believes it may suit your needs.”

  A workspace on the estate. Tools, equipment, room to spread out

  instead of working in cramped maintenance corridors or environmental

  cores. It made sense, and that was exactly what worried her.

  “All right,” Tess said. “Show me.”

  Petra appeared in the corridor a moment later, looking refreshed and

  wearing an entirely new set of clothes. She fell into step beside Tess

  as Jeremy led them through the estate.

  “You survived the washroom,” Petra said.

  “Barely. Your tile is intimidating.”

  “Wait until you see the conservatory. We have a fountain.”

  BEE: A fountain implies decorative water expenditure. Is that

  common for noble houses on Tertius-Prime?

  “Are fountains normal for Noble houses? Bee says that’s wasteful,”

  Tess asked.

  Petra shrugged. “Depends on the house. We’re not as extravagant as

  some families. Ours actually recycles.”

  BEE: That is marginally less wasteful. I approve

  marginally.

  “She approves marginally,” Tess relayed.

  Petra grinned. “I’ll take it.”

  They passed through a side door into the estate gardens. Tess had

  glimpsed them from windows, but walking through them was different.

  Actual plants—not scraggly hydroponics or salvaged grow boxes, but real

  vegetation. Paths wound between flower beds and low hedges. The air

  smelled green.

  “This is all Aether-sustained?” Tess asked.

  “Mostly solar supplemented with Aether,” Petra said. “My mother

  insisted on the gardens when they renovated the estate. Said if we’re

  going to live on a dying world, we should at least remember what living

  looks like.”

  Jeremy led them along a path that curved away from the main estate

  building. The workshop came into view after a few minutes—a low

  structure of weathered ferrocrete, half-hidden by overgrown plantlife.

  It looked old. Pre-Network construction, if Tess had to guess. It looked

  like it might have been here even before the estate.

  “Here we are,” Jeremy said.

  The path continued for another few hundred meters back toward the

  estate. Tess turned, looking at the main building in the distance. You

  could see it through the gardens, but it was far. Isolated. Quiet.

  “The Duke uses this?” Tess asked.

  “Not in many years. It was quite active before the dungeon was

  sealed, but it has sat unused since.”

  They reached the workshop entrance—a heavy door with an old-style

  mechanical lock. Jeremy produced a key and opened the door. The hinges

  creaked softly.

  Inside, the workshop was spacious. Workbenches lined the walls, their

  surfaces covered in a layer of grime. Tool racks hung bare. Diagnostic

  stations sat dark and offline. Power conduits ran along the ceiling, but

  none of them glowed with active Aether flow.

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  Tess stepped inside, boots echoing on the ferrocrete floor.

  The bones were good. The space was solid. Everything was derelict

  from disuse, not damage. The benches were sturdy. The power conduits

  were intact. Even the lighting fixtures looked functional, just

  unpowered.

  “It’s been empty a long time,” Jeremy said. “But structurally sound.

  The Duke will provide reimbursement for any repairs or restocking you

  require, should you choose to use it.”

  Tess walked to the nearest workbench and ran her hand along its

  surface. Dust came away in a streak, revealing smooth metal

  underneath.

  “Why give me a whole workshop?” she asked. “I’ve got Rivera’s

  Repairs.”

  “You are likely to be here regularly,” Jeremy said. “It seemed

  practical to offer proper workspace. The alternative is continuing

  repairs in maintenance corridors and environmental cores.”

  It was a sensible offer. It was also another thread tying her to this

  place, another reason to stay, another way House Tertian could position

  her exactly where they wanted.

  But it was also a real workshop—space to work, room for tools and

  equipment she couldn’t fit on the freighter. Access to estate systems

  without crawling through vents.

  BEE: The offer appears genuine, if strategically motivated.

  You would benefit from a dedicated workspace.

  “I know,” Tess said.

  Petra walked along the far wall, examining the empty tool racks.

  “Alex might know what used to be here.”

  “Speaking of Alex,” Tess said, “where is he?”

  “Right here,” Alex said from the doorway.

  Tess turned. Alex stood at the entrance, looking around the workshop

  with an expression she couldn’t quite read. Not hostile. Not exactly

  friendly either. More like… resigned curiosity.

  “The Duke asked me to join you,” he said. “Thought I should see the

  space, since we’ll apparently be working together.”

  “You’ve never been here?” Petra asked.

  “Once or twice. Never had much use for it.” He stepped inside, hands

  in his pockets. “It’s been abandoned since before I started working for

  House Tertian. Just storage for old equipment, mostly.”

  Tess watched him move through the space. He wasn’t defensive

  anymore—the tension from earlier had faded. He looked tired, like the

  day had drained him as much as it had drained her.

  “Will you use it?” Alex asked.

  “Maybe. Still deciding.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think you should.” Alex gestured at the empty

  benches. “You’re going to need a proper workspace if we’re doing larger

  repairs like today’s. And it’ll be nice to work with someone who can

  actually see what I’m missing.”

  He said it without bitterness, just fact.

  “Thanks,” Tess said.

  Alex nodded. “I should get back. It’s been a weird day.” He glanced

  at Petra. “Lady Petra, Miss Rivera.”

  “Alex,” Petra said.

  He left through the main door, footsteps fading down the path.

  BEE: His emotional state has stabilized significantly. I

  believe today’s collaboration was beneficial for him.

  “Yeah,” Tess murmured. “I think so too.”

  Petra moved to the back of the workshop, where a row of diagnostic

  stations sat dormant. She ran her hand along one screen, leaving a clean

  streak through the film.

  “This place must have been something before,” she said. “Dozens of

  people working here, maintaining dungeon-tech systems.”

  “Jeremy said it was active before the dungeon was sealed,” Tess

  said.

  “Makes sense. When the dungeon was operational, there was a lot more

  tech to maintain. More Aether flow, more delvers, more equipment cycling

  through.” Petra looked back at her. “You’d be bringing it back to

  life.”

  “Or getting pulled deeper into whatever your family is planning.”

  Petra’s expression flickered. “We’re not…” She stopped. “Okay. That’s

  fair. But my father really does just want to give you workspace.”

  “And tie me closer to the estate.”

  “That too. But would that be so bad?”

  Tess didn’t answer. She walked to another workbench, examining its

  surface. The metal was worn but solid; clearly from years of use.

  Someone had worked here. Built things, fixed things, spent hours at this

  bench doing the same work Tess did now.

  Her hand traced a groove in the metal, deeper than surface wear. She

  frowned, leaning closer.

  Faint lines scored into the bench’s surface—mostly sanded away but

  still visible if you knew where to look—formed a symbol. Tess froze.

  A stylized tree growing out of a cog. The trunk split into branches

  that curved upward, roots tangling through the gear’s teeth. She’d seen

  this before.

  In the tutorial. On a broken piece of plasteel armor. Old, forgotten,

  left in a maintenance room where no one would look.

  “What is it?” Petra asked, moving closer.

  “This symbol.” Tess traced the lines with her finger. “Someone tried

  to remove it, but you can still see it. Do you know what it is?”

  Petra leaned over the bench, squinting at the faint marks. “Maybe?

  We’ve bought a lot of old equipment over the years. Could be from

  wherever this bench came from.”

  “It’s called Techno-Arbor,” Tess said slowly. “I saw it in the

  dungeon once. Bee said they were disbanded a long time ago.”

  BEE: Are you alone with Petra?

  “Yeah Bee, you can talk.”

  “The Techno-Arbor Guild is one of the few historical records I still

  have access to. 180 years ago they were formally disbanded following

  Network expansion accords. They fostered sustainable relationships with

  dungeons. Though my records of what happened to their members have been

  thoroughly purged.”

  “Almost 200 years ago?” Petra asked. “How have I never heard of

  them?”

  “I hadn’t either,” Tess said. “It was a fluke when I was in a

  tutorial maintenance closet.”

  Tess straightened, looking around the workshop with fresh eyes. Old

  construction. Pre-Network. Active when the dungeon was operational. And

  somewhere, at some point, someone had tried to erase the Techno-Arbor

  symbol from this workbench.

  “How long has this workshop been here?” Tess asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s been here as long as I have.” Petra frowned at

  the symbol. “Is it important?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I recommend further investigation. The presence of Techno-Arbor

  insignia on House Tertian property is noteworthy,” Bee said.

  Petra crossed her arms, studying the faint symbol. “I can ask my

  mother about it. She knows the estate’s history better than anyone.”

  “Yeah. Do that.”

  Tess took one more look around the workshop. Empty benches, dark

  conduits, dust-covered equipment. And beneath it all, a symbol someone

  had tried to erase but couldn’t quite remove.

  House Tertian wanted her here. Wanted her working, leveling up,

  getting closer to their systems. And now she was standing in a workshop

  marked with a symbol from a Guild that had been disbanded nearly 200

  years ago, offered as if it were just practical workspace.

  Nothing the Tertians did was simple.

  “I’ll think about it,” Tess said finally.

  “The workshop?” Petra asked.

  “All of it.”

  Jeremy walked her back to the estate entrance, where the tram

  platform waited. The sun was lower now, late afternoon bleeding into

  evening. Tess’s legs ached with every step.

  “Thank you for your work today, Miss Rivera,” Jeremy said as they

  reached the platform. “I will inform the Duke of your interest in the

  workshop.”

  “I didn’t say I was interested.”

  “You did not decline.”

  Fair point.

  The tram was nearly full when it arrived, and Tess climbed aboard.

  She found a seat near the window and collapsed onto it.

  BEE: You are exhausted.

  “Yeah.”

  BEE: But you performed exceptionally today. The environmental

  core repair was complex, and your collaboration with Alex was

  effective.

  “Thanks, Bee.”

  BEE: The workshop is a significant offer. But I agree with

  your caution. House Tertian’s motivations remain layered. I will

  continue to track possibilities. Though the probability of assassin

  training has declined substantially.

  Tess chuckled and leaned her head against the window, watching the

  estate grounds disappear as the tram pulled away. The workshop sat in

  the distance, half-hidden by gardens and plant life. It sat quiet and

  isolated, marked with a symbol no one had fully explained.

  She pulled out the credit chit and looked at it again. Seven hundred

  and fifty credits. Good money. Real payment for emergency repair

  work.

  And three thousand credits before that, just for showing up.

  The tram carried her back toward Sector 7, toward the docks, toward

  Rivera’s Reprieve and Marcus and the familiar clutter of home. But part

  of her mind stayed at the estate, tracing the lines of a tree growing

  from a cog, wondering what the Tertians weren’t telling her.

  BEE: Are you going to accept the workshop?

  “Of course I am.”

  BEE: Would you like my assessment?

  “Always.”

  BEE: The workspace is genuine and would benefit your work.

  But House Tertian is positioning you deliberately. They are not hostile,

  but they are strategic. I recommend proceeding with caution and clear

  boundaries.

  Tess closed her eyes, letting Bee’s words settle.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Nothing changes from before.”

  The tram hummed through the city, carrying her home. Behind her, the

  Tertian estate faded into the distance. Ahead, Sector 7 waited—familiar,

  chaotic, hers.

  And somewhere in between, a dusty workshop that held secrets waited

  for her to return.