As the party wore on, Tyler was introduced to more Upper class members donning creature heads, each more exotic and unusual than the last.

Tyler was certain the price of such sophisticated fractal rendering did not come cheap. He had heard the cost of Link-ore implementation in chandeliers and similar home aesthetics, would cost him anywhere between one to three years working wage as a conveyance-crafter. Seeing as to how those looked far simpler in comparison, who knew how much it must cost to get these fractal heads. Perhaps such a frivolity required one to sell their soul.

Their clothing as well, was another eye-popping luxury that tested the limits of his belief. He had seen the Echelon in their rich garbs but never in such grandeur. It was like they completed one another on who could squeeze more stitches of costly embroidery onto their outfits. Gems and sequins crowded their fabrics, as if the tailors they commissioned were obsessed with cramming every surface with embellishment.

Tyler couldn’t help but feel self-conscious, blatantly aware of how his dressing paled in comparison, particularly when he caught many staring at him conspicuously longer than necessary.

His discomfort grew when he bumped into other Torches and their owners. Like him, his competitors did not don creature heads, which made a lot of sense, since this allowed them to be recognized, reminding him this was a gathering where Torches and their owners mingled with the rest of the Echelon to garner support.

Their clothing on the other hand, was splendid. He suddenly came to understand what Fenwicke meant earlier. A Torch reflected the wealth and status of his owner, which explained why bondsmen like them, were granted the privilege of donning such exquisite garbs. Otherwise, they would never have such an opportunity.

He felt himself deflate somewhat, as it turned out his ‘gift’ was nothing more than obligatory – just for Kovan to make himself look good. Then again, he wasn’t sure if that was all there was to it, since it seemed like Kovan hadn’t spent nearly as much as the other owners had on his outfit. Or, on himself, for that matter.

Or so Tyler thought, until he caught drifts of curious questions thrown their way. Some of the Echelon folk inquired about the gemstones trimming the neckline of their tunics, and the statement rings adorning their fingers.

Alssya appeared highly pleased they noticed the value of those small pieces of stones where Fenwicke had not. She gave coy smiles, and teased them with little info on where Kovan procured such invaluable pieces. Kovan on the other hand, maintained a modest smile and kept mum, content to let Alssya drum up excitement for it. Only after a several exchanges and pleading, did Kovan relent and graciously offered to lead the way on a suitable day.

The attention given to those little pieces of gemstones was not lost on the other Torch owners. They cast sour looks at Kovan, seemingly annoyed at the notion that his simple-looking garb might actually cost much more than their own. Their hostile gazes, were also reflected on their Torches.

If Tyler thought he might have a chance to converse with them, thinking the party was the occasion where they could break the ice and rivalry, he was sorely mistaken. At first, they seemed to look down at him with a sense of superiority, sneering at his dressing when they brushed by close enough to scoff quietly at his ear. However, as soon as the other Echelon openly coveted his and Kovan’s outfit, the Torches smug sneers turned into jealous, bitter stares.

Tyler ought to be angry, easily agitated like Volcan rocks quick to burst into flame. This time, bewilderment held back his temper, lost in the incredulity of their acidness.

He thought their plight were the same, so he saw no reason to be bitter towards one another.

Thankfully, a distraction offered to pull him out of his perplexed thoughts and sour mood. Someone moderately dressed and without a creature-head, came for Kovan, announcing that his employer have requested that they have a short discussion. Tyler was all too happy to be led away in step behind Kovan, away from the glares that peltered his back.

They left the disk of the thriving party, crossing over to another disk, where their pathway was suddenly reduced to a single, narrow passageway that seemingly cut through the center of the disk, cut off from any view of the outside. The path however, was well lit with Link-ores placed at intervals, offering sufficient light. As they continued on, they passed several arches down the corridor, each with a different curtain offering privacy for what’s on the other side.

Tyler was quite surprised, hadn’t knowing it was possible to partition such an arrangement on the disk. Kovan’s place had been rather open, but then again, he hadn’t exactly explored the other connecting plateaus, since he was strictly instructed never to set foot in them.

The man turned into one of the arches, where it led into a small lounge. He crossed the area, open palm pointing towards another curtained archway.

“Hector awaits,” he slid a gaze to Tyler, “Your Torch may stay here whilst you have your discussions inside.

“Much appreciated,” Kovan nodded his thanks and disappeared behind the heavily embellished drapes.

Tyler guessed Sage-goat must be inside. From his voice, he pegged the other as a much older man in his middle ages, and must be someone with a lot of influence, for Kovan to want to rally closer ties with. Just like Alssya.

Tyler have heard stories about the complex affairs within the Echelon, brought in the form of gossip that found their way to the Lower Quadrant from the bondsmen and runners doing their errands. Able to witness just a glimpse of it now, proved those weren’t just made-up stories.

Curiosity gnawed at him now. What was Kovan discussing with the other that required privacy, far from earshot from the rest of the party? A side glance at the other man who still remained in the lounge with him, stopped him from any attempt to edge closer to the archway to eavesdrop.

The man, of typical dark skin and hair of Middle class, might have guessed his curiosity, for he aimed a stern gaze, cautioning him. Tyler let out a tiny sigh and gave up his ambition before it began, sinking down into the giant cushions on the Silica floor. He only hoped whatever Kovan did, or who he buttered up to, wouldn’t derail his situation.

The man then turned his attention elsewhere – he produced a small, five inch plate of Link-ore, and fiddled with it, producing several lighted spheres that beamed out and floated above it. The man remained at standing, watching the party on-goings. Tyler squinted, catching tiny images of the crowd at the main disk. He guessed other Link-ores must be placed in the other area, connecting to the one in the man’s hand.

Given that he was keeping an eye on the party, Tyler was certain the man must be someone of fair importance under employment. After all, he did spot a few other bondsmen serving drinks and snacks on the party floor, and they were much more plainly dressed, short sleeves revealing the spiral marking on their right forearms. Perhaps the man was like Joah, a right-hand assistant to Hector as Joah was to Kovan.

A while passed as Tyler observed him – having nothing else to do – when the other frowned, seeing something that might be of an issue.

His head snapped to Tyler’s direction as fast as a hawk.

“I have to be excused elsewhere,” he informed, tucking his Link-plate up his sleeves. Right at the arch, he threw back another stern look.

“Stay here. Do not, under any circumstance, enter any of the other rooms.”

Tyler nodded mutely, but inwardly, wasn’t so sure he could be as obedient.