The pieces were all pointing in the sa direction—toward conflict, toward violence, toward so kind of breaking point that would reshape the entire power structure of the Pantheon and possibly the city beyond it.
"And you?" I asked, steering the conversation back toward safer ground while also genuinely wanting to know the answer. "Personally, I an. How are you handling all of it? The pressure, the politics, the constant awareness that you’re standing in the middle of what could beco a warzone at any mont?"
Tora blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question shifting from abstract politics to his personal wellbeing, like he hadn’t expected anyone to actually care about how he was doing rather than just what information he could provide.
"I’m fine?" he said, though it ca out more like a question than a statent, uncertainty coloring every syllable. "I think? The Director keeps busy with constant tasks and responsibilities. There’s always sothing that needs organizing, or soone who needs escorting, or docunts that need filing, or accounts that need balancing, or—"
He cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head with self-conscious embarrassnt. "Sorry. You probably don’t want to hear about administrative minutiae and the thrilling world of bureaucratic organization."
"Actually," I said, settling deeper into the chair and crossing my legs with deliberate casualness, "that’s exactly what I want to hear about. Because I need to figure out what the fuck you’re going to do here, in this theater, as part of our operation. Where you fit into everything we’re building."
His head tilted with that characteristic confusion, incomprehension written all over his delicate features as he tried to parse what I was actually asking. I gestured vaguely at the room around us, then at the theater beyond the walls, encompassing everything in a single sweeping motion.
"You’re here now. Working for . Or with . Whatever the exact arrangent is—we can iron out those details later. And I need to figure out where you fit into the structure we’ve built, what role you’ll actually play beyond just existing in our space."
I paused, choosing my words with more care than usual because this actually mattered. "Glasswicks are forbidden from acts of intimacy, right? The whole vow of celibacy thing is pretty strict and non-negotiable. So having you work as a sex slave like most of our other people is completely off the table from the start."
Tora’s blush returned with catastrophic vengeance, spreading all the way to his ears and probably down his chest beneath those pristine white robes, turning his entire upper body into a study in embarrassnt rendered in shades of pink and red.
"Y-yes," he managed to stamr out, his voice cracking slightly on the single syllable. "That’s absolutely correct. The vows are quite strict about that. Violating them would result in imdiate consequences that I really don’t want to experience ever."
"Right, so that’s definitively off the table," I confird, tapping my fingers against the armrest in a rhythm that helped think, the sound providing a counterpoint to the crackling fire. "Which ans we need to find sothing else for you to do. Sothing that actually utilizes your skills and training instead of just having you sit around looking decorative, though you are very good at that."
I leaned forward slightly, genuine curiosity replacing my usual performance. "What did you actually do for the Director? Besides the obvious attendant stuff like fetching things, looking pretty, and standing quietly in corners."
He straightened at the question, like I’d accidentally activated so dormant sense of professional pride that had been waiting for soone to acknowledge his actual capabilities.
"I handled his accounts," he said, and his voice gained confidence with each word, becoming steadier and more assured than I’d heard it in this entire conversation. "All of them, actually. The tower’s complete operational budget, tracking every expenditure for maintenance and supplies, managing the paynts to all the Velvets and staff, calculating and recording the market values of every slave and their assignnts, projecting future costs based on current trends..."
He was building montum now, getting into it. "I also managed all his correspondence with other power players in the city, organized his schedule down to the minute, maintained comprehensive records of every disciplinary action taken in the tower, tracked resource allocation across all departnts..."
He trailed off suddenly, seeming to realize he’d been listing things in that particular way people do when they’re passionate about their work but worried they’re boring their audience. "I’m sorry. That’s probably incredibly boring to hear about. Numbers and spreadsheets aren’t exactly thrilling."
"No," I said imdiately, leaning forward even further with genuine interest lighting up my expression. "That’s actually perfect. Like, genuinely perfect in a way I didn’t expect. You’re telling you can do real accounting? Not just ’count coins and hope the numbers add up at the end’ but actual financial managent with projections and tracking and all that complicated shit that makes my brain hurt?"
He nodded with tentative confirmation, like he still wasn’t entirely sure where I was going with this. "I was trained extensively in the Glasswick curriculum. Mathematics at an advanced level, comprehensive record-keeping systems, financial projection thodologies, resource allocation optimization—it was considered essential knowledge for anyone who might end up managing a noble household or high-level operation."
A smirk pulled at my lips, slow and satisfied, because this was actually solving a problem I hadn’t quite figured out how to address yet.
"Tora, you beautiful, organized, mathematically-inclined bastard. Do you have any idea how desperately we need soone who can actually track where our money is going? Who can tell us if we’re hemorrhaging funds or building capital? Who can look at our operation and tell us if we’re being financially responsible or living on borrowed ti?"
His blush sohow intensified even further, which I hadn’t thought was physically possible without actually catching fire. "I—thank you? I think? That’s a complint, right?"
"That’s absolutely a complint," I clarified, because apparently that needed to be stated explicitly. "We’re currently running this entire place on vibes, spite, and whatever money we can scrape together through increasingly questionable ans. Having soone who actually knows what a proper ledger looks like, who understands how to organize finances beyond ’put coins in box, take coins out of box when needed’—that would be genuinely life-changing for our operation."
He ducked his head again with that combination of pleased and embarrassed that seed to be his default response to praise, and I felt that uncomfortable twist in my chest return with renewed intensity.
He was so earnest, so genuinely sincere in all his reactions, never performing or calculating or trying to manipulate. It made want to both protect him from the harsh realities of this world and exploit his talents for everything they were worth, which was probably a concerning combination of impulses but I’d learned to live with being morally complicated.
But even as I said it, even as I watched him process the praise with that adorable mixture of pride and embarrassnt, sothing nagged at the back of my mind like a persistent itch I couldn’t quite reach.
Having a Glasswick—soone with his level of training, his elevated status within the city’s hierarchy, his inherent value as a rare and precious commodity—handling bookkeeping and financial records felt like using a masterwork sword forged by legendary craftsn to cut vegetables in your kitchen.
Functional, absolutely. It would work perfectly fine. But also sohow wasteful, like squandering potential on tasks that didn’t fully utilize what made him special in the first place.
"Although," I said slowly, letting the thought develop as I spoke it aloud, "having you just do accounting and financial managent still feels like we’re underselling your potential in a pretty significant way. You’re a fucking Glasswick, Tora. The Director’s personal attendant, trained from childhood in arts and skills that most people never even get to witness. People would literally kill to have soone like you in their establishnt, would go to war over the privilege of claiming you as part of their operation, and not just for your organizational skills or your ability to balance a budget."
He looked up at with confusion flickering across his delicate features, head tilting slightly in that questioning gesture that made him look even more like a confused puppy than usual.
I could see him trying to work out where I was going with this, what angle I was pursuing, because Tora was smart enough to know that complints from usually led sowhere specific.
"Do you have any talents?" I asked directly, deciding to just cut to the point instead of dancing around it. "Besides the administrative stuff and the financial managent and the general competence. Anything you’re particularly good at that sets you apart, that makes you special beyond just being really organized and good with numbers?"
He hesitated for a long mont, biting his lower lip in that nervous gesture I’d seen him do countless tis when wrestling with whether or not to share sothing personal. Then he nodded, the motion so small and tentative I almost missed it despite watching him directly.
"What is it?" I pressed, leaning forward with genuine curiosity now.
His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, like he was confessing sothing shaful instead of sharing a skill. "Glasswicks are trained to master at least one talent in the arts as part of our comprehensive education. Sothing to make us more presentable to high society, more valuable to our potential patrons beyond just our administrative capabilities. A demonstration of refinent and culture."
I felt my interest spike imdiately, sitting up straighter in the chair. "What did you learn? What’s your artistic specialty?"
The words ca out so quietly I almost didn’t hear them over the crackling fire. "I can sing."
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