We had left the stadium, and I was walking to and from in front of Slava’s car, rubbing my hands on my legs as I walked.

  Perhaps Mother could—

  No, she wouldn’t. She thinks that now that he's won, she has been proven right. Perhaps I can ask Slava? Maybe, but I don’t know if he will after yesterday’s argument.

  He was approaching now, a look of apprehension on his face. I had to know. “Slava, do you think you can get that civvies black cloak removed?”

  His head snapped toward me as if he hadn’t seen me. “What? No, no, I can’t, there—”

  “You have to try! Please! Look at the way he spoke about Mother! About my father! Why can he say that with no consequence? Why can he do as he wants? He should be thrown into the fifth floor and left to rot!”

  My voice disgusted me. It sounded like a teenage girl begging for a new toy. The words were right, why did my voice betray me? Why did those stupid B-rankers betray me? Why aren't things going my way? I planned so long for this, and he just walked through it like it was nothing. Like all my plans weren’t even in motion.

  He had paused, looking at me with pity in his eyes, like I was a lost puppy, “Sofia, I know how this must feel, but there is nothing to be done. Your Mother…” he paused, as if he were going to say something, but then decided against it.

  “Once someone earns the black cloak, it’s theirs. Even if they make a bloody fool of themselves in their speech accepting it. ”

  Tears were streaming down my face, “I don’t want anyone to be executed… but… but Slava, why does she let him get away with it? Why didn’t she help me?”

  Slava was standing in front of me before I even realized, wiping the tears off my face as he held me in his arms. “I try not to badmouth her in front of you, but it’s because she’s a hypocritical bitch who doesn’t understand that her daughter is the greatest thing this tower has ever seen.”

  He cupped my cheeks, making me look him in the eye, “And we can prove that. Together. Now… we are going to go home, and you can relax until that stupid dinner on Wednesday. And only after that will I allow you to start thinking of your tournament, okay?”

  I placed my head against Slava's chest, wrapping my arms around him, “But I have to talk to Johannes first. He must build me that bomb I told you about.”

  “Fine,” he said, and I could almost hear him rolling his eyes as he pulled back and held up one finger to my face, “But that’s it. Nothing until after Wednesday, got it?”

  I laughed a little, and I hugged him tightly as my anger finally left me. With just a few words and a simple hug, any thoughts on our argument were gone. I was even slightly less disgusted with the civvie. And with that, came clarity.

  I can’t make that stupid brute relinquish the black cloak, but I can put him in his place. Perhaps, with a little bit of… education from Calder, he might even prove useful.

  “Yeah, I got it,” I said, nodding into Slava’s chest. “Only if we can have ice cream tonight though.”

  “Little brat, you can’t threaten me with a good time. Get in the car, we’re going to see that madman,” he said, opening the door for me.

  “Now?” I asked as I got into the car.

  “Of course, when else would we go?”

  A short trip later, I was walking into Johannes’s warehouse. The crystals light flooded into the place, far larger than B sector or anything else I’d seen, with long rows of machinery stretching wall to wall. Shieldmen and high rankers alike attended to them, working side by side to ensure that every machine was up to standard.

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  This was one of the many places where every device, weapon, or other commodity was produced for the tower. And I was here to see the man in charge of it all.

  He was usually outside the tower, letting his subordinates do all the work during the year. But when Mother or Slava were preparing to conquer a new floor, he was here. Hopefully, the weapon I wanted to manufacture would be a welcome addition, rather than a hindrance. He wouldn’t make it otherwise.

  Slava walked alongside me, and I was reminded why I didn’t like walking with him in public. He received so much attention that I was made to share. Every blessed who saw his golden halo would stop what they were doing to salute him. He always smiled at them, nodding with respect to every single one of them as we walked past.

  We heard a loud crash from the end of the warehouse, followed by smoke rising into the air. And by the screeching, I assumed we had found our host.

  We followed the smoke trail, arriving at what looked like a jet fifty years from the future, its engines ablaze. And under that marvel, stood a tall, lanky man with a permanent scowl etched into his face. He was screaming at the machine on fire in front of him.

  “You can theoretically work you douchebag! Why don’t you actually work? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  We waited patiently as a tired-looking lieutenant walked forward, tapped his left shoulder, and pointed a hand at the machine. Smoke stopped flowing upward and started flowing into his hand, and the fire dimmed as if the oxygen was being sapped out of it. It died a moment later.

  Johannes barked orders at people, occasionally stopping to threaten the machine. He kicked it once more for good measure… then he started cursing at his toes, hopping from one foot to the other.

  “Do we interfere? Or would that make it worse?” I asked skeptically.

  “No idea. To be honest, I’m just enjoying the show,” Slava said, an amused expression on his face.

  Finally, the cursing man saw us, and a wide smile spread across his face. He turned angrily to one of his subordinates, shouted at them, then walked over to me.

  “Llorona! It’s been so long! What happened to your face? And Slava, your as ugly as I remember! Strange to see you two together again,” He said, staring down at me with a smile that seemed unnatural on his face.

  “My apologies, sir. I am not Llorona, I am her daughter, Sofia. Do you remember me?” I said, staring up at him.

  A perplexed look grew on his face before the smile returned. Although, it wasn’t as wide as it was earlier. “That explains the face. Well, it doesn't matter. Hello Sofia! Why are you here?”

  I glanced at Slava, who stood casually, his hands at his sides as he inspected the machinery. I felt a rush of pride. He knew I could do this on my own.

  “I want to know if you can combine fire extinguishing foam with a grenade so that when it explodes, it covers a large area with said fire extinguishing foam. I assume you would have to use an accelerant of some kind. If you can create something like that or something that puts out fire on a large scale that works similarly, I need you to make it. Preferably within the next six days.”

  His smile had grown smaller at every word I spoke, and had finally disappeared. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

  “Because it would be beneficial to the tower.”

  “Oh really? Is that the only reason?”

  I looked him square in the eye, “Of course not. I am going to fight in the tournament next week. One of my opponents uses fire, this will be my weapon against them. I also get to use this invention to show all the blessed what their future leader is capable of.”

  His mouth hung open, then a grin spread across his face, “So, some spoilt fucking princess walks into my house and expects me to drop everything for some shitty idea just so she can brag?”

  He tapped his left shoulder, and then his pupils expanded, until his eyes were pitch black, like they had been covered in oil. His ability gave him the knowledge of how to create something. Anything. And the materials he would need to do so.

  He had built the leviathans, and the shields, and the machines to manufacture the shields at scale, and… well. Everything else produced in the tower.

  He crossed his arms as a smug expression crossed his face, “And your idea is so shit it probably…”

  His face widened with surprise, then contorted with Glee, “Esmeralda! Get your ass over here and write this down!” He looked at Slava as his eyes went back to normal, “I assume you want something? Well, too bad. You know you need to put that basketball hoop away when you walk in here. Come back in five days to collect, okay asshole?”

  “Sure dickhead. See you on Friday.” Slava said happily, putting an arm around my shoulder as we walked away.

  A wide-eyed-looking woman rushed past us halfway through the warehouse, and a moment later I heard Johannes screech a butchered approximation of my idea at her.

  “Was that a yes?” I asked as we walked through the exit.

  Slava Shrugged, “Eh, close enough.”