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Pamarthe – Brune Family Hangar
Lioras walked the rocky path down toward the old family hangar, his boots crunching against the gravel. The conversation from minutes ago still echoed in his mind. He felt angry. Resentful. But mostly, he felt alone. He was tired of this dynamic—tired of the same story playing out over and over again, with nothing ever changing.
Eventually, his thoughts quieted as he reached the hangar. It stood alone in the clearing, a building that once looked proud—like it had a purpose. Now it was laid bare, forgotten, invisible to the world. Its shape felt wrong somehow, unnatural, like even the building didn't understand why it was still here. Rust covered the walls. Cobwebs clung to every corner. The roof sagged with holes that hadn't been patched in decades.
He supposed that was just the Brune family charm coming through.
Lioras stepped up to the door. The handle still bore the handprints of those who came before him—ghosts of ancestors who had opened it the same way. He gripped it and pulled. The door groaned and screeched like it always did, but the sound was familiar. Comforting, in a strange way.
Inside, she sat.
The Brunes' pride and joy. The one thing that set them apart from the rest of the working-class village, even if their financial struggles were the same. The ship was beautiful in Lioras's eyes. Gorgeous, despite its battered exterior. The scratches, the missing bolts, the gaping holes in the hull—they only added to its beauty. The damage told a story not many could understand.
But Lioras understood. He understood better than most what it was like to be judged by your exterior, and never truly seen for what you were on the inside.
He inhaled deeply through his nose, taking in the scent of oil, dust, and memory. This place—the ship, the hangar—it was a sanctuary. A place where silence gave him strength.
Until he remembered why he was here.
Lioras let out a laugh—dry, hollow, lifeless. He wasn't here to find peace. He was here for a job. A job only he could do. The one thing that made his brothers and father look at him with something close to respect. They'd never say it out loud, but he saw it in their eyes. In these moments, when they needed him, he was their hope.
This was the part they needed him for. The part that made sense.
And now, it was time to get to work.
He breathed through his nose, watching the cold air bloom in front of him.
Grabbing his old, worn-out T-shirt, he rolled up the sleeves, revealing arms that were lean but defined—muscle built from years of work, not vanity. It was the kind of strength that came from being the family's tool, the one who fixed what no one else could.
His steps moved with quiet purpose as he climbed into the ship, his old boots echoing against the metal floor.
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Pamarthe – Brune Family Hangar - Inside Ship
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Lioras finally stopped walking as he reached the navigation core. He could already tell this wasn't going to be easy—the damage was obvious, the system's loud beeps echoing through the hollow corridors of the ship. His genius could only go so far when he was handed junk to work with.
Seriously, how did his father expect him to fix this by sunrise? With this?
He probably wanted him to fail.
Lioras chuckled under his breath.
"Probably does. He might respect me sometimes, but that doesn't mean he'll ever accept me."
He sighed and shook his head, trying to push the thought away before it dug in too deep.
"Okay… let's see what's wrong with you, you old rust bucket."
He grabbed a screwdriver from the floor and pressed it to the side of the nav core's metal casing. With a few twists, the pins came loose, and the panel dropped open.
A low whistle escaped him as he stared inside.
"Damn," he muttered. "How do you even let something this small get this bad?"
The wiring was a mess—burnt, tangled, half-melted in places. He didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified.
"This is gonna be a long night."
He gathered a torch, a blowtorch, and a few other tools from the nearby crate, then knelt beside the open panel. The blowtorch hissed to life, casting flickering light across the chamber as he got to work.
Slow progress. But progress.
And yeah—this was definitely going to be a long night.
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