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((The belated Wednesday Triple catch-up: page 2 of 3))
‘Let’s take another walk around the train,’ Garovel suggested privately.

Hector supposed that was a good idea and got up to leave again. He’d been actively trying not to get lost in conversation with Garovel so that he could remain vigilant and keep an eye on everyone, and now here he was, letting himself get distracted by Zeff.

He had to remain focused. Even if nothing happened during this trip, that would be fine. He just had to think of it as an exercise in self-discipline. A learning experience.

Something was probably going to happen, though. Any minute now, he figured.

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As he sat in his cell, listening to his chains clink in rhythm with every bump and jostle of the train, Royo Raju tried to keep his head clear and his wits about him. His stomach ached with greater ferocity than at any point since his capture two weeks ago, though it was not due to the fact that they had not been feeding him. In fact, even if they had offered him food, he would have refused it.

He was no stranger to not eating. Every penniless, parentless brat in the Higher West Layer knew what that was like and knew it well. That was why he had spent years of his life in the iron mines of Acacero, working himself to the bone so that he would never have to experience that kind of misery again.

Yet here he sat.

He’d earned enough money to not only pay for his education, but for several others as well. He’d gained enough wealth to start his own business without having to take a loan from one of those murderous banks and end up saddled with debt for the rest of his life. He’d been building his reputation as a consultant in socioeconomics, as someone who knew not just what the public wanted and needed, but what they thought they wanted and needed.

Yet here he sat.