"Lucavion. You've had your dramatic moment. If you'd kindly step back, I'll ensure your discussion with the Master is conducted with the appropriate timing and respect."
"Too late," he said casually. "We already talked."
Kaleran exhaled once through his nose—controlled, but sharp—and then stepped forward with the practiced grace of someone trained to navigate political landmines barefoot.
He gave the old man a curt incline of the head. "Master Harlan," he said, the title crisp with formality, "I attempted to stop him. I did not authorize this breach, nor condone it."
The old man finally turned toward him, pausing just long enough to look—not in anger, not even with irritation, but in that unsettling, forge-born stillness of someone who had seen far too many men try far too hard.
And then—
Clang.
Harlan dropped his hammer.
