Hunter shook his head. Either Trey was lying, or he missed something.
"I get it," Trey said, reading something in Hunter's expression and grinning. "Really, I do. You asked me how you can trust me. Here."
He pointed to a small picture frame on his desk. He turned it around so that Hunter could see it. It was a picture of Trey and his father, when they were both much younger. They were both holding a necklace. Hunter recognized his fathers, and Trey's was similar. Trey let go of the frame and reached under the collar of his shirt, pulling out the same necklace.
"You can probably guess, but we modelled them after Asutnahem phrases. As far as we could tell, they aren't glyphs, and we only have a rough translation, but it was enough for us to want to take with us. Mine means either 'self knowledge,' or 'seeing beneath the surface' depending on who you ask. His necklace meant either 'truth' or 'power', again, depending on who you ask. To us, the uncertainty was what made them so meaningful," he said. He took the necklace off and studied it with a fond look.
"We'd had a good year. Miserable for business, but we'd made a lot of friends, and discovered a lot about ourselves. The necklaces were your father's idea. We were drunk, and he said something about the mysteries of the world meaning different things depending on your point of view. It was one of the most profound things I'd ever heard. He always was a bit more inclined towards philosophy than I was, and it was a meaningful trophy of our time together. That was something that he and I both understood. Symbols, and a shared vision. I've kept the necklace with me ever since."
Hunter studied the picture in the frame. It was his father. He seemed so young. There was a lightness and humour in his eyes that Hunter had never seen there before. His father's eyes had always seemed either sad, focused, or manically impassioned whenever he was around him. His father had his arm around Trey's shoulder in the picture. Both of them were smiling.
"Did you ever find the necklace?" Hunter asked. He'd held it once, his father's necklace. It was one of his first memories. Trey shook his head.
"No. I always assumed it was lost in the explosion. I'm sorry, Hunter. If I'd found it, I would have had it delivered to you as soon as I could."
Hunter sighed away the faint trace of hope that had bloomed for a beautiful moment.
"What about the briefcase?" Hunter asked, suddenly remembering the final unanswered question he had about his time in Seckina.
Trey raised an eyebrow.
"Briefcase?" He asked.
"You didn't have someone leave a briefcase at my door?" Hunter asked.
Trey seemed confused.
"Apart from the ID and the house, I don't recall having sent you anything. Something from a neighbour, perhaps? What did the briefcase look like? What was inside it?"
Hunter shrugged. Trey didn't seem to know. Hunter followed his gut and bent the truth a bit. Trey didn't have to know everything.
"It was nothing. I'd just always wondered who'd left it there."
"Alright," Trey said, his eyes narrowed. Then he shrugged, "anymore questions?"
"Why didn't you tell me sooner? About my father, about all of this?" Hunter asked, "Why wait until now?"
Trey sighed and considered his hands for a moment.
"A man in my position expects a certain visibility. I can only maintain a certain level of privacy without significant expense. However, even then, there's a risk of detection. To prevent the Council from learning of my involvement, I had to get you out of sight. I'm not proud of this, but we Council Seats hold a certain understanding of how we conduct business with each other. They'd offered me the option to take part in the confiscation of your father's estate, you understand? I declined, but that refusal came with implications. Are you following me?" Trey asked.
Hunter shook his head. Trey pursed his lips.
"Three Council Seats split your family's estate amongst themselves. Invoking emergency policies, the three council members immediately claimed your family's estate. That includes, in their view, any information you had about your father, and any of the work he might have left behind after his passing. The moment I took you away from them, I was directly interfering in their business," Trey explained.
That was enough for Hunter to understand the implication. If they caught wind that Trey had hidden Hunter, he'd be at odds with the rest of the Council.
"So it would have made your relationship with the rest of the Council difficult."
Trey snorted.
"There's a lot going on behind scenes that the public will never know about, but I think it's enough to say that the relationship between the Council Seats is already difficult. In fact," he paused, "never mind. That's not anything you need to worry about. You've had enough on your plate, haven't you? And I realize I haven't answered your question. The rest of the answer is that, to be quite honest — and I hope you'll forgive me, I had no idea what to do with you."
Honestly, it wasn't what Hunter had expected to hear. That's it?
"You didn't know what to do with me?" Hunter asked.
"Yeah," Trey said, "I know. It's not a brilliant answer. I had people check up on you twice, and you seemed like you were working to support yourself. You were still outwardly identifying as Jonathan, and I figured that you'd started moving on with your life."
Hunter wanted to throw something at him.
"Moving on with my life," Hunter repeated. He almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. The great political game, the pressure of being a pawn, a piece on a board, the paranoia he'd suffered for years — and it was all just a misunderstanding? A snap judgement? A convenient delusion?
Hunter realized he was shaking his head as he thought. Trey raised a hand to forestall any objection to what he'd said.
"Your reaction is valid. I understand. This all brings me to the second reason I brought you here today," Trey said, standing up from his seat and turning to take in the view behind him.
"Jimmy told me a bit about what you went through while you were living there. I heard about the gang — I'm sorry about that, too. I should have taken more of an interest in what was going on around that neighbourhood. I dropped the ball, and I'd like to make it up to you."
Again, Hunter didn't trust himself to speak, so he let Trey continue.
"Jimmy's telling me you'd signed up for the competition under your real name shocked me. I'd never forgotten about you, but over the years I'd found reasons to expect that you could take care of yourself. Naturally, I had other priorities."
Hunter wished he didn't understand where Trey was coming from. He wanted to disagree with Trey, and say that a man with his resources can and should do better. But couldn't he relate to Trey? Basic survival needs—food, rent, and work—consumed his attention, leaving no room for worries about the Council, conspiracies, or gang violence. He understood that there was only so much that a person could focus on at once.
Hunter wanted to be mad at Trey, but he found he couldn't be. At least, not completely. He felt annoyed by his wasted time spent being paranoid and angry at nothing. But there was a whisper at the back of his mind — what would he have done differently if he wasn't worried? His drive, use of sensitivity, and interest in etherium might not have been as strong without a world to hide from or a dark fate to overcome.
"Announcing yourself to the world has raised a problem," Trey said, interrupting Hunter's thoughts. "I've received memos from all the interested parties inquiring about your identity and status. Of course, I've held off from answering them over the last few days, but I expect that soon those inquiries will be nowhere near as polite as they have been. So we are on a very strict timetable to find and deploy a solution. I've thought of one, of course, but I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter."
He turned away from the view as he spoke, glancing at Hunter.
"I doubt you were unaware of the dangers of revealing yourself, so what changed, and what do you want?"
Hunter took a few seconds to think about what he wanted to say. The entire conversation had felt overwhelming. He needed a second to remember why he was here, and what led him here. He almost laughed when he considered that choice he'd made a few days prior. It already felt like it was a month ago.
"It was an accident, during the preliminary test," he said, thinking back to that critical moment when he faced the choice of continuing on, or running away. "As I handed in the test, I realized I'd written my real name instead of my fake name. I had considered the consequences, but I was tired of being Jonathan. I figured joining the competition as Hunter would be worth whatever problems arose — better than being forced to join the Comics," Hunter said.
He'd spent considerable time planning this conversation, anticipating the man's needs, and strategizing how to influence his vision for the future. He had to sell this vision to a man who wanted for nothing.
But so far, Trey had defied Hunter's expectations. Hunter felt like his expectations were constantly off the mark over the last few days, but that was a problem for another time.
"I think I did pretty well in the competition. Well enough to prove that I'd be an asset," he said, not sure how to word what he was thinking. He wanted to leverage his potential for an optimal contract. That had been his goal with this meeting, more so than finding answers.
He took another moment to consider what he'd learned during this conversation, and what it meant. His father's innocence was a matter of great concern to him. He didn't care about what Trey's investigation turned up. As far as he knew, that was still the case. An absence of evidence is not evidence of an absence. The lack of visible evidence doesn't prove a conspiracy didn't exist. Trey's answer about why he'd kept him in the dark for all the years he'd lived in Seckina felt anticlimactic, but seemed pretty reasonable. He understood where Trey was coming from, and Hunter took it for what it was:
A peace offering, a sign of vulnerability. The image he'd built up in his mind of Trey had been one of an intimidating figure. A Council Seat, a king who manipulated a thousand strings a day, controlling the fate of his corporation's domain, and the fates of all of those who lived their lives within it. And maybe that was still true.
However, that he'd had been left alone all those years because Trey had felt—what, awkward about the situation? It felt so shallow compared to what he'd expected. On one hand, it turned out that Trey was just a human being after all.
He had been transparent about that, and was now apologizing for it.
Hunter didn't like the fact that he wanted to trust Trey Oberon. He wanted to see him as nothing more than a means to an end, a tool of his own ambition.
In a way, he almost wished that Trey would see him the same way. It would have been so much easier. Now, he had to sit here and consider the fact that maybe Trey wasn't a cold, calculating monarch. Maybe Mrs. Verilion was right about Trey differing from the rest of the Council Seats.
Hunter considered Trey's question.
What did he want? The answer was obvious; he hadn't been planning on revealing his endgame, but why not? Since Trey had been so open with Hunter, maybe he could expedite the process for Hunter.
"I want to leave Sanctuary," he said.
"Outworld?" Trey exclaimed, his eyes wide. "That's not what I was expecting."
Trey rubbed his chin as he thought. Hunter took that as a good sign. He wasn't rejecting the prospect outright.
"Do you know what it takes to get a spot on a ship?" Trey asked. Hunter shook his head. Trey seemed to have a thought, one that pleased him. He smiled.
"It takes accreditation. It takes a high level of accreditation for a company to assume liability for your presence on their ships. Ships are expensive, as is operating them. Letting anyone aboard a ship means taking a risk — it means making an investment," Trey said.
Hunter nodded, deflating. So he might have his wish granted all at once.
But …
"I'm not hearing 'no'," Hunter said, still hopeful. Trey laughed.
"No, you're not. Look, the reason I mentioned the attention your success garnered during the competition wasn't to make you feel you owed me something — it's so that you understand the position that you and I are in. I think we can make a deal here, a compromise."
He had Hunter's full attention.
"Placing 5th during the Youth Artisan competition isn't a big deal. But you did it alone, with an AR of 5. Now, that is a big deal. I'm sure that's not lost on you," Trey said.
Hunter nodded.
"Of course not. Joyce was right to give you a chance. I gave her a promotion, by the way, so her bet paid off," Trey said. "You're a smart kid. You've got to be smart to pull off the performance you made. I had some of my people analyze and explain to me your submissions and your results. You impressed a lot of very capable artisans, Hunter. Apparently, the crisscross channels you used on the batteries are something revolutionary. Some of your design choices, and these aren't my words, 'shouldn't work as well as they do, yet somehow they do.'"
Hunter felt like he'd heard similar words before, in a similar meeting, where it felt like his fate was being decided by forces outside of his control.
Trey crossed his hands and placed them on his desk, smiling at Hunter.
"I would be derelict of my duties as a leader of the Oberon Enterprises' domain to let such a rising star slip away. This is an opportunity, might I add, that is made necessary by your choice to announce your identity to the world."
Hunter asked the obvious question.
"What kind of opportunity?"
"The opportunity to foster and protect an incredible young talent. And that's just from my point of view as a businessman. As your father was one of my oldest friends, and as I feel I owe you a debt. So, it is my personal duty, and honour, to offer the possibility of extending the Oberon's name to you. I know it's a big deal, but there is a pragmatic element to it," Trey said, studying Hunter's reaction. "You know what I'm offering you, right?"
Hunter's confusion must have shown on his face.
"I'm offering to extend to you not only the benefit of the protection that comes from joining this corporation, but the protection and privilege inherent in being a part of the family that owns the corporation."