Mod Superhero

Chapter. 7.34 - Amarque

Several guests reclined in the upper suite of Vault Alpha. At any time, the Vault hosted a variety of visiting mages, supers, diplomats, politicians, businessmen, defense contractors, and even celebrities. Summit members also rotated through the Vault, acting as both ambassadors and additional security. It was a tradition that started shortly after Vault Alpha's construction, and would get more and more annoying as additional Vaults were built.

The Vault's guest wing was the only section housing non-prisoners, and the only section where its occupants could freely move about. Amarque's guest suite was respectable enough, but boring, and so he spent most of his time in the suite drinking, mingling with other guests, and changing the furniture to his liking.

All mage guilds had the same taste—lacquered wood, rune-lit sconces, and reinforced stone, but usually there was a view to go along with it. Here in the Vault, there was nothing but classic architecture and medieval comfort.

To Amarque, it was dreary.

So, he fixed it.

With a snap of his fingers, his armchair elongated into a throne-backed piece upholstered in crimson velvet—one that complemented his suit, of course. Another snap, and the bland brass lamp on the end table folded in on itself, twisting into something taller and sharper, casting its light through cut crystal. The air shimmered faintly with each change, a reminder that these were temporary indulgences, conjured from the surface of reality rather than carved into its fiber. Permanent warps were possible, of course, but they cost effort.

He leaned back, swirling his drink lazily, letting the new contours of his borrowed suite settle around him like a cloak of indulgence. Reality was his to shape, at least in passing. Why suffer bland furniture when the universe was so pliable?

A guard-mage stood in the corner. Young, forgettable, and stiff-backed in their uniform. Their eyes flicked now and then to Amarque's reality-warped furniture, but they said nothing. He hadn't bothered to remember their name. Clearly, they resented being stationed up here—that much was obvious in their clenched jaw and weary posture.

Amarque could sympathize; he too hated being placed somewhere just to fill space, like at his current station. But sympathy only went so far.

When his glass ran low, he lifted it with a lazy flick. "Another."

The mage hesitated, then obeyed.

Why waste his own energy, after all, when someone else could waste theirs?

Amarque's gaze drifted to the other side of the lounge. Councilor Eliane Dresk stood with Ambassador Rina Veyne, the two women murmuring about the construction of a third Vault in Europe while Vault Beta still limped toward completion. Amarque smirked faintly into his glass. Dresk's ruthlessness was the only thing keeping her in office, but the Brotherhood would sweep her aside soon enough. She just hadn't realized she was already obsolete.

The guard-mage returned with his drink. Amarque accepted it without thanks, watching Dresk and Veyne continue their hushed debate, and felt the corners of his mouth curl. The Vault's walls might have been thick, but nothing here was as solid as it appeared.

Despite the occasional moments where he lounged in silence, Amarque hadn't been alone since his station began. Even in his guest room, he could feel the latent magical surveillance. It wasn't personal—no more so than the Brotherhood's incessant monitoring—but it was annoying.

Better to be in the main suite where there was no illusion of privacy.

And so Amarque passed his rotation at Vault Alpha, lounging in style and with occasional small talk, his attention only half-invested.