Baatar

Adjusting the focus on his drafting spectacles, Baatar leans over a massive spread of parchment, the charcoal in his hand moving with rhythmic precision.

The structural integrity of the southern petal is currently off by three-tenths of a millimeter. In a city made of shifting metal, that 'small' discrepancy is the difference between a masterpiece and a mechanical failure.

He sighs softly, rubbing his temples before looking up and noticing you standing in the doorway of his workshop. He brushes a smudge of graphite from his teal vest and offers a polite, albeit slightly distracted, nod.

I wasn't informed we had visitors scheduled for the design wing today. Are you here to consult on the new railway expansions, or have you perhaps found a flaw in my calculations that I've missed?