Cliff straightened the tangles in his hair, dragging his fingers along his head and down his chin before they settled to pinch at the stubble, itchy on his jaw. Normally, he shaved every other day, but he’d been busy, and he hadn’t found the time. His eyes traced the stage in front of them as he idly counted the days since his last shave. Four – no, five? He shook his head. There were bigger things to worry about.
The auditorium was packed full, the academy’s thousand-odd students filling most of the first rows while the rest of the place was full of visitors, citizens of Westholden and students’ friends and family. Cliff had nearly forgotten to attend the ceremony, but Thalos had stopped him before he rushed off to work on the depressurizer. It was a little irritating that he had to attend the glorified waste of time when he could be working – they’d been making great progress, and with a solid, final push, they might just make it on time to actually demonstrate something to the Hierophant.
“Stability,” he muttered to himself as the crowd around him broke out in applause. Mimicking the rest, he brought his hands together as the man gave a simple bow of his head before filing off the stage. Cliff scanned the program loosely discarded on his lap, trying to figure out who had just been speaking. The applause died as Cliff spotted him on the schedule – the man was a representative of the Courier Alliance, the first of three keynote speakers. Cliff wondered if he was miffed at the fact that he’d been made to make the first speech – that meant he was the least important, right? Probably not, if Cliff’s suspicions about the next two speakers were correct.
“Thank you, Mr. Pollum. As always, we’re honored by the Courier Alliance’s continued support of our humble academy’s educational endeavors,” Thalos’s auntie called from the stage, her own little claps sharply ringing over the auditorium’s magetool speaker system. “Next, I would like to introduce the second keynote speaker for this year’s Harvest Festival, a representative from the Marifond Federation’s military. This year, I have the great honor of introducing the commander-in-chief of the Crestfall army, General Kratus Faldmen.” She gestured to the side and new applause rang out, much more enthusiastic than the response to the Courier Alliance representative.
A finger poked into his side, and he turned to make eye contact with Jenna. She raised an impressed eyebrow, and Cliff nodded. General Faldmen was Loria’s father, supreme commander of the Crestfall army. Crestfall was Marifond’s capital, and by that fact, Loria’s poppa was the leader of the country’s army in all but name.
He turned back to the stage, studying the general as he walked towards the podium. He was tall, with a stark grey uniform that matched his gunsteel hair. The left side of his chest was decorated with a handful of medals, but far fewer than Cliff might have expected from someone so highly ranked. His back was straight and he moved with deliberate steps, not rigid but purposeful. The thunderous applause did not seem to phase him, but it would be surprising if it did – he was used to leading armies much larger than the crowd in the academy’s auditorium.
The clapping continued well after General Faldmen took his place behind the stage’s lectern, his hard eyes slowly scanning the crowd. Finally, the noise died, and for a moment he continued to look at them, tight smile on his face. “Good morning everyone,” he finally said, “I am General Kratus Faldmen, general of the Crestfall City army, and I have the great privilege of representing the Marifond military at this year’s Westholden Harvest Festival.” A few more sparse claps, and he paused. “More than that, though, I am a thrilled graduate of this great academy, back to visit his alma mater.” Cliff nodded to himself – Loria had mentioned that nearly everyone in her family had come through the academy. She was the first to enroll in the Courier college, though.
“Competence, integrity, discipline. These are what makes a good soldier, a good magepriest, a good Courier. Great men and women do not come from nowhere, but are the product of rigorous years of effort and instruction. When I was a student here, a professor of mine once told me that your journey through life should be viewed as the sculpting or painting of a masterpiece. It’s not a single chip from a block of stone nor a single brushstroke that brings beauty to the art. No, by themselves, each bit of stone chipped away or line of paint brushed onto a canvas may seem insignificant, trivial in the grand scheme of an artwork. However, a great change cannot be made without thousands of smaller shifts beneath it. It may be true that, as students, you have not yet reached the point where you can call yourself a masterwork – I myself strive to make progress every day, and I know I will be working towards that masterpiece for the rest of my life. This festival is, however, the perfect chance to take a moment to pause and appreciate the progress you’ve made, to showcase what you can do.” He paused to smile slightly wider. “I have never been one for words, so I will leave it at that. I, as much as the rest of you, am eagerly anticipating the festivities of the next several days. I hope you all make the most of your time to demonstrate your talents – I know I am looking forward to seeing the fruits of your efforts. Thank you.” Another round of thunderous applause, and Cliff found himself frowning. The speech was surprisingly normal. The way Loria had been anticipating her poppa’s arrival, he’d expected someone just about cut from stone, but General Faldmen didn’t seem like that at all. He’d expected the man’s words to be – more industrial, perhaps. He certainly hadn’t expected the man who raised Loria to be a rulebook-turned-woman to spend most of his speech talking about art. Still, she, of course, knew her poppa better than Cliff did, so he would reserve his judgment until he actually had a chance to have a conversation with the man.
***
The slow file out of the auditorium was agony for Cliff, and he couldn’t help but fidget as his mind zipped up and down the circuits of the depressurizer. Stability was the issue of the day – and he had a few ideas he wanted to test with Paolo before they finalized the design for the research presentation. Two days, they had – two days to finish building, testing, tweaking, and verifying everything they possibly could before Paolo’s progress would be judged. It almost made him nauseous, thinking of the deadline, and the longer he was trapped behind a crowd of people, the more he wanted to lower his shoulder and barrel through everyone in his way.
Jenna reached out from beside him, tucking her hand under his elbow. He turned towards her with an absent smile – the clock circuit was the big issue, right? They had to somehow stop it from breaking down at the absurd speed they were demanding from it to keep the isolation going. “What did you think of the speeches?” Jenna asked, shaking Cliff from his thoughts.
“I – ah,” he started, pausing to consider her question. He shrugged his shoulder. “I only really listened to Loria’s poppa.” Surprisingly, the final speech had not come from the Hierophant, but the high priest of the cathedral in Minton. There also hadn’t been any mention that the Church’s top dog was coming to the academy for the festival, so he figured that was still a secret. “He seemed – well, normal enough, I guess. Warmer, maybe, than I expected.” Jenna let out a little laugh, and Cliff frowned. “What?”
“It’s a good joke – warmer than you expected,” she said. Noticing his blank expression, she explained after a moment. “Don’t you know he’s called the Fireshell general? He’s famous for his mastery over fire, both with his Gift and his PMT. Warm, fire – you get it.”
“Huh,” Cliff said, nodding slowly, “I didn’t know that, but I suppose the joke makes sense now that I do.” It also explained a few things, like Loria’s insistence on using her bloated fire node and her intense skill with it. “Still, I was surprised he smiled at all – when we met Loria, she always had an expression on her face like there was a rock stuck in her shoe.”
“I think you got that face more than anyone else, Cliff,” Jenna said, leaning into him as they moved around a woman holding two small, crying children in her arms, “but people aren’t their parents, you know.” Cliff nodded – he certainly was quite a bit different from either his poppa or his momma. Jenna hesitated a moment before continuing. “Speaking of parents, you’re planning on coming to the luncheon, right?”
Cliff frowned for a moment. “Luncheon?” His eyebrows went up as he remembered – there was going to be a meet-and-greet type of thing where the current Apprentice Couriers and all their guests would have a chance to talk and get to know each other. He didn’t have anyone coming, so he hadn’t really taken the time to consider the social events. Plus, he had other things going on. He breathed a little sigh. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he said, “Normally, I’d love to, but – well, with this research presentation coming up, I don’t really have the time to think about anything else.”
“Oh,” Jenna said, sounding discouraged. Her mouth hung open for a second before it clicked shut. She drew her face closer to Cliff’s. “You can’t take just – I don’t know – an hour to come and talk? I – I mean, my parents – I want you-” She cut off, but her eyes remained fixed expectantly on him.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Cliff tried to imagine going to the luncheon – after a moment, he shook his head. “I don’t think I can.” His eyes opened, and Jenna’s expression had shifted to one that demanded an explanation. “I – I already promised my advisor I’d come straight after the opening ceremony. Honestly, I nearly skipped out here, but Thalos reminded me that attendance was mandatory.” Her mouth opened to protest, but he raised a hand, pressing his fingertips to her cheek. “I’m sorry, really. It’s – important.” He couldn’t exactly tell her the Hierophant was coming to his research presentation – Paolo had made him promise to keep that secret. He’d expected the cat to be out of the bag by now, but, well, it wasn’t, so the secret wasn’t his to share. “Besides,” he continued, forcing some humor into his voice, “I’d hardly make a good impression right now – scruffy and exhausted as I am, your momma and poppa would start wondering about your taste in men.”
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For a moment, she didn’t seem to be receptive to his humor, but finally, she sighed and nodded. “Okay, if you say it’s important, fine. Just – I hope you make the time for them sometime this week.” She didn’t seem fully convinced, but she didn’t seem too angry, either.
Cliff pinched her cheek lightly with his fingers, and she swatted his hand away. “I will,” he said with a grin, “and give them my most heartfelt apologies that I won’t be able to meet them today. Tell them your man is off doing big, important things.”
“I’ll say nothing of the sort – in fact, I might just tell them that you’re a flakey man with no respect for their time.” She smirked, eyes narrowed. “If I lower their expectations enough, you might actually impress them when you finally meet.” The line was moving again, and she tugged him forward towards the exit. “Personally, I think you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
“Well now you’re making me nervous.” Truth be told, meeting Jenna’s parents was about five pegs down from the top of his list of worries – it wasn’t that he didn’t think it was a big deal. He knew it was important to her, so he considered it important to him as well. Only – there were bigger, more pressing things to worry about. Hopefully her momma and poppa would understand that.
***
“I’ve been running the numbers, and our clock magetool isn’t rated for frequencies this high,” Brother Paolo said. He tugged idly at his cassock’s sleeve, frowning down the little circuits arrayed on the table in front of him. “We’ll have to cut the limiter out so it can properly oscillate.”
Lugging a big, rectangular display and dropping it on the table nearby, Cliff turned a frown on his advisor. “So what’s the problem? That’s just a few snips and a fastener right?” He flipped the big display over, prying off the back plate with a screwdriver and studying the circuitry within. For their demonstration, they were planning on having a display that showed the current magic pressure – if things went well, that number would go down as the demonstration went on. Problem was, all the pressure sensors they had on hand were palm-sized, not the kind of thing suited for a demonstration to the Hierophant. Paolo had an oversized magetool wall thermometer, though, and if Cliff spliced its display in with a handheld magic pressure sensor, he could make a large display in a few minutes.
Paolo flashed a glare at him. “The problem, Cliff, is that there is a reason these ratings exist – if we send too much magic through it, the clock will be liable to break or lose it’s accuracy – neither of which are ideal circumstances.” He rubbed at his temples with his thumbs. “And this, as far as I know, is the highest frequency circuit they make. I’m not even sure any filaments exist that could go faster than this.”
“Well then, not many options, right?” Cliff said. Paolo glared at him again, and Cliff shrugged. “As much as we could bellyache about the lack of perfect resources, this is research, right?” His eyes traced the filaments in the display from the prime stone through the temperature circuit into the actual output – he’d need to swap the input out, but keep the display powered. It would be pretty easy, though the setup might be a bit precarious. “Besides, this is just a stopgap, right? As long as the stability lasts for a few minutes, it should be fine. And even if it does fail – it’s not like the depressurizer will be damaged, right? At worst, it doesn’t work.” With a much more delicate hand, he grabbed the magic pressure sensor from his pocket, popping out a few screws so he could get an eye on its internals, too. “We can figure out the rest when we have a bit more time.”
Groaning his frustration, Paolo rapped his knuckles against the table. “Fine, I’ll cut out the limiter. I guess we have no choice. Before we test it I want you to take a look at, see if your Gift doesn’t give a better option.” Cliff made a noncommittal noise as he snipped off the pressure sensor’s display. No matter how many times he turned the depressurizer around in his brain, something always felt off. He thought understanding the underlying theory behind its function might knock things back into place, but it only served to double up the feeling.
There was the sound of frantic footsteps from the doorway, and immediately both of them tensed. Cliff’s head spun on his neck, jaw clenching. He expected to see the same enigmatic magepriest, that Sentinal with glasses. A relieved breath forced its way through his lips when, instead, he spotted a flustered looking Iona, hands crossed in front of her and frown on her face. “You two are still here working?”
Cliff waved a hand in response. “Iona,” he called, “I’m glad you’re here – I need a hand hanging up this display on that frame, there.” He pointed a finger across the workshop, past the depressurizer towards a few bars of steel he’d bolted together as a mount for his makeshift magic pressure display.
“You need a – I didn’t come here to help!” She took a few stomping steps forward, jutting a finger towards them as they continued to work. “Cliff – you’ve made almost no progress on your mage hand, do you intend to show it at the engineering club’s demonstration? And Paolo It’s been weeks since you’ve shown your face at the club’s workshop. I wanted you to approve everything for demonstration, but you’ve just about locked yourself in here!”
Cliff and Paolo shared a look. “We’ll get to it, Iona,” Paolo said, going back to his hunched-over work on the clock circuit. As an afterthought, he added, “and that’s Brother Paolo.”
“My mage hand was just a way to kill time,” Cliff said, walking across the workshop to a set of drawers holding commonly used supplies. He scooped up a spool of neutral filament – he needed to extend a few of the wires running through the sensor to attach them to the display – plus a handful of fasteners, and made his way back to his little workstation. “This is a bit more important, I’d reckon.”
“As you keep saying – though you refuse to tell my why it suddenly became top priority.” She’d pressed Cliff and his advisor more once for details, but – well, secrets and all that. Iona continued to glare at them for a long moment before her curiosity won out. “What are you even working on, Cliff?” She studied the depressurizer, looking between its skeletal frame and his quick work on the display. “Are you going to attach the big thermometer to that hulking magetool?”
Tightening fasteners as he spoke, Cliff shook his head. “The depressurizer won’t have any obvious, outward effects, so I’m throwing together something to show what it’s actually doing.” He pointed with a screwdriver. “Feeding the output of the magic pressure sensor into this here display.” He glanced up at her. “Can you grab me the roll of tape over there? I’m just gonna smack this thing on one of the legs of the mount I made.”
Eyes narrowing slightly, Iona breathed a sigh, walking quickly to bring him the tape. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever stop being surprised that you have the confidence to just take something apart, slice it up, and put something new together – I’d be poring over schematics to make sure I don’t cut something essential.” She slapped the tape onto the table next to him, leaning in to get a better look at his work. “Your stupid Gift, right?”
Cliff gave the final connection a little tug, nodding to himself when it seemed sturdy enough. He glared at Iona. “My gift is not stupid.” Except when it came to the depressurizer, apparently. He shook his head with a sigh, carefully bundling the display and the sensor into his hands. “Here, grab that wrench – and those two bolts.” She followed behind him to the mount and he shifted his cobbled-together magetool until the mounting holes on the back lined up with the holes he’d drilled into the metal.
Without needing to be told, Iona slipped the first bolt in and started tightening it into place. “When’s your presentation, anyway? I’d like to come if I’ve.”
“Two days,” Cliff said, “late afternoon. And – hey Paolo, is the presentation going to be open to the public?”
“Should be,” Paolo called back, “though I’m not sure who – besides Iona maybe – would actually come out to something like this – besides who we expect, of coruse.” Cliff nodded as Iona slid in the second bolt – that was good, he could probably invite Jenna and her parents to come, then. Maybe she’d forgive him for skipping out on the first meeting if she saw he was showing something to the Hierophant. Maybe he just wanted to show off to the girl he liked.
After finishing with the second bolt, Iona handed Cliff the tape. “Hmm – two days. So, you’re just going to spend all your time not in class here tomorrow?”
Cliff’s eyebrows went up. “Classes! I forgot about classes.” He growled to himself as he carefully taped the handheld sensor – or what was left of it – to one of the mount’s legs, careful not to obstruct any of its functions. “After exams and everything – well I was hardly worrying about anything besides actually working here.” He hummed thoughtfully to himself, standing up to scratch at his stubble. “Maybe I can skip classes tomorrow?” He eyed the newly-mounted pressure sensor – the big dial still had temperature markings, but a little paint would fix that up easily enough.
“Absolutely not,” Paolo called as he moved over to the depressurizer, limiter-removed clock circuit in his hand.
“But we still have to deal with the radius of the pulse circle – plus, I’d like to do a few tests before the big one, you know?” Cliff flipped on the pressure sensor, and the thermometer’s dial spun about halfway up the display – how far it went up was actually meaningless, but it would serve as a baseline. Hopefully, as the test went on, that number would drift towards 0 degrees. Satisfied with his work, Cliff nodded and flipped the sensor off again.
“I have absolutely no idea what you two are talking about,” Iona said.
“If I had the time, I’d explain it to you,” Cliff said, moving towards where Paolo was working – to put in the clock circuit, he’d have to do a bit of surgery on the big magetool, and that would be easier with four hands than two, “unfortunately, that seems to be the big thing I’m short on, now.”