“You have fifteen minutes in the mess hall, then report to your stations,” Gunthar shouted before turning and walking out the door.

At the mention of food the always present hunger lurking in the back of my mind rose to full force making my stomach growl. Squeezing through the crowd with my skinny frame I made it out the door almost before everyone else. Stepping out onto the mental catwalk I looked out across the massive open space that constituted the Iron Hold.

The labor camp existed with a massive shaft drilled straight down into the earth, an echo of history involving forces far beyond my comprehension. While the sheer scale was a marvel in itself, the true glory was in the bright glowing blue tendrils that tunneled through the rough basalt walls that bathed everything in their light, Aether veins.

They formed in places rich with magic, running through the earth and slowly leaching into various metals, gems, and stones turning them from ordinary minerals into items worth a fortune. But Iron Hold was different from the natural aether springs that formed across the Realm. It had been made, magic had bore into the earth with such potency that it left enough residue to burn its mark into the stone for centuries.

Lost in my thought I almost didn’t notice when the catwalk turned from flat metal into a winding staircase to the market, a misleading name for what the space was. While stalls and impermanent structures were squeezed together shoulder to shoulder where people could sell what they harvested in the mines for food equipment or almost anything else imaginable.

“Ramos,” turning my head at the sound of my name as I stepped off the stairway I saw the boss standing nearby with his arms crossed, “Let’s go visit the new foremaster.”

Nodding my head once I fell into step behind Gunthar as he turned and walked down one of the countless narrow alleys leading through the market. Even though the work bell only rang a few minutes ago, already the market was a buzz of activity with people moving back and forth.

Normally I would have to duck and weave my way through the foot traffic but with the Boss leading It was like swimming in the wake of a massive galleon as I watched the sea of people part to avoid his broad shoulders.

After a short walk we came out into one of the few open spaces in the market around the only building made out of brick and mortar. The general store looked more like a block fortress with no features besides the grated windows at the front where lines had already formed. There wasn’t even a door to enter or leave the store making it seem like the build was a block of stone.

Without sparing the people a second look Gunther moved to the front of the line to which not a single person protested at least verbally. I could almost feel their hate fill gazes across our backs however, but I didn’t mind at least for once it was because of my actions.

Walking up to one of the iron windows Gunther raised his massive hand and rapped against the metal with the back of his knuckles. A second later a portion of the window slid to the side revealing a pair of scarlet red eyes sunk into a gaunt face with gray skin. Staring at the Ghoul’s face it was difficult to think that once, probably only a few months ago, the creature in front of me had been a man.

“Eh, what do you want human?” A familiar raspy dry voice echoed through the heavy metal plating that made my skin crawl.

Stepping forward Gunther leaned down so he was at eye level with the creature behind the kiosk, “I’m here because you refused to service one of my men?”

I watched as the scarlet red eyes slid from Gunther’s massive frame down onto me, “Oh the Elysian, I remember you. I thought all of your people were killed by the Champions?”

Gunther moved to the side partially blocking the unnatural piercing gaze, “Keep wagging your tongue and someone is bound to cut it off.”

The red eyes narrowed but for what reason I couldn’t tell, “Is that a threat big guy?”

“I wonder how much a man must hate themself to trade their humanity and freedom for eternity all for a sliver of power.'' Gunther's question seemed to strike a deep chord within the Ghoul as its scarlet eyes as they narrowed

A hiss echoed from the window as the fae’s scarlet eyes began to glow faintly, “Even if I’m not a true blood I still claw your throat out and feast on your heart!”

Gunther shifted and from his body posture alone I could tell the man was smiling, “I encourage you to try, It has been too long since I’ve tasted Fae blood.”

For a long moment the Ghoul fell silent as it stared at Gunther with open hostility. Then after a tense minute its glowing red eyes dimmed, “Fine, you win this one human, now take your junk and leave.”

The previously hidden inscription carved into the stone beneath the kiosk glowed as aether flowed through the magical circuit and a massive drill head appeared with a flash of light.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Reaching down, Gunther grabbed the drill bit in one hand before turning and passing it to me. Holding the hand drill with both arms pressing it against my chest I checked for any defects and nodded at Gunther when I found none.

“We’re done here,” Gunther grunted as he turned from the kiosk.

Quickly following in his footsteps I waited a second before I glanced over my shoulder. There from the slit in the window the scarlet eyes bore into my back that narrowed when we made eye contact.

A grin spread across my face as I stared at the hate filled eyes that peered through the gap in the window, stuck and helpless, unable to inflict the pain and agony it so desperately needed to tolerate its own existence. Turning back around I followed after Gunther my step lighter despite the drill head in my arms.

I jogged to catch up with Gunther who looked down at me as I pulled alongside him, “Are you alright Ramos?”

“You know I have thick skin, boss,” I grunted out as I adjusted my grip on the drill head.

“Enough rain can reduce a mountain to pebbles,” Gunther responded sagely, his eyes not moving from me, “But I won’t patronize you any further. Now let’s get back to work.”

I looked away as a small smile crossed my lips. A few minutes later the crowded market atmosphere faded as we entered our sector of the floor. The stalls gave way to a crude stone wall made up of different boulders slapped together and held in place by a mix of cement and metal slag. At the main entrance a solid gate of thick wooden lumbars jostled on its hinges before swinging open as we approached.

“Jorgen, Borgen, how did the night shift go?” Gunther asked as two identical burly men almost the same size as the boss stepped into view from behind the wall.

“Peaceful as normal.” The man on the right replied nonchalantly to which the other snorted, “It's been almost a month since anyone has tried to break in. Things are starting to get boring.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being bored,” Gunther responded as he strode by making his way into the camp and I followed after him nodding at the twins as I passed.

The moment I passed through the gate a sense of security washed over me as I quickly made my way through the various tents arranged in neat orderly rows making the most use of the space we claimed. But shoved into the back corner of the camp as if an afterthought lie the true gem.

A grin spread across my face and my eyes landed on my workshop, a sprawling mess of scavenged resources, several work benches, and even a small khin all covered by a ratty tarp to shield me from the sun when it rose overhead heating Iron Hold to an almost unbearable degree.

But no one new to my workshop would notice any of the miscellaneous items due to the giant industrial drill propped up on a wooden frame. It had the rough shape of a battering ram with handles along its length for a team of men to heft it up on their shoulders. But instead of a heavy stone tied to the front a series of drill heads were bolted onto a metal plate connected to the main body which consisted of a cold forged steel I had hammered into shape to form a long rectangular box. Inside were the disassembled remains of the ten hand drills that made up the larger machine each wired together to work as a whole. And attached to the sides of the body stood four long wooden poles for the team of eight needed to lift the drill off the ground.

It might have seemed impressive at first glance but I had to actively fight the urge to not tear it apart one bolt at a time. Every imperfection and short cut I had taken due to lack of proper materials stood out like a beacon in the back of my mind.

‘If I was back at the Institut…’ I squeezed my eyes shut and forced away the images that thought conjured. Focusing on my task I walked the last few feet to my workshop and I sighed when I finally dropped the hand drill on a workbench letting my tired arms rest.

Wiping my forehead with the back of my hand I wicked away the sweat before reaching into my tool belt and pulled out a flat head screwdriver.

Turning the hand drill on its side I angled the flathead just below the edge of the side panel. After applying a bit of pressure the metal sheet popped off with a clang revealing the single component that made the drill run.

A small finger length piece of magicite the crystalized form of aether sat atop of an inscription plate. However the center of the inscribed metal was rotated ninety degrees from the outer perimeter turning the beautiful piece of work into a useless piece of scrap. Fortunately it was by design and the inscription would line up when the trigger was pulled completing the inscription.

Reaching inside the drill I first removed the magicite crystal, without a source of aether the drill was essentially a piece of junk metal. I then went about disassembling the drill taking it apart piece by piece, even if I only needed the inscription magicite and drill head, having a surplus of scrap metal always came in handy.

Gathering the pieces in my arms I walked over to the main drill and kicked the side of the machine and a hatch popped open revealing a tangled mess of wires.

Shoving my torso into the opening I reached around blindly until I grabbed the wire I was looking for. Taking the inscription plate I wrapped the copper wire around the metal square. It was a crude solution but the only one available without the proper tools. Most metals had the ability to conduct aether, but only the mythical ores like celestial bronze, malachite or mithril had a true affinity with magical energy.

After slotting the wired inscription plate within the machine I connected it to the trigger mechanism before removing the old drill head and replacing it with the new one.

Ducking my head as I backed out of the drill I closed the panel before walking to the back of the machine where a small porthole was cut out of the metal between two wooden handles with triggers slotted underneath. Taking the sliver of magicite I dropped it in the hole then after muttering a quick prayer I pressed down on both of the triggers.

A high pitched whine filled the air and the machine started to vibrate as the drill heads slowly wound up spinning faster and faster until they were almost a blurr. Running the machine for a minute straight I checked for any errors as the wires and plates had a tendency to jostle loose if the drill ran for too long. But when no malfunctions happened I stepped away from the machine with a wide grin, “Another successful repair.”

Grabbing a rag I wiped the grease and soot off my hands as I left to tell the boss the good news.