Marlowe's bag digs into his shoulders, heavy with paper and gold. He knocks on the door.

“Come in,” the voice in the room says.

The door creaks as Marlowe pushes it open and says, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Holcomb.”

“Oh, call me Gregory, please,” he gestures to the chair in front of his desk behind which he sits. “So, what is it you wanted to discuss?”

“Your invention, have you heard the rumors?” Marlowe asks.

“Rumors?”

Step one: get the opposition to favor you.

“Yes, well, I’m sure you are aware of your reputation, correct? I don’t share the opinion, but sometimes people call you a bit… out there. Personally, I believe you think out of the box, you are not constrained by conventional methods. I admire that.”

Gregory nods.

“So, there’s talk of your invention being fake. That it was a setup to make it seem like you achieved your goal for fame. The small explosion of fire would’ve come from a substance you put on the wall or something like that.”

Gregory squints, flicks his hand at the door and scoffs, “Let them think what they want, I know the truth.”

“And I believe you,” Marlowe quickly adds. “With that in mind, I want to make a proposition.”

Step two: strike when the opposition is weak.

He grabs his bag from the floor, takes out the paperwork, and puts it on the table in front of Gregory.

The pack of paper reads: Agreement of sponsorship between Gregory Holcomb and House Strathmere, represented by Marlowe Strathmere.

“I talked with my father and convinced him to let me sponsor your project. The contract has gone through the High Court already. In short: House Strathmere will fund your research in return for full access to all blueprints and data.”

Of course, the legalities are technically true. Has Lord Strathmere given his blessing? No. Will he ever find out? No. As long as the professor gets paid, he should happily continue working and not question it, Marlowe reckons, and the contract abides by all laws. He made sure of that, as per his education. Besides, his father is too busy to even care about his son’s affairs, unless it directly impacts him negatively.

Gregory thinks for a minute and says, “And I will get full credit for my work?”

Step three: finish when the opposition ceases resisting.

“Of course,” Marlowe replies, “and as a token of goodwill we would like to pay some of the costs up front.”

Marlowe takes the clattering coin pouch out of his bag and with a heavy thump it comes to rest on the table.

For just a moment, Gregory’s eyes widen and a withheld smirk appears on his face.

He coughs and recomposes himself, “I’d be glad to have the support of House Strathmore in this project.”

“Excellent,” Marlowe replies happily, “If, within the next few days, you could sign here… here… and here, we’re settled. I’ll come pick it up in the next few days.”

Surely Patrick will wonder what such a package of paper is if it would arrive unprompted at the mansion and go straight to mother. No, it is much safer to handle everything discreetly on his own.

“I expect a copy of your papers with the contract,” Marlowe adds, “So we uphold both sides of our agreement, I’m sure you understand.”

“Very well,” Gregory agrees, “I’ll have it done by the end of the week. Now, if you don’t mind, I have equipment to commission.”

Marlowe gets up from his chair, nods and takes his leave.

The first phase of his plan is now complete. He is sure that the mad professor’s invention is the real deal and he will leverage the invention before anyone else can. Take hold of it and use it for good - for the people in need.

Some days later he receives the signed contract, blueprints and research. The second phase will now begin: construction of the machine.

Marlowe has secured a storage building in advance in Allutum where his family rarely comes. Raised above the underbelly of Alomore, this is where people with a useful trade come to work. Carpenters, blacksmiths, farmers with wares to sell, and so forth. Strict rules apply and trespassers face time in jail or worse. A warehouse rented by an Elysian is like a tree in a forest.

First and foremost, the metal parts must be procured from a blacksmith, or multiple in this case. Though commissions are under strict secrecy, giving full blueprints to one singular blacksmith would be dangerous for the risk of recreation and his father getting wind of his little project. Thobeck’s Anvil will create the fine pieces as they are the best blacksmith in town. They’ve got a reputation for delicate pieces with extreme precision. The Bartholom Brothers and Yshearth will both take an even split for the remaining parts, selected for not having done many contracts with the Strathmere family before. A tradesman from the crafter’s guild should be able to complete the build. The glasswork will be procured from any odd glassblower, these products won’t give anything away. It took several days, and a lot of gold, to split the designs and have them commissioned, but it’s a necessity.

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While waiting for the components to be manufactured, Marlowe turned to the research papers. For starters, he wants to make the same pallabrite as Gregory Holcomb demonstrated; the fire pallabrite. Combing through all of Holcomb’s writing is like finding your way through a maze. At times it was impossible to understand what he meant, scrambled notes and thoughts throughout, with little concrete solutions and deductions. However, those bits of concrete info was enough. Marlowe compiled them into his own notes and a rationale started forming. The formulae inserted into the machine follow a pattern, where the pattern determines what the aether flowing through it absorbs, or how it flows into the next stage.

A couple weeks later everything was delivered to the warehouse. Craftsmen came to put the major parts of the machine together, and Marlowe assembled these parts with the help of pulleys and elbow grease into the final product. He inserted the formulae scrolls he wrote based on educated guesses, and finally the blank pallabrite should turn into the fire pallabrite.

Marlowe notices his hands shake slightly, and a cold shiver runs down his spine. Did Holcomb feel this way as well when he first completed this project? Or did he have more confidence in his creation? One thing is certain: without risk there is no reward.

Marlowe turns the machine on and places his hands in the cuffs. Once again, he imagines shooting fire from his fingertips. It’s merely a way to allow aether to flow from your body, as humans are not innately able to expel it, but it’s effective nonetheless. The machine whirs and crackles as Marlowe feels a little weak as he did last time. A good sign.

Electricity flows into the glass bowl as the pallabrite turns red. The pallabrite should be complete and the machine’s whizzing slowly comes to an end, as Marlowe takes his hands out the cuffs. His knees give out from under him and he catches himself from falling. Perhaps he missed an optimization, he thinks to himself.

He takes a few minutes to recollect himself, then grabs the pallabrite out of the sphere.

“Here goes nothing,” he whispers to himself, as he throws the red stone at an empty wall.

The pallabrite flies through the air and hits the wall. Marlowe hears a loud and sharp crack, then flames engulf the area of impact, and he shields his eyes from the heat. The flame was not this large with Holcomb’s experiment, nor was it so violent. Has he miscalculated, or made an improvement? Perhaps he had a better feel for allowing aether to flow freely? More experimentation is needed to ascertain the truth, but this result is promising, and terrifying in equal measure, to say the least.

For now, it has been a long day and exhaustion is taking hold of Marlowe. To be safe, he extracts the formulae and packs his notes. Finally, he pulls a large sheet over the machine and ties it down with rope, before locking the warehouse up.

Later that night he ponders his actions and the course he's set himself on. Should he continue? With his experiment today, the result was more volatile than the first time, how far can it be pushed? After all, those with money will seize the technology, benefiting only themselves and their own, greedy goals. No, that is the last thing he wants.

A third party is what he needs. A trustworthy group to use this technology by the people, for the people. But does such a group exist? And if it does, how will he get in contact? Surely they won't be advertising themselves on the streets.

What if he advertises himself, making interested individuals and groups come to him instead? Yes, he just needs to avoid suspicion of being a mole of the government.

“Shit,” he whispers under his breath and sighs deeply.

Writing up a somewhat fake contract and spending that amount of money is one thing. Contacting and potentially collaborating with people who would have him and his family dead on the street is another. Yet his resolve strengthens. The very fact that these people are forced into a position that makes them think that way is wrong.

The wheel must be broken.

He finishes writing his notes and packs his learning material. At this point, it would be more useful if he was taught humanities rather than how to court rich folk from other nations, but he has duties to fulfill for now.

Marlowe arrives at Strathmere University the following day and goes to the lecture hall where his next lesson will be given on foreign relations.

As he enters the hall, a voice calls out to him: “Marlowe, over here!”

Benjamin is stood up from his seat and gestures to Marlowe. He looks at Benjamin and nods his head in acknowledgement as he makes his way to the seat next to Benjamin.

“Hey Benji,” Marlowe says, “Managed to get everything done last night?”

“Nah, I’m not like you,” Benjamin replies, “I had it done a couple days ago.”

Marlowe unpacks his work and says, “Yeah, yeah, as if it matters when this stuff is done.”

“So when are you joining us for some football again?” Benjamin asks, “You’ve not been in a few weeks. Busy with the family side of things?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Marlowe says, “I’ll be there next time.”

It won’t be too suspicious if he’s not participating for a while as a member of the prestigious Strathmere family, but family matters usually don’t take a couple months to complete. The last thing he needs is questions.

The hall door opens again and the lecturer steps into the room.

“Morning, Mrs Hayward,” resound the students.

Benjamin leans over to Marlowe’s ear and whispers, “Always smells like fresh bread when Mrs Hayward arrives, doesn’t it? Wonder if she bakes her own bread.”

“Doubt it,” Marlowe whispers back, “She must have someone do it for her, right?”

“Mm. You’re probably ri-”

“AHEM,” Mrs Hayward says sternly, looking directly at Marlowe and Benjamin, who immediately sit straight and look forward.

She looks around the lecture hall and says, “I don’t mind being more lenient, but respect is something you earn,” she snaps her eyes to Marlowe, “Mr Strathmere.”

“Now, today we’ll be talking about gaining leverage with the tree-dwelling Elves,” Mrs Hayward says.

Marlowe sighs and wonders why she teaches at the university half her time when Mrs Hayward runs an orphanage the other half. The former perpetuates the latter, so what’s the logic?

It’s no wonder other professors have a nickname referring to her contradicting secondary job: “Cefre Wayward”.