Dellen spent the next three days learning about the house accounts from Stefan, and training for an hour or two in the afternoons with Miranda. If anything, Stefan had understated the severity of House Northcote’s problems.
House Northcote had many illiquid assets, including their estate home and an almost inexplicable quantity of raw materials in warehouses, mostly copper and iron ingots, but precious little free capital to fund new projects and just enough talent to oversee existing operations.
He sat at his father’s desk and stared at the pages of a ledger.
“Are you learning anything?” Gilgamesh said.
“Yes, of course.” Dellen said without thinking, then, “Why do you ask?”
“You’ve been staring at the same few pages for the last fifteen or so minutes, and you keep starting over.”
Dellen sighed and closed the book, pushing the ledgers aside. He knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on them again this morning.
He rose from his desk. “Let’s go.”
Dellen made his way through the halls of the Northcote estate, past portraits of his ancestors and once opulent furnishings that spoke of his family’s past wealth and influence. He exited the estate and saw that it was later than he’d realised, the sun closer to midday. As he remembered, the city had come under siege in the early afternoon.
On the roof, a pre-arranged carriage waited for him. The driver, a stout man with a friendly smile, held a door open. Dellen had chosen this carriage carefully. Many carriages had a separation between the driver and the passengers; this carriage did not, and the passenger seating was open to the air. Dellen wanted to see everything.
The hired airship glided into the sky, the hum of its Steam Aether powered engine a constant companion. Dellen surveyed the landscape below, trying to commit the layout to memory compared to his map room back at the estate.
His pilot expertly navigated the busy airspace, maneuvering around other airships and the occasional pedestrian crossing between buildings on aerial walkways.
“Go higher.” Dellen said, “I spend all my time on the ground; I rarely see the city like this. Give me an aerial tour if you would.”
“As you wish.” His driver said.
They circled the city center for half an hour; Dellen paid particular attention to where his estate was relative to everything else.
Suddenly, a series of thunderous explosions erupted.
Cogs shuddered and groaned. The elegant clockwork of the city stuttered from east to west. Seraphim’s Spindle, a cog known for its intricate patterns and elegant designs, tipped precariously, its once steady rotation faltering.
The Industrious Ironworks Enclave, a cog he’d intended to visit once he was ready to practice working a forge, started to lean dangerously, its massive gears grinding against each other in a symphony of screeching metal. Screams of panic, a fear audible from above.
A wave of green tipped onto its side and fell. The Verdant Gardens vanished into the chasm.
To the east, the Skydock Market sat at a precarious angle. The roof of the building opened on one side, a swarm of ships escaping into the air.
Dellen was so intensely focused on the devastation below that he failed to remember the imminent danger around him. Eyes fixed on the collapsing cogs and plumes of smoke rising from the city, trying to comprehend the scale of the catastrophe.
A deafening explosion tore through the air above and to the left of them. The force of the blast sent shockwaves through the airship, rattling its frame and causing it to shudder. Dellen, caught off guard by the unexpected detonation, was rocked in his seat, kept aboard by his grip on the carriage.
The skies had turned into a deadly debris field, airships exploding around them. Some of the blasts were close enough that Dellen felt the heat on his face.
“You were on the ground for this?” Gilgamesh said.
“Hanging from the side of a cog, trying not to fall,” Dellen said. “I bled a lot and broke a leg.”
Bright flashes of light momentarily blinded him. Panicked shouts rose in intensity and frequency. Many cogs were still level or mostly so, but none continued their movements uninterrupted.
Debris from the exploding airships rained down on the city, unleashing a new wave of destruction. Burning metal fragments and wood, some as large as small carriages, plummeted toward the ground, leaving trails of smoke and fire in their wake.
Upon impact, these fiery projectiles ignited anything flammable in their path, spreading fires across the already damaged city. The once-bustling streets and plazas were now littered with the wreckage of fallen airships, while the firestorms they spawned tore through buildings, parks, and infrastructure.
Buildings on the brink of collapse were struck by falling debris, causing some to crumble and crash to the ground or begin an avalanche, sweeping across precariously tilted cogs, throwing crowds to the abyss.
The cascade of destruction was relentless, each new wave of falling debris spreading fires, causing further chaos and devastation below. In mere minutes, the elegant skyline of Copperopolis had devolved into a hellscape of smoke, fire, and destruction.
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His carriage driver turned to him, a mixture of fear and disbelief in his eyes. “I’ve never seen anything like this, sir.” He shouted over the roar of the flames and the screeching of metal. “The city, it’s falling apart before our eyes.”
Dellen clenched his fists, feeling the weight of the situation set in. “We can’t just stay here and do nothing,” he said. “There must be people down there who need our help. We have to try to save them!”
The driver hesitated momentarily, his eyes darting between the chaos below and Dellen’s resolute expression. Then came a nod of agreement, “Yes, we do.”
He steered the airship at the sharpest incline down Dellen had experienced on a carriage.
“Alright, sir, we’ll do our best. Just tell me where to go, and I’ll get us as close as I can.”
“What’s the useful load on your carriage, and do you have any rope?” Dellen said.
“About eight hundred pounds, sir, and yes, hidden behind your seat, I have a few lengths of rope.”
Dellen hastily pulled the rope out from behind his seat, untying it in preparation for what would come next. “Get to those cogs closest to vertical; if anyone is left alive on those, we’ll try and save them.”
“Yes, sir, though I don’t think we can manage more than two, maybe three, at a time, and only if they hang on.”
Dellen looked at the empty seat next to him, where Gilgamesh hovered.
They brought the airship closer to a devastated cog. At close range, the full extent of the destruction came into focus. Thick, acrid smoke billowed from the remains of collapsed buildings, choking the air and casting a dark pall over the neighbourhood. Enormous swaths of rubble, the remnants of homes and businesses, were scattered over the vertical surface, held up by the sides of buildings.
In some areas, buildings had been so destroyed that only their foundations remained, leaving behind eerie, empty spaces. Twisted metal and glass were embedded in walls, and the ground itself, a testament to the violence of the failing debris.
Despite the horror before them, Dellen and his driver stayed focused on their self-imposed mission, navigating through the smoke, searching for survivors.
“There!” Dellen shouted with an outstretched hand. He’d spotted a small group of people clinging to a balcony on the nearly vertical cog. The terrified survivors waved their arms frantically.
“Take us in close, but be careful,” Dellen instructed the driver, who nodded and approached. Dellen readied his rope, preparing to throw it toward the stranded people.
With a deep breath, he hurled the rope in their direction. It fell just short of the balcony, but one of the survivors managed to grab it on the second attempt.
Dellen and the driver watched with bated breath as the group secured the rope around the first survivor.
Wrapping aetherforged fingers around the line, Dellen tied the rope around a secure anchor point on the carriage and pulled the first survivor up, hand over hand.
Dellen threw the rope back to the remaining survivors, “We can only take two more.” He yelled.
The survivors, a young woman, and an older man, exchanged a brief, determined glance before the woman grabbed the rope first. Rope rough in his hands, Dellen pulled her up quickly. As she reached the carriage, she clung to the edge, freeing the rope for the older man and babbling thanks to Dellen and the driver both.
The older man hesitated momentarily, scanning the area, but Dellen could see him realise there was no time for second-guessing. He tied the line around his waist before grasping the rope tightly, and Dellen yelled, “Pull up, let’s get them to safety.”
The old man swung at a thirty-degree angle as the driver accelerated away, looking for a safer, more stable location to land and disembark the passengers.
“We’re almost there,” Dellen yelled down.
Finally, they arrived at a cog that was closer to level, its structures mostly intact. The driver brought them close to the surface, allowing the older man to touch down on the ground. Dellen released the line so they wouldn’t accidentally drag him along.
Moments later, they landed.
Dellen looked at the survivors huddled inside the carriage, a mix of fear and uncertainty in their eyes. He knew they were reluctant to leave the relative safety of the airship, but there were more people out there, people in situations as bad or worse than he and Toby had faced.
With a gentle but assertive tone, Dellen addressed the survivors. “I know you’re scared, but we need to make room for others we can save. This cog is stable; I think you’ll be safe here for now.” He hesitated. “If House Northcote still stands, and you can find your way there on Aurum Heights, tell them that Dellen Northcote sent you; ask for Stefan, my steward.
The survivors exchanged hesitant glances, but, one by one, they climbed out of the carriage and onto the cog, each offering a word of gratitude.
With the carriage now empty, Dellen spoke to the driver. “Dellen Northcote.”
“Edmund Halfstride, my lord. If you get that rope, we might be able to save a few more people.”
“Thank you, Edmund,” Dellen replied, nodding in appreciation. He ran to the older man, collected the rope, shook his hand, and dashed back to the carriage.
Edmund piloted them towards another teetering cog, a small one this time. Dellen spotted another small group of people clinging to a section of broken gearwork. They waved frantically, their faces streaked with soot and tears.
“Over there, Edmund!” Dellen called out, pointing towards the struggling survivors. Edmund steered the carriage closer, hovering carefully to avoid the falling debris.
Dellen threw a rope to the first person in the group, a young woman who caught it with trembling hands. He instructed her to secure it around her waist. Once she was ready, he and Edmund worked together to pull her to safety. Dellen felt the strain in his arms and shoulders. Each rescue took a little more effort than the last, muscles aching from the effort.
Once she was aboard, Dellen took a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his strength. He wiped the sweat from his brow, determined despite his exhaustion.
He prepared to throw the rope to the next person in line and felt his arms trembling slightly, his biceps spasming. Gritting his teeth, he pushed ahead, knowing these people were counting on him. He repeated the process with each survivor, his body screaming for rest.
Edmund noticed Dellen’s growing exhaustion. “You’re doing wonderfully, my lord. We’re making a difference.”
Dellen nodded, grateful for the support. He knew the time loop would end soon, but it felt wrong not to try to save as many people as possible.
“You’re not making a difference at all,” Gilgamesh said. “These people will all be alive again as soon as the loop restarts.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Dellen said aloud.
“I’m not.” Both Edmund and Gilgamesh said.
The carriage continued its flight through the devastated city. Dellen and Edmund scanned the wreckage for any signs of life. The smoke and debris made it difficult to see clearly, and Dellen had yelled himself hoarse hours earlier, but they persevered, unwilling to give up on those who might still be clinging to hope.
The adrenaline coursing through Dellen’s veins helped to dull the pain in his muscles, but the fatigue was still there, lurking just beneath the surface. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, knowing that to give in to exhaustion would mean abandoning people in need.
Hours blurred together in a haze as Dellen and Edmund continued their desperate rescue efforts. Time lost all meaning as they worked tirelessly, the sun’s position in the sky their only indication of its passage.
Finally, shadows lengthened, and the light began to fade; Edmund turned to Dellen, his face etched with exhaustion. “My lord, I think we’ve done all we can. There’s no one left to save.”
Dellen refused to accept this. With a voice hoarse from shouting, he said, “We have to go under the cogs. There could be people hanging on beneath the city itself.”