Dellen and Tristan stood side by side in the workshop, surrounded by the tools and materials Tristan had prepared. Unrolled on a large wooden table, the blueprint detailed the various components and their arrangement in the finished assembly.
Tristan turned to Dellen, “The first thing we need to do is shape the main support structures from these ingots.” He gestured to a pile of ingots, grimacing a little. “They’re an alloy of iron. Not ideal, but if you want more expensive materials, you have to pay for them, so my options are limited.”
“I’m guessing he doesn’t know what House Northcote does,” Gilgamesh said. “You could offer to bring him better alloys, you know. I’m sure you have some available.”
“Besides,” Tristan continued, “It’s better to make the first version of any new frame with baser materials so that the nearly inevitable mistakes aren’t as costly. The important thing is to keep the imbued iron undamaged. We harvest it from broken machines but have lost the making of it.”
Dellen nodded, watching as Tristan took one of the ingots and placed it into the heart of the blazing forge. A feeling of familiarity rushed through Dellen; he felt like he’d seen and participated in this act many times before. For the briefest of moments, it felt like coming home.
The fire roared, its flames licking at the metal, which began to glow a bright orange.
“Can you man the bellows?” Tristan asked.
Dellen hurried to the bellows.
Tristan began to instruct him, then stopped and watched him, “Have you worked a forge before?”
“No,” Dellen said, skirting the truth, but he knew that the bellows had to be used to keep the metal at just the right temperature.
Tristan looked at him with scrunched brows and narrowed eyes.
Dellen did not say a word but maintained his focus and watched the metal change. The ingots went from a dull grey to a dim red, climbing to a bright orange and beyond.
“Impressive. I’ve never seen anyone assist at a forge for their first time and not need advice on how to pump the bellows faster or slower to manage the temperature properly.” Tristan pulled the glowing ingot from the forge using a pair of long tongs. He placed it on the anvil. The heat radiating from it warmed Dellen’s face from several feet away.
Tristan worked the metal with a heavy hammer, its ringing strikes echoing throughout the workshop. “When shaping metal, it’s important to work carefully but efficiently,” he explained between the blows. “We want to ensure the support structures are strong enough to handle the forces they’ll experience during flight.”
Dellen watched Tristan’s movements closely; every movement felt familiar; he could predict what Tristan would do just a second before Tristan’s every swing, a moment before every action. He could see the metal slowly changing shape, gradually transforming from a rough ingot into a more refined and purposeful form.
When the metal cooled, Tristan returned it to the forge, allowing it to regain its malleability before resuming the shaping process.
“May I?” Dellen asked.
“Perhaps it’s better if you just watch for now,” Tristan said with a polite smile, a sheen of sweat on his forehead.
The main support structures were designed to be sturdy and balanced, crucial for ensuring stable flight. The support structures consisted of bars that would run up and down Tristan’s arms and legs. These bars would provide a solid framework to support the steam ejectors. The bars were shaped to follow the natural contours of Tristan’s limbs, ensuring a comfortable and secure fit.
Each bar featured carefully shaped attachment points designed to connect securely to the steam ejectors. The steam ejectors would be mounted at Tristan’s shoulders, hips, and knees to maximize their thrust and maneuverability. The mounting points were designed to be adjustable, allowing the steam ejectors to be fine-tuned for optimal performance.
Hours passed. Dellen and Tristan completed the simplest step: forging the various support bars and mounting points. Once each piece was formed, they had to attach the bars to the imbued metal, creating conduits for the Aether to flow through. Steam Aether from Tristan flowed through the imbued metal as it was fused with the frame.
Tristan took a moment to wipe his forehead. “I have to be careful to ensure that the imbued metal does not break contact when we mount the hinges, no matter how the pieces shift.”
Dellen understood that. The frame was little more than a support to make sure that Tristan was properly attached to the steam ejectors that would let them fly.
Working side by side, they attached piece of metal after piece of metal to the frame, ensuring that the imbued metal was always fit tightly enough that Aether could flow from piece to piece without blowback. For the welding process, Tristan had to flood the metal with Steam Aether, but for the testing process, he had to push the Aether through the metal to ensure that there was a continuous flow to the ejectors.
“Be alert.” Tristan said, “Even a single misstep can lead to an Aetheric blowback.”
Dellen nodded. He was all but certain he’d been in more than his share of those.
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They completed a section on the left side of the frame. Dellen waited while Tristan pushed his Aether to verify that the connections were all they should be.
“Duck!” Tristan yelled a fraction of a second before he exploded backward, his outflung arm slamming into Dellen’s chest, bowling them both over.
Dellen’s head slammed into the steel floor, and his teeth snapped together. Pain exploded in the back of his skull. It spread throughout his head as a dull ache.
A low groan came from Tristan.
“Still alive?” Gilgamesh asked.
Tristan rolled so that he was no longer on top of Dellen. “Break anything?” He asked.
“No,” Dellen said, releasing a low groan of his own, “But I need a minute.”
They both lay on the floor, occasionally groaning but otherwise not speaking.
Eventually, Dellen sat up and looked Tristan over. Tristan’s front was soaked, and his exposed steelskin had a red hue. “Explosive release of Steam Aether?”
“Yep,” Tristan said with a groan. “Makes me glad that I don’t have a pyro affinity or an electrical affinity like you.”
“Still not great,” Dellen said.
“No.” Tristan agreed, shaking his head, “Slightly less lethal though.”
“There is that. Is the frame salvageable?”
Tristan groaned again but hauled himself to his feet. “Let’s take a look. It was a minor blowback; it should be fine.” He walked over to the frame, and his fingers traced along the support structure. Dellen could tell he was looking for the flaw that caused the blowback. “See here? Just a tiny fraction of an inch too far out of alignment. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to repair. The pathways have already lost all of their Aether.”
They spent nearly an hour re-checking all the untested pathways, looking for any mistakes that could trigger another blowback.
Tristan glanced at Dellen, “Maybe it’ll be just the one.” He spent the next hour infusing the frame with Aether without further mishap.
“Next step,” Tristan said, hand on the finished frame. “Help me put this on.”
With Dellen’s assistance, he slid into the frame. A hint of uncertainty marred his otherwise calm expression. “This is the portion where either we know we did a good job, or… It can go very poorly.”
Dellen had a flashback; he’d been in a lab with other apprentices. One of them had been overconfident. He had fed as much power as he could into a frame he’d made and immolated himself, showering his immediate surroundings with molten metal. He hid a shudder.
“Start slow and dial it up,” Dellen said.
Tristan nodded and channeled a low level of Steam Aether into the frame.
Electrical Aether would have lit the pathways with a white light that jostled around; Pyro Aether would have glowed red, or even blue. Steam Aether made the imbued metal look wet and furious, like water churning around rocks in a river.
“It works,” Tristan said. The frame held him up, but he somehow sagged with relief. He let the Aether drain out of the frame and unstrapped himself.
“What’s next?” Dellen asked, his instincts told him they would be mounting the steam ejectors.
“We need to mount the steam ejectors,” Tristan said.
The steam injectors were complex-looking devices consisting of valves, chambers, and pipes.
“How do these convert Steam Aether into steam?” Dellen asked.
Tristan laughed. “I don’t actually know. I’ve heard it explained more times than I can recall, but I’m not sure anyone fully understands the theory; it just does.” He ran his fingers along an ejector, “This is bigger than the ejectors I use on my other flight frame, but we need more lift for two. We must mount them correctly; if one snaps off mid-flight, it’ll make the fallout from the blowback look like a minor inconvenience.”
“Ever seen anyone fall?” Dellen asked, trying to sound casual.”
Gilgamesh snickered. “Nice effort to sound unconcerned.”
Tristan shrugged. “Of course. There’s always someone too sloppy to be concerned with maintenance. Happens every few decades, once there’s been just enough time for people to forget about the last crash.”
Tristan positioned the first ejector in its mounting bracket and bolted it into place. “If you don’t mind, I’ll do all this myself.” He said. “You’re not familiar with it, and, as I said, if we lose an ejector, it will be catastrophic. Especially down there.” Tristan glanced in the direction of the chasm without appearing to be aware of the action.
Once all the ejectors were in place, Dellen helped Tristan look for weak joins and connections. He ran his fingers over each ejector, testing that it had mobility for mid-flight adjustments but was firmly affixed to its mounting bracket.
They then connected the ejectors to the imbued metal on the frame. With the ejectors connected, they went over the entire frame, looking for breaks and weak points.
“What’s left?” Dellen asked.
Tristan leaned against a table. “Tonight and tomorrow morning, I test the frame and practice flying with a weight. If that goes smoothly, you and I will take some practice flights over the city tomorrow afternoon or evening.” He glanced down again. “If the practice flights go well, then we.” Tristan paused and did not speak for several seconds before taking a deep breath and continuing, “Then we explore under the city.”
Dellen put a hand on his shoulder. “If we stop the city from being attacked, you will save many lives.”
Tristan nodded, visibly steeling himself. “Yes, it’s just that…” He stopped and considered his words. “Don’t you feel it when you’re near the edge or looking down? It feels like there’s something down there, something that looks back up.”
“You know, I think he may be crazy,” Gilgamesh said. “What could be down there, staring up from the darkness?” He was quiet for a moment. “Actually, saying it like that, it does sound a bit disquieting. Why is everyone in this city scared of the chasm but content to live above it?”
“If you feel that way,” Dellen said, “Then why not just leave? There are other cities in the world. Are there other chapters of the Aetheric Cultivators that you could call home?”
Tristan looked at him in confusion. “How would I leave? No one leaves the city. You should know that as well as anyone. How far does the Aetheric field stretch? Maybe a foot outside of Copperopolis? Our vehicles sputter out and die if you try to take them further. My aetherforged body would be a liability.” He shook his head. “The only way I could leave would be if I booked passage with the Mercantile Guild. Only they know where the Aether Flows are and how to follow them with their airships.”
Tristan looked out a window in the direction of the horizon with some longing. “I suppose your average citizen could leave on foot, but the wilds outside the city are dangerous. I’ve read accounts of the animals that live out there. They begin not far from the boundaries, and I’ve never heard of anyone successfully crossing on foot.” His attention left the horizon and focused on Dellen. “Have you ever wondered why a city was built in the middle of nowhere, where it’s next to impossible for the citizens to leave?”
“People can’t leave the city?” Gilgamesh said. “How curious.”
“Tristan, if this is a real concern of yours, I will do what I can to help you secure passage on an airship.”
Tristan looked at him in shock. “How? The Mercantile Guild doesn’t accept hires in the city as airship crew, and fares are expensive.”
“If you help me explore under the city, I will help you get out of Copperopolis.”
Tristan locked his gaze with Dellen’s, searching his eyes, then he stuck out his hand, and they shook. “Tomorrow afternoon.”