Dellen sat in silence after his meeting with Thaddeus. Short of killing the man, he didn’t know how to prevent the disaster. The problem was they shared a goal. Dellen wanted to see the world beyond Copperopolis, and so did Thaddeus. It was just his methods Dellen disagreed with.

His carriage touched down outside the Copperopolis Chronicle.

“What are you going to tell her this time?” Gilgamesh asked.

“I’m going to ask her to accompany me to the Lockridge Estate tonight.”

“Why would she do that?”

“It’s a gala limited to the wealthy and the nobility; I’d be surprised if she wasn’t a least a little tempted,” Dellen said. He led the way into the building, up the stairwell, and across the office to knock on Eliza’s door.

“Come in?” Said a curious voice.

Dellen opened the door and swept his way the short distance he could progress into the office before furniture blocked him. “Ms. Montgomery?”

“Yes?” Eliza said, looking both confused and curious.

Dellen closed the door behind him, “Please allow me to introduce myself; my name is Dellen Northcote.”

Eliza’s eyes examined his garments before she spoke, “Would that be, Lord Dellen Northcote?”

“It would.”

“Why are you in my office Lord Northcote?” She said.

“I’ve read your articles and enjoyed them,” Dellen said.

“Thank you, and…?” Eliza said, her voice trailing off.

“And I’d like to invite you to tonight’s gala at the Lockridge Estate.”

Eliza blinked at him several times. “Why?”

“I believe that a powerful resident of our city is frustrated with the Mercantile Guild and wants to attack the city to punish them.”

Eliza pushed her glasses higher up on her nose. “Let’s say for a minute that I believe you. Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know,” Dellen said, “But the attack is in seven days. We don’t have much time.”

Eliza squinted at him in suspicion. “And why are you coming to me, Lord Northcote?”

“You write entertaining, well-researched articles, but you aren’t high-ranking enough for it to be likely that you’ve been recruited by the saboteurs.”

Eliza subdued a slight grimace. “That isn’t the compliment that you think it is.”

Dellen gave her an apologetic smile. “Perhaps not, but I don’t know how to read people, interrogate them, or follow up and get them to reveal more than they intended. You do. Will you come with me to the Lockridge Estate, attend the gala, and perhaps see if you hear anything that would motivate someone to attack the city?”

Eliza tapped her chin, “I don’t know. Attack the city how?”

“By placing Aetheric Infusers on the central support columns of many of the cogs, causing the metal to expand unevenly, ultimately causing it to shear, tilting the cogs to angles as high as ninety degrees from level, while causing others to fall into the chasm beneath the city.” He shrugged. “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”

Eliza looked at him aghast. “How vivid and specific.”

“Will you help me?” Dellen asked.

She sat in her chair, one elbow on her desk, chin in her hand, and stared at him for an uncomfortably long time. “I’ll help you.” She said at last, “Why don’t I hire a carriage to your estate, meet you, and we can depart together.”

Dellen wondered if she was concealing where she lived. “Thank you,” he said, giving her a smile and a slight bow and showing her the invitation.

“Is that all, Lord Northcote?” Eliza said.

“That is all, Ms. Montgomery, I’ll see you tonight.” He said, and walked out of her office and the building.

“How do you plan to spend that afternoon?” Gilgamesh said.

Dellen waited until they were out of the Chronicle offices before he answered. “I was forced to learn how to use magnetism, but I haven’t practiced with it since this loop started; I thought I might work on that for a few hours before meeting with Eliza.”

“Expecting trouble?” Gilgamesh asked.

Dellen looked over at him, “Aren’t you?”

“What could happen at a Gala, even to you?”

Dellen laughed, “I don’t know.”

Thirty minutes later, he was in his rooms on the Northcote Estate, stripped to the waist, attempting to pull small cogs to him from a few feet away. “You said you were using this to climb below the city?” Gilgamesh asked.

“I think it was easier because I’d also integrated copper into my body.”

“That makes sense,” Gilgamesh said, “The more materials you have aetherforged, the easier it is to manipulate Aether.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Dellen paused to consider Gilgamesh’s form, free of steelskin he looked like something manufactured rather than a living being. “Does that mean that you’re exceptionally good at manipulating Aether?”

“In the Refinery? Yes, out here, no, not really. The rules are different out here.”

“I’m sure we’ll get you back to the Refinery, eventually,” Dellen said, “I’ve never asked, how long do you have? Someone like Thaddeus has lived for centuries, and he’s only very slightly inorganic.”

“In the Refinery, we are ageless.”

“Then we have a lot of time to find you a path back,” Dellen reassured him.

“Thank you,” Gilgamesh said quietly.

Dellen nodded and went back to trying to manipulate magnetism. An hour later, he managed to stick his hand to the wall.

Maisy bustled into his room, and Dellen unstuck himself. “My lord, I understand that you are attending the Lockridge Gala tonight and taking a companion. May I ask how you plan on dressing for the event?”

Dellen looked at his discarded clothes from the day, “Are those not appropriate?”

Maisy didn’t sigh, but her stern look left no doubt in his mind that she disapproved of his choices.

“Would you be able to assist me in this matter?” He asked.

“Only if my lord so wishes.” She said, “I wouldn’t dream of intruding.”

Dellen stifled a smile. “Thank you.” He let himself be led to his overly large closet, complete with a mirror, fitting area, and a pair of leather sitting chairs.

“Wait here, my lord,” Maisy said, gesturing at the chairs while she moved about, picking out a formal suit for him.

Dellen saw that she had picked out a double-breasted navy suit fastened with a row of silver buttons. Each button bore the crest of House Northcote, subtle but there if you looked for it. Wide lapels were lines with a soft, silver fabric. His shirt was white and accompanied by a cravat of a rich sapphire blue. His boots were polished leather, reaching to mid-calf.

“There you are, my lord, in this, you will do your house proud. Do you need help putting it on?”

Dellen began to say that he didn’t when he realized he had no idea how to tie a cravat. “I need some help here.” He said, pointing at that one garment.

“I will wait outside until you are ready for me.” She said.

“Thank you.” A few minutes later, he emerged and allowed Maisy to help him.

“It’s good to see House North well represented,” Maisy said, admiring her handiwork.

“Thank you again,” Dellen said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to wait on the roof for my carriage.”

“My lord,” Maisy said, withdrawing.

“Sometimes it seems like you’re a prisoner here,” Gilgamesh said.

“Less so than most citizens,” Dellen replied, leading the way to the roof.

Copperopolis was pretty at night; the dancing buildings were much like fireflies, just of a different scale. A breeze from above ruffled his hair, he tilted his neck to see Eliza’s carriage descending.

Dellen waited for the carriage to land on the roof before walking to the door and opening it. Eliza was within wearing an expression that carried a blend of excitement, nerves, and amusement. “Lord Northcote.” She said.

“Good evening, Ms. Montgomery,” Dellen replied, “Thank you for the pleasure of your company this evening.”

Eliza gestured at her ensemble, “I hope this will be appropriate.” She wore a dress of rich burgundy with long, slim sleeves and a modest neckline decorated with golden embroidery. Her hair was pulled back, leaving a few strands to frame her face.

“Absolutely,” Dellen said, climbing into the carriage, followed by Gilgamesh.

Eliza’s posture relaxed, and her next words sounded less formal. “I’ve never been to a gala. What’s it like?”

Dellen did not know, but he could hazard an educated guess. “From House Lockridge? Probably on the lavish side. Trust your instincts, smile a lot, spend more time holding your drinks than actually drinking them, and you’ll probably be fine.”

He felt himself pressed into the seat as the carriage took off.

Eliza leaned forward to speak to him. “What do you really hope to learn tonight?”

“I’m not sure,” Dellen said, “I haven’t been part of this world for a long time. I’m not relishing the prospect of re-introducing myself to it.”

“What have you been doing?”

Dellen considered his options: running across a collapsing cog, repeated aetherforging deaths, Ironclad Boxing, researching Aetheric Cultivation. “I’ve been working on my hand-to-hand combat and my Aetheric Cultivation,” he waggled his fingers, “I’ve had some success there.” It seemed that his efforts to produce funds from boxing had been in vain, but he did not regret learning how to throw a proper punch.

“And at the boxing?”

Dellen allowed himself a small smile and spoke of his training for the remainder of the carriage ride. He broke off the conversation when he felt the pressure of descent. “We’re here.”

Their carriage came to a halt at the entrance to the estate, and their door was opened from without. An attendant in Lockridge Livery, crisp black and silver, stepped forward, offering a gloved hand to help Eliza descend from the carriage. Dellen, stepped out onto the cobblestones without assistance. Gilgamesh flew out behind him.

Around them, the Lockridge Estate was awash with a soft, golden light that spilled out from dozens of lanterns hanging from the building’s facade.

Taking a moment to straighten his jacket, Dellen stepped forward, Eliza by his side. They approached the entrance together, Dellen was impressed to see that despite her earlier stated worries, Eliza’s step was confident. At the door, another uniformed servant stood ready with a silver tray. On it lay a stack of invitations from guests who had already arrived.

Dellen handed his invitation over to the servant. The man glanced at it briefly, his eyes flicking over the elegant script before giving a tiny nod. “Lord Northcote, welcome to the Lockridge Gala,” he intoned, stepping aside to allow them entrance.

They stepped into the grand foyer of the estate, and a wave of light and sound washed over them. Ahead of them were clusters of elegantly dressed nobles engaged in animated conversations, waiters drifting through the crowd with trays of drinks and a quartet playing in the corner.

A stained glass window in one corner caught his eye, and he walked toward it.

“Where are you going?” Eliza asked him.

“Sorry,” Dellen said, “I quite like stained glass; it’s fascinating, and I never seem to have enough time to indulge in a quiet moment of enjoying art.”

“You are an unusual man, a noble, a cultivator, a pugilist, and now an aesthete.”

An unfamiliar voice interrupted them. “Lord Northcote, what a surprise to see you dressed, appropriately.”

Dellen fixed a smile on his face and turned to the speaker, a vision of sophistication dressed in a gown of deep emerald silk; her silver hair was coiffed, and her jewels sparkled under the chandeliers; most arresting was her smile. The smile of a predator closing in on its’ prey.

Eliza responded first. “Good evening; I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. Eliza Montgomery.”

“Lady Vane,” she said.

“Lady Vane, you flatter me,” Dellen said.

“Flattery is unnecessary and unintended. I value facts, not sweet words, and the fact is that I’ve heard that your house is in some financial distress.” She allowed a hint of sympathetic sadness to cross her features, “I have a use for some alloys, and I would be interested in alleviating your financial burden if we could discuss a discount.”

Dellen ground his teeth. Interactions like this were exactly why he hadn’t wanted to come. He didn’t remember Lady Vane, but he didn’t think she liked him much, nor did he think for a second that he could trust her.

“Absolutely. Could we arrange a meeting later this week to discuss what you have in mind? As it happens, I have a meeting at Northcote Industries tomorrow.”

“I’ll look forward to your visit the day after then. Come see me at my offices.”

Lady Vane floated away, making Dellen think of a predatory cloud. He crossed her off his mental list of allies or culprits; he didn’t see why she would benefit from attacking the city; if anything, she was thriving.

Dellen’s attention was drawn to the landing halfway up the stairs above the party by the ringing of a small bell.

Standing above them all was Lady Victoria Lockridge, their host, “Thank you all for coming to my annual gala. Please follow my staff into the ballroom.”