“This isn’t the ballroom?” Eliza said to Dellen.

“Ah no, this is just her foyer. I suspect the ballroom will be rather more lavish.”

Conversations around them tapered off, and the crowd of well-dressed nobles followed Lady Lockridge’s servants through archways and corridors.

The grand ballroom impressed Dellen, it made him realize what the Northcote Estate must have looked like in better days. The room was vast and easily able to accommodate hundreds of guests. The ceiling was high, painted with intricate frescoes depicting what Dellen thought was the history of Copperopolis. Chandeliers adorned with sparkling crystals hung from the ceiling, casting a gentle glow over the room.

The walls were decorated with tapestries and paintings, and the marble floor was polished, reflecting the glow from above. Tall, arched windows lined the room, framed by magnificent curtains.

Round tables draped with white cloth were placed around the room, each decorated with crystal vases and fresh flowers. At the room’s far end was an elevated stage with a grand piano and a small orchestra.

Eliza’s face seemed stuck in an expression of shock. “This is normal to you?” She said, her voice low and incredulous.

“No, I suspect this is what my family home used to look like; now it looks like this, but aged.”

“I think you would be horrified by my small home,” Eliza said.

“Are you under the impression that I practice hand-to-hand combat while taking breaks to lambaste the musicians and sip at my tea?” Dellen asked, his voice light while he scanned the room.

Gilgamesh floated over to his head, “I’m a bit nervous that someone else here will have an affinity like our host, but I haven’t overheard any conversations that make me think one of your fellows is working with Thaddeus.”

Dellen nodded but didn’t say anything that Eliza might overhear.

As the crowd shifted and swirled, a figure detached himself from a small group. A portly man with a thick handlebar moustache and a gleaming monocle approached Dellen. He was dressed in a richly embroidered waistcoat, his hair was slicked back, graying at the temples, and gleamed under the chandelier light.

“Dellen Northcote,” he boomed, extending a hand adorned with a large signet ring. “I’ve been hoping to cross paths with you this evening,” he smiled at Eliza, “And who is your companion?”

“This,” Dellen said, turning to Eliza, “Is Ms. Eliza Montgomery.”

“A member of the working class. How novel,” he gave Eliza a slight nod of his head, “Eldred Smythe.” He shook Dellen’s hand. “Bad business with your father, dying like that.”

“Quite.” Dellen agreed.

"I've been watching Northcote Industries, young man. You've inherited quite the enterprise," he said, sipping his brandy. The amber liquid shimmered in the ballroom light.

"Thank you, Lord Smythe," Dellen responded, his gaze steady. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was headed.

"You've done well in maintaining operations after your father's untimely demise," Smythe continued, swirling the brandy in his glass. "However, it's a lot of responsibility for a young man like yourself, wouldn't you say?"

"I'm managing," Dellen said, his tone neutral, knowing in truth that he wasn’t.

Smythe chuckled, patting Dellen on the shoulder with his free hand. "Of course, of course. But you know, I've been considering expanding my own portfolio. Diversifying, as they say. Northcote Industries could be a valuable addition."

Dellen kept his expression calm, though inside his mind was racing. "Are you suggesting a partnership, Lord Smythe?"

"A partnership? No, no, my dear boy. I'm suggesting a buyout. You'd be handsomely compensated, of course. And free to pursue whatever other endeavors you wish," Smythe said, his eyes gleaming behind his monocle.

Dellen was silent for a moment, assessing Smythe's expression. It was a tempting offer, but giving up Northcote Industries was not an option. "I'll think about it, Lord Smythe," he said, finally. "But Northcote Industries is more than just an enterprise to me. It's a legacy." As he said it, Dellen wondered if it was true.

Smythe nodded, seemingly understanding. "Of course, of course. Do take your time to consider Northcote. The offer remains open," he said, finishing his brandy and setting the glass on a passing server's tray. With a final nod, he moved away, disappearing into the crowd.

Dellen watched him go.

“Would you sell your company?” Eliza asked him.

“I’m meeting with the workers tomorrow,” he said with a sigh, “I’ll sleep on the idea.”

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The evening progressed, and they passed from one meaningless conversation to another. Dellen felt a sense of dread when a tall and imperious figure accosted them. Silver hair pulled back in a tight bun, dark eyes sparkled, looking at him with a predatory gleam akin to the gaze of Lady Vane.

“Lord Northcote,” she greeted him, her voice smooth, every syllable enunciated with precision. “How delightful to see you here.”

“Countess Henrietta Blackwood,” Gilgamesh said from over his shoulder. “People seem to be more afraid than friendly with her.”

“Countess Blackwood,” Dellen responded, bowing slightly, “The pleasure is mine.”

Her thin lips curled in a smile, but her eyes were frosty. "I must commend you on your efforts at Northcote Industries. I hear you've been quite busy."

Dellen inclined his head, wondering where she’d heard that from or if it was just conversation. "Yes, there is much to be done."

"Indeed. Business can be such a burden, can't it? Especially when one is so young," she mused, her gaze sweeping over him. "And Northcote Industries is such a... Considerable venture. Are you sure it doesn't interfere with your... Personal pursuits?"

Dellen met her gaze squarely. "I appreciate your concern, Countess, but I assure you I'm quite capable of managing my responsibilities."

The Countess let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, I have no doubt, Lord Northcote. But remember, even the tallest towers can fall if their foundations aren't strong enough. I do hope you're taking care of your... Foundations." She walked off without looking back.

“I think I prefer my days at the chronicle to this,” Eliza said.

“Nonsense,” Dellen said, procuring her a canapé from a passing server, “There are some small, slim, benefits.”

Dellen had barely recovered from his encounter with Countess Blackwood when a familiar voice spoke from behind him.

“Lord Dellen Northcote.”

Dellen froze and marshaled his expression; it was Lady Lockridge, their host. He turned to find Lady Victoria standing behind them.

“Lady Lockridge,” Dellen greeted her, offering a respectful nod, “Thank you so very much for the invitation to your magnificent gala.”

Ignoring his compliment, she narrowed her eyes at him, “What is that fascinating device over your shoulder, and why can’t my other guests see it?”

Dellen blinked, taken aback. “How did you know that?”

“What is she talking about?” Eliza asked in confusion.

“That floating mechanical device that has been flying around this room, avoiding me and periodically reporting to you. What is it? And why am I certain that I’ve seen it before? On top of that, I make a point of knowing of every aetherforged noble in the city, yet here you are, with steelskin on your face and your hands, and all that surprises me is your face.”

Lady Lockridge leaned closer. “Why do I have memories of you that I don’t understand?”

Dellen rubbed his chin. “I have answers for you, but I don’t believe you’ll want to hear them out here. Is there a private room that we could retreat to?”

Lady Lockridge scanned the room before gesturing for him to follow her. “This way.” She led them out of the ballroom down a hallway and into a sitting room with eight chairs and a table. “Sit and explain.”

Dellen sat, as did Eliza whose face expressed confusion and interest.

“Where to begin?” Dellen said.

“At the beginning.” Gilgamesh cut in.

“It can talk?” Lady Lockridge shouted in surprise.

“It, I, can talk, yes,” Gilgamesh said, with some asperity. “Honestly, you have no idea how nice it is to talk to someone other than Dellen.” He released a noise like a sigh. “I thought I’d be scared to meet you, but it turns out it’s so freeing.”

“Why are the two of you just staring, and why does Lady Lockridge look so shocked?” Eliza asked, discreetly pointing at Lady Lockridge’s mouth, which was, in fact, hanging open.

“My companion, Gilgamesh, just introduced himself to Lady Lockridge.” Dellen said.

“Gilgamesh? Where is he?” Eliza asked.

“You can’t see him unless you have the right affinity.”

Lady Lockridge had risen to her feet and walked over to Gilgamesh, to examine him from all around. “What do you mean the right affinity? I have an affinity for Kinematic Aether; that would mean that many of my guests this evening should be able to see him.”

Dellen gave a polite cough, “This is just a theory on my part, but I suspect you have two affinities.”

“That’s impossible, no-one has two affinities.” Lady Lockridge said.

“I do.”

Lady Lockridge and Eliza both stared at him.

“What are the two affinities that you possess?” Eliza said.

Dellen held up a hand and let sparks play over his fingertips. “I have an affinity to Electrical Aether, and another affinity to Chronometric Aether.”

“There’s no such thing as Chronometric Aether.” Lady Lockridge said.

“Chronometric Aether exists,” Gilgamesh said, “There just isn’t much of it here, in Copperopolis.”

“There’s a lot under the city, though,” Dellen said.

“What do you mean, under the city?” Lady Lockridge said.

“A lot of what?” Eliza whispered.

“Chronometric Aether,” Dellen said back.

Lady Lockridge strode over to Dellen and looked him in the eyes as well as she could with her diminutive frame. “What business have you had under the city?”

Dellen took a deep breath. “There’s an attack coming; in six days, saboteurs have been or will attach Aetheric Infusers to the central support columns of many of the city’s cogs and explosives in many of the large airships. Cogs will either tilt or fall into the chasm. I went under the city to try and find and remove Aetheric Infusers.”

Eliza’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re speaking in the future tense and the past tense.”

Dellen nodded, “I was there, I saw the attack, then I moved backward in time to before the disaster, and I’ve been looking for a way to avert it.”

“I’ve had quite enough of this nonsense, Lord Northcote. You may escort yourself out of my home.” Lady Lockridge pointed at the door.

“If this is nonsense, then how do you explain me?” Gilgamesh asked.

Lady Lockridge frowned at Gilgamesh. “Time travel is impossible.”

“I don’t believe it is,” Gilgamesh and Dellen said in concert.

“What do you mean there’s Chronometric Aether, under the city?”

“When I touched a support column under the city, I was bathed in Chronometric Aether,” he paused while the memory of gaseous copper scorching into his body played through his mind, “It felt like time stood still, and I accidentally forged copper into myself.”

“You forged copper into your body just by touching the column?” Lady Lockridge asked.

“As I said, there was a lot of Chronometric Aether down there.”

She nodded, “I suppose it’s not entirely surprising, keeping the city in motion must require an incredible amount of energy.”

Eliza broke into the conversation, “That’s all incredibly interesting, and I have so many questions, but are you both telling me there’s someone in the room that you can see that I can’t?”

“Yes.”

She stared at them, “And this isn’t some sort of obscure amusement for nobles?”

Dellen rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Would you be willing to prove that?”