Dellen’s borrowed carriage deposited him outside of Northcote Industries. He stepped out, grateful for the numbing salve that had been reapplied to his stitches.

“What do you hope to do if your alloys are ready?” Gilgamesh said.

“I’m hoping to Aetherforge my wound and become more mobile.”

“I do so like it when your plans are based on hopes rather than forethought or research,” Gilgamesh said.

“Lots of hope and forethought. The quicker I move, the less likely it is that I’ve been identified by anyone, it’s not as if Thatch had my name. The sooner I use a forging chair, the better my chances are of not being caught.” He had considered going under the city for Aether, but he could not imagine getting under the city without help, and he could not imagine who would help him in his current state. Lady Lockridge might even have him bodily restrained.

“This is a terrible plan,” Gilgamesh said, his voice rich with disapproval.

“If you have better suggestions, I am open to considering them.” Dellen said, “I’ll point out that you have the much less painful side of our partnership.”

“Not yet,” Gilgamesh grumbled.

Dellen pushed the foundry door open, careful to bear the weight on the left side of his body. He approached the first worker he saw, “Can you help me find Julia, please?”

“Lord Northcote?” The man said in surprise.

“Yes,” Dellen said, “I hope to be a more frequent sight in the foundry. Do you know where Julia is?”

“Yes, my lord,” said the man, still looking surprised; he looked around, “This way, my lord.”

Dellen was led through the foundry to Julia, who wore goggles and a heavy leather apron.

“Lord Northcote,” she said, sounding surprised, “I wasn’t certain I’d be giving these to you.”

“Why not?” Dellen said, his eyebrows coming together.

“Lords say many things and create work for their underlings, but there were mutters that what you said might have been talk, and not much else.”

Dellen let the implied insult wash over him, “I won’t be disappointing you today.”

“Let me take you to your ingots. Have you made use of the first set?” She said to him over her shoulder.

“No,” he tried to hide his limping walk, “Yesterday got away from me; I ended up being lightly attacked.”

Julia stopped to give him an odd look. “Lightly attacked?”

Dellen sketched the outline of the wound on his side. “Right here, I was filleted open.”

Julia winced. “And you’re up and walking today?”

“A perk of being an Aetherforged. I’ll take these ingots and see if I can use them to accelerate the healing process.”

They resumed walking, but Julia set a slower pace. She led him to a storeroom and showed him a large stack of ingots. Dellen laughed. “This is more than I needed.”

“I had assumed as much, but I didn’t make these. When I came to find the materials you needed, I found them here. They must have been for another project that was shelved.”

“Are there a lot of wasted raw materials here?”

Julia waved a dismissing hand at him, “No more so than anywhere else. Sometimes projects get abandoned for different reasons.” She held up an ingot, “I don’t know what these were for; maybe they were before my time? Like I told you, the zinc would likely make them more corrosion resistant; they could be much older than they look.” She shrugged, “However you look at it, they’re yours.”

Dellen picked up an ingot, “Can I have another bag for these, please?”

Minutes later, Dellen strode out of Northcote Industries with five ingots of a copper-iron-zinc alloy and five ingots of a copper-iron alloy.

“Are you going to visit the Aetheric Cultivators now?” Gilgamesh said.

“If you have a better idea, I am listening,” Dellen said.

Gilgamesh grumbled under his breath but didn’t offer any words of wisdom.

Dellen clambered into the borrowed carriage and instructed the driver to take them up. The Aetheric Cultivator’s ship came into view, and Dellen felt his pulse climb.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Gilgamesh said.

“No.”

They landed and were greeted again by Tristan.

Dellen clambered out of the carriage, moving more awkwardly than usual, trying to carry the bag of ingots without splitting open his wounded side.

“Did something go wrong with your forging? I knew I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard; I need to tell Thaddeus.”

“No,” Dellen said in a firm and forceful voice, “Nothing has gone wrong with my forging.” He ran through a series of believable lies in his head to explain away his injury. There were only so many ways that a person could hurt themselves. “I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but I’ve always been an indifferent pugilist, I thought that forging myself would help, and I may have been a tad overconfident in a practice bout. I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring it up.”

Tristan’s shoulders relaxed, and his cadence slowed, “Oh, oh, well, who couldn’t understand that? Yes, yes, of course, no need to say anything.” He nodded and straightened, “So why are you here?”

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“Thaddeus told me to come back today.”

Tristan brightened, “Oh yes, of course. Let me take you to him.”

Dellen followed Tristan until they came to a door where Tristan knocked, waited, knocked, waited, and then frowned. “That’s odd, normally, he can be found here.”

“I’m not familiar with the airship; where else could he be?”

“Anywhere,” Tristan muttered, eyes darting about, perhaps at one of our private hangers; if he’s not there, maybe we’ll meet someone who’s seen him.”

Dellen put a hand on his arm, “You know, I did have another thought. Would you be willing to help me forge again?”

Tristan looked like he’d eaten some unpleasant food but felt too polite to say so. “Ah, well.”

“Isn’t that what you do here?”

Tristan looked from side to side, eyes scanning the hallways for another person, “The thing is.”

“I understand you feel uncomfortable with how our last session went.”

“Yes,” Tristan said, relaxing again.

“You don’t want to be associated with that kind of success,” Dellen said.

“What trap are you laying now?” Gilgamesh said.

“A flawless forging session, no damage to any equipment.”

“You absorbed the contact rings around your neck, wrists, and ankles.” Tristan interrupted.

“I brought ingots,” Dellen said, patting his bag. “Perhaps there are others who would be willing to turn the dial for me? It seems a pity, though, now that I’m forged, it’s not like I’m as fragile as an untested initiate.”

“That’s true…” Tristan said, stretching the word out.

“And Thaddeus was pleased enough with my progress that he invited me back.”

“Also true,” Tristan said, his tone more thoughtful. “I suppose there’s no harm in helping you, I mean, the first time was probably a little irresponsible, but you’re right, this is different, you’re different.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t want you to do something that makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, this is fine. Why don’t we see if a chair is free?”

Dellen hid a smile, “Thank you.”

They left the door to Thaddeus’s quarters behind and traced a new route back to the lab where Tristan had first fed Electrical Aether into Dellen’s body. The room was empty.

“Perfect,” Dellen said.

“Well, no, we need some company,” Tristan said, “There are some guidelines that we have to follow.”

“Guidelines?”

“To help prevent accidents.”

Dellen hid another smile. “Can we find anyone else that might be willing to help?”

Tristan brightened, “Setup your ingots. I think I know where to find a few people who might assist you.”

Tristan left, and Gilgamesh asked, “Which ingots will you use?”

“I don’t know,” Dellen said, “I know copper-iron agrees with me. I’m not sure about zinc.”

“Forging requires risks,” Gilgamesh said.

“Haven’t you been trying to get me to be more cautious?”

“Consistency is the defense of a small mind.”

Dellen rolled his eyes.

Tristan returned, his pace swift and his demeanor purposeful. He was not alone. Trailing behind him were two youthful figures. Their clothing, though simple, was crafted for function over aesthetics. Bereft of any noble embellishments or frivolous designs, their outfits exemplified the practicality that underscored the philosophy of the Aetheric Cultivators.

One, a young woman, was unfamiliar to Dellen. Her features were sharp, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, and her eyes carried an intensity that spoke volumes of her dedication.

The other was a young man, similarly focused, his gaze burning with an almost tangible seriousness. Both bore steelskin, the trait that separated the forged from the general population.

"Dellen, meet Lydia and Callum," Tristan introduced the duo.

“Lydia, Callum,” Dellen acknowledged each in turn, a nod serving in lieu of a handshake.

“What are you doing today?” Lydia said.

“I want to forge a copper-iron alloy into my steelskin,” Dellen said.

“Interesting, why? I’ve never heard of anyone trying to use zinc. Are you sure that’s safe? I don’t recommend it.”

“My research indicates that it will improve my sensitivity to Electrical Aether.”

Callum cut in, “I haven’t read anything about zinc, but I’ve heard about you.” He shook his head, “No one has ever heard of someone forging themselves like you did in a single session.”

“You’ll help me then?”

“Lydia, can you get him strapped in?” Callum said by way of an answer.

Lydia gave them both a dissatisfied frown.

Dellen sat in the chair, a copper-iron ingot in each hand. Lydia slipped repaired metal cuffs into place on him. Dellen closed his eyes and relaxed into the chair. He could feel a slight sense of Electrical Aether coming off of Lydia.

“We share an affinity,” he said, “I thought that it was against protocol for aetherforged who shared attunements to be in the same room for testing.”

“This isn’t testing,” Lydia said.

Dellen nodded, “Ready when you are.”

“Now,” Callum said.

A faint hum of Electrical Aether buzzed into his body. Dellen sighed. He could feel it traveling through his steelskin, through his bones, channeling through his body. He visualized it like a stream, or a caged lightning bolt, drifting through his body, powerful but contained, rendered harmless. He expanded his mental image to include the ingots in his hands.

“Increase the flow,” He said, his voice still relaxed.

The current within him grew, a river flooded after a light rain.

“Increase the flow,” He opened his eyes, “We are nowhere near the point where you need to feel cautious.” He said.

Callum nodded and turned a dial.

A renewed surge of Electrical Aether coursed through him and into the ingots, and Dellen’s grip tightened. The vibrant hum of energy filled the room, a cacophony that echoed through the silent anticipation. Each ingot in his hands took on a soft glow.

Dellen felt a smile pull the side of his face; his gaze locked onto the ingots. His brows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. The Electrical Aether swirled around him like a storm, crackling with raw, untamed power. He could feel Callum increasing the flow. His arms shook with the strain, but his grip remained unyielding.

"Steady," Lydia warned from a safe distance, her voice almost lost in the low roar of the energy. "You need to guide the flow, not just contain it."

"Channel it," Callum added, his eyes focused on the dials and gauges that were tracking the flow of Aether. "Remember, it's about balance, not dominance."

Dellen nodded, drawing a slow, steadying breath. He would not let the energy overwhelm him. He had to keep his equilibrium amidst the chaos. With every beat of his heart, he attempted to draw the Aetheric energy into a harmonic rhythm, keeping the flow of power under his control.

“Give me more,” Dellen shut his eyes tight, focusing solely on the electrical surge coursing through his hands. The raw power of the Aether was almost overpowering, like holding a storm between his palms. Yet, he found a strange sort of rhythm in the chaos, an underlying pulse that resonated with the throb of his own heartbeat.

Honing in on that connection, he poured his concentration into forging a link between himself and the Aether. He visualized the energy not as an external force to be tamed but as an extension of him.

The turbulent energy began to heed his command, pulling back from its erratic frenzy. It morphed into a more controlled, rhythmic flow that matched the tempo of his heartbeat. The glow of the ingots intensified, he could see them through closed eyelids, bathing his hands in a bright, white light.

Dellen could feel the Aether responding to him, shaping itself to his will.

“More.”

Aether flooded into him, into the ingots. They dissolved in his hands. Gaseous metal poured into him through his steelskin. Dellen’s sense of self dove inward, he could feel the copper-iron traveling through him, refining him. It spread into his skeleton, replacing some bone with reinforcing threads of metal, wrapping around them, strengthening him.

“Give me two more ingots, now!” He gasped. “In my bag!” He yelled, “In my bag!”

Lydia yanked his bag open and dropped two more ingots into his waiting palms.

Dellen imagined them as part of the current of Electrical Aether. They made the journey from dull metal to glowing stars in the blink of an eye. They too dissolved into gaseous metal and poured into his being.

The metal was an intense, almost unbearable heat, coursing through his body, an internal searing, just short of causing enough pain to force him to stop.

Dellen directed the new metal to the boundaries of his wound.