The blaring sound of Thaddeus' voice jolted Dellen from his fitful slumber. The acoustics of the sparse room did nothing to muffle the Aetheric Cultivator's scolding.

"Lord Northcote!" The title was hurled at him with disdain, so stripped of its respect that it sounded more like an insult. Dellen winced, both at the volume and the nickname. His eyelids fluttered open to meet Thaddeus’s stern gaze. The older man towered over him, arms folded across his chest, his face set in a scowl.

Thaddeus's steely eyes seemed to sear right through him, their intensity burning brighter than the harsh lights above. “Your recklessness knows no bounds, does it?” He continued, each word punctuated with an authoritative annoyance that made Dellen feel like a scolded child.

Attempting to swallow, Dellen found his throat dry and raw. The room swayed a little, but he focused his gaze on Thaddeus, gathering what strength he had left to form a response.

Thaddeus didn’t let him speak. "And look at the cost of your folly," his voice filled the room, lacing each syllable with scorn that seemed to crawl under Dellen's steelskin.

Thaddeus waved a hand towards Dellen's mottled side, a dark canvas of purples, blues, and blacks where it hadn’t split apart. The bruising was a shocking contrast against the paleness of Dellen's skin. Black marks spread like ugly lines of infection, surrounded by blotches of red. He was covered in small cuts that dribbled blood onto his clothes.

Dellen's gaze followed Thaddeus’s hand, flinching at the sight of his own body. He knew this was just the visible damage. His injuries within had to be worse. “The alloy... it didn't settle right, formed clumps and edges where there should have been smooth integration." Thaddeus continued, his voice cold, factual, "It's like having shards of glass lodged in your flesh. You’re going to feel them every time you move. With each breath you take."

A wave of nausea hit Dellen at the mental image, his stomach churning. Thaddeus' words hung heavy in the air, a brutal testament to Dellen's ill-advised bravery. It was one thing to know about the pain, and another thing entirely to hear about the irreversible damage his body had sustained.

"Your recklessness has cost you dearly, Northcote." Thaddeus finished, his tone dipping into something almost resembling pity. “Normally, I’d feel sympathy, maybe even try to help you, but unfortunately, I don’t have that luxury today.” A door opened, and in walked Captain Thatch.

Dellen’s stomach dropped with the suddenness of a falling cog.

“Uh-oh,” said Gilgamesh, “She wasn’t here earlier.”

Thatch sauntered forward, a grin creeping onto her face. It was the same look of grim satisfaction that a cat might have when it caught a bird in its claws.

"Lord Northcote," she drawled, "You're looking quite... Under the weather." Her eyes swept over his bruised and battered form with blatant amusement. "Now, isn't this a sad sight?"

Thatch's voice was like a knife, cold and sharp, each word sending a fresh wave of humiliation through Dellen. He felt an icy dread curling in the pit of his stomach, but he swallowed it down, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

He tried to sit up, feeling the pull of each nodule under his steelskin.

She chuckled a cruel sound that echoed in the stark silence of the room. "I must admit, I didn't think I'd have the pleasure to see you like this, hurt, helpless, barely able to move. What a lovely twist of fate."

“That’s enough of that,” Thaddeus said, “I just wanted confirmation he was who you said he was. I’d hoped you’d made a mistake.” He shook his head, “You had so much promise.”

Thatch took a step back, the cruel smile never left her lips as she took a step back, crossing her arms. "Well, I'll leave you to your suffering, Northcote," she said, amusement lacing her voice. "It's been... enjoyable catching up."

“Wait,” Thaddeus said, he looked at Dellen with resignation in his eyes. “The woman with you, who was she?”

Dellen’s eyes widened, surprised that Victoria had not been recognized. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure.” Thaddeus said, “I’d like to keep this civilized; just tell me her name. It doesn’t need to be uglier than that.”

Dellen looked at him in disgust, “Civilised, doesn’t need to be uglier. Do you know how many people you’re going to kill?”

“Not as many as I’m going to save.”

“You don’t save people by killing them.”

“No,” Thaddeus agreed, “You save people by freeing them. We live in a prison with no walls, and I’m tired of it.” Thaddeus’s voice grew louder, “Every citizen here is born a prisoner and dies a prisoner; we have two jailers, the Mercantile Guild, and Copperopolis itself.”

“Then work with the guild, negotiate!” Dellen yelled; even that small action hurt him, with metal under his cheeks and along his jaw rubbing into his steelskin.

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“You think in three centuries I never considered diplomacy?” Thaddeus said, his voice filled with scorn, “What incredible hubris do you have to think that you and you alone thought of that? It’s not that simple! The guild doesn’t negotiate! Nothing I, we, or anyone in Copperopolis offers them could be worth more than running the machine. This isn’t a city. It’s an enormous machine.”

“A machine?” Dellen and Gilgamesh said at the same time, “That does what?”

“It drills the chasm below, digging into the ground. The mercantile guild sells the ore they find there.”

“What ore could be so valuable?”

“I don’t know, I heard a rumour of a rumour that it’s called moonstone.” Thaddeus said, in the tired voice of a man putting down a secret.

“That’s what’s in your chest,” Gilgamesh said, “It’s part of the cradle in your chest, moonstone. He’s right. It’s rare and valuable.”

Dellen swallowed, “So what if they are? Why does that make the city a prison?”

“The city draws all of the Aether in from the land around us. It doesn’t generate the Aether like we’re taught, it drinks it in. That’s why the Mercantile Guild and only the Mercantile Guild know how to leave.”

“And why don’t they just let us leave?”

“Camouflage, with people living here, Copperopolis looks like a city, not a mine.”

“They’ve made all of us into prisoners just to protect their property and make a profit?”

“Yes.”

“And how does attacking the city change any of this?”

Thaddeus released a disappointed sigh, “The cogs stop spinning, the machine stops, the area around Copperopolis fills with Aether, and any airship can leave without needing to know how to navigate the safe paths.”

“He really is trying to free people,” Gilgamesh said, his voice high with surprise.

Dellen felt the allure of just being able to leave. He hadn’t been in the city long, and already he chafed at his captivity, but he’d been on those cogs when they fell, he’d seen the scared people, he’d tried to save them. “You can’t justify killing half of the city so people can leave if they want to.”

“That self-righteous attitude must be easy to keep when you can leave anytime you want. You’re a noble, one of the rare few who might be able to put together the funds needed for a single fare.”

“You’re talking about sentencing thousands and thousands of innocent people to a terrifying death and destroying people’s homes. I’m not the one ignoring a problem,” Dellen said.

“You idiot,” Gilgamesh said, “You could have lied!”

“I thought you might feel that way,” Thaddeus said. He turned to look at Thatch, “We’re too close,” his face twisted in distaste, “We can’t leave him alive.”

“Thatch pulled out a knife.”

“No, we need it to look like an accident.”

“An accident?” She said, “He can barely move, let alone walk; how is he going to have an accident?”

“He tried to forge himself twice in three days.” Thaddeus said, “It will be easy to make people believe he tried again to fix himself.”

Dellen felt a chill, he was so close, he could feel it. All he needed to do was survive long enough to get Lady Victoria to convince the constabulary to find the explosives. He moved to get up, Thatch slammed a hand down in the middle of his chest and bound him to the table. “Now, now, you won’t be leaving so quickly. Tell me, just like Valtair asked, who was the woman?”

“Don’t know,” Dellen said.

“Tell them who she is. We can get to her in time and warn her!” Gilgamesh said.

That didn’t feel right to Dellen.

Thatch pulled out her knife again, “Valtair might not like this sort of thing,” she licked the flat side of her knife, “But I do. Now, who was the woman?” She pushed the blade into his hand, sliding between his metacarpals.

Dellen screamed.

“Oh, that’s good,” she said, “No bone there,” she worked the blade back and forth, sawing muscle and steelskin.

“Is that necessary?” Thaddeus asked.

“Maybe not, but it’s effective, and he’s annoying me.”

“This is who you’re working with,” Dellen gasped out.

“Take it out of his hand!” Thaddeus snapped, “How are we going to explain away a stab wound?”

“Crisp him,” Thatch said, “No one will be able to tell if he loses control of the Aether.”

“You are uncouth,” Thaddeus said, “But correct.” He faced Dellen, “I take no pleasure in this, but I can’t let you stop me from freeing our people.” He held up Dellen’s satchel and showed him the remaining four ingots of copper-iron-zinc. “This will probably hurt less if you don’t try to survive.” He clipped Dellen’s wrists into place with cuffs, then put the ingots into contact with Dellen’s steelskin. In a moment of horror, Dellen realized Thaddeus was going to funnel Electrical Aether into him.

“Can you do anything to help me?” He said to Gilgamesh, hearing a hysterical tinge enter his voice.

“If Lady Victoria was here? Maybe,” Gilgamesh said, his voice sorrowful.

A shadow of confusion passed over Thaddeus’s face, “Don’t force yourself to suffer.” He turned a dial, and Electrical Aether flooded into Dellen.

His world turned into a swirling vortex of energy. The crackle of the power coursed through him like a storm, a rush of pure force that made every nerve in his body sing. The pain was all-consuming, a fire that seared him from within. His vision blurred, and he tasted iron in his mouth.

Aether coursed through him, threatening to consume him, there was more of it than Tristan had ever dared let him wield. It resisted his every attempt to tame or corral. Flooding out of control, dancing along his metal-laced bones, and arcing over his skin, even the precipitated zinc shone with Aether. Steelskin smoking, Dellen tried to gather his waning strength, he struggled to focus even a small portion of the Aether on the cuffs that bound him.

It was like trying to control a wild animal. He struggled to tame the powerful surge of Aether. He pushed and pushed, feeling the boundaries of his ability stretching thin.

Then, he felt it. A subtle shift in the air, the barest hint of a change. He forced the Aether into the cuffs and, for a moment, held his breath. In a burst of light and heat, the cuffs dissolved, fading into a cloud of gaseous metal that swirled into his body.

Dellen had no strength left to exploit his new-found freedom. The surge of Aether had taken its toll, leaving him drained and weak. His body sagged on the table, every muscle screaming in protest. The pain in his side grew worse, metal links and lacing becoming malleable and pulling apart. His vision swam as darkness started to creep in at the edges.

The Aether continued to overwhelm him, Dellen pushed it out of his body and onto the wooden table beneath him, but the Electrical Aether took a course all its own, flickering into the ingots. They too, flashed bright and dissolved.

Toxic metal flowed into Dellen’s body.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” Thaddeus said.

“Push it out!” Gilgamesh said, “Don’t keep it!”

Dellen’s vision narrowed.

His senses turned inward, the storm of inimical metal raced through him, burning, biting, opening new wounds and widening those that existed, scouring new channels in his flesh. He sought to direct the metal out, he pushed it back at his hands seeking an escape.

Gilgamesh slammed into Dellen’s back, pushing him off the side of the table, into Thaddeus and Thatch.

Dellen’s hands made contact with their skin, and he pushed.

A storm of gaseous metal flowed out of his body and into each of them.