The hairs on the back of Dellen’s neck were up, it felt unnatural to hear so many initiates of the Order of the Red Truth making sounds beyond the soft impact of their feet on the ground, the gentle clanking of their cutlery while eating, or shuffling as they moved about.
Initiates dispersed from the roof, vanishing down the stairs.
Dellen walked over to a tree nearby the edge of the roof and sat in its’ late afternoon shade.
The bag he had received from Lady Katherine was a heavy leather satchel, similar to what he might have used to move ingots at Northcote Industries. He undid a trio of buckles and opened the heavy leather. Within were three ingots. He picked one up and felt it. It was unmarked, but from the mottled blue and white chromium sprang into his mind. His disjointed memories told him that chromium was a useful element, that he could use on his way to Third Trinity. He supposed he could even try to forge it today, but he had already forged three materials, not even an hour earlier, the scars on his face and body were still angry and unhealed.
He thought that, perhaps, he needed time to heal. When he had forged iron and copper in Copperopolis he had, eventually, managed to do so without scarring, when he had forged silver, he managed to do so without scarring, here he thought the forging had taken more from him. He absently rubbed his arm, it ached. His stomach rumbled, and he realised how hungry he still was.
Dellen put the ingot back in his bag and buckled it shut. He pulled himself up and took a moment to look out over the grounds. Every other time he had been on this roof, he had been raking, eyes on the sand, with little to no time to look out. Now it was early evening, the sky was darkening, but he could see the city as more than pinpricks of light.
Ravenport sprawled outside of the order’s compound. In some ways, it reminded him of Copperopolis. The constant movement and dance of the buildings was absent, but the city was still built up, with buildings rubbing shoulder to shoulder. The streets hummed with people, and carriages filled the air.
There was an absence of the large airships that Dellen was used to in the Copperopolis skyline, though he could see them further away, outside of the city. His brow furrowed, then cleared. Ravenport did not allow large ships to fly over the city.
Dellen ignored his growing hunger, and walked a circuit of the building, taking in the city from all sides. The city was built on a large level area on the side of a mountain. On one side, the mountain climbed up above everything but from the other side of the building he had a view of open plains, alive with verdant green, and then the sea.
Water undulated small waves with white caps breaking on a stone shore. He spent a few minutes looking out, eyes alternating been the green fields and rippling white-capped blue, so unlike the stone halls that had dominated his last week. Then his stomach growled again, sending him down the stairs looking for food. A meal of bland food later, he ascended the stairs looking for the door out to the main grounds of the order. Stepping outside, he realized that he had not passed through the door again since his first hour on the compound.
The grounds were huge, with the tower-like home of the order taking up less than a tenth of the land. The rest was manicured grass, trees, and hedges lined by a tall wall to keep the city out.
Dellen walked up to the wall, it stretched over twenty feet tall.
The order’s land was an oasis in Ravenport. Dellen very much wanted to see what was on the outside.
“They don’t let us out unless we’ve reached the Fourth Trinity.”
Dellen turned to see the initiate speaking to him, they were a head shorter than him and built like an anvil. “What Trinity are you?”
“Second.”
“Why weren’t you at the exhibition?”
“I’ve been stuck at Second Trinity for more than five years.”
Dellen stuck out a hand, “Dellen.”
“Ingraham. Today’s exhibitions was only for newer initiates of the Second Trinity.”
“I went, and I started the day at First Trinity.”
Ingraham looked him up and down, “You started the day at First Trinity? They let you forge your last metal before the exhibition?”
“No, between the fifth and sixth round, Master Tiberius gave me twelve ingots and had me forge all three metals simultaneously.” Dellen rubbed at his fresh scars.
Ingraham stared for a long time, when he finally spoke, he sounded thoughtful and surprised. “I’ve not heard of anyone doing that in a long time, and never between matches.”
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
“When I came back to myself a lot of people were staring at me.”
“How did you get enough power to forge in the sand garden?”
The name was new to Dellen, but self-explanatory enough, “Master Tiberius called down a lightning bolt.”
Ingraham’s mouth worked a few times before words came out, “He hit you with a lightning bolt, from a cloud, and all you have is this scarring?”
“Enough about me,” Dellen said, regretting admitting to his forging, “I’ve only been here a week, my life has been eating, raking, and training with Master Ardentus, are there many here of the Second Trinity who aren’t training their affinity?”
“At least three-quarters of us.”
“Why?” Dellen asked, feeling confused.
“Not everyone is suited to advancing. Moving from second to third is difficult, it can take years to earn the materials, and it’s not as easy to forge as the previous grades. I tried to forge several times and just couldn’t make the metals move.”
Feeding Aether into the metals had not been a consideration even once, Dellen had not even realized it was a concern. “What does the order do with you then?”
“You’re given three tries, if you aren’t seen to make progress, well,” Ingraham shrugged.
Dellen filled in the rest, there were members of the order who only cooked, cleaned, or otherwise performed the tasks he was set as chores. “Why don’t you leave?” He asked, assuming he already knew the answer.
“Leave? Leave? How would I do that? For someone like me, that gate might as well be a wall.” Ingraham sounded bitter, Dellen realized that for all of his fears of captivity, Ingraham was the one who was imprisoned.
“What is there to do on the grounds, and why are you so comfortable speaking?”
“The silence is more for those of you who they think can actually advance. They think friendships and discussion lead to weakness, speaking is for the advancing ranks.”
Dellen was confused, “You’re Second Trinity, you’re speaking.”
“Once you’ve been relegated, they don’t care.”
“Why don’t I hear anyone speaking at meals, or when I’m sent to do chores then?”
“Those of us who have been relegated know each other on sight, we talk to each other, but not in public places like you’re describing.”
“And you’re talking to me.”
Ingraham shrugged, “All of you are on liberty after the tournament. I heard stories about you, didn’t realise they were about you though. Even heard about the lightning bolt, but I thought that was exaggeration.”
“Sounds like one,” Dellen agreed, “As to my other question? What is there to do on these grounds apart from work or train?”
“There’s nothing to do here, work and rest between work. Sometimes you might be rewarded with library time.”
Dellen perked up, “Library time? Can you show me the library?”
“Why are all of you so excited by that?” Ingraham asked himself, “Fine, I’ll show you where the library is.” With very little excitement in his step, Ingraham led Dellen back to the building where he had spent all of his time, to a stairwell landing two floors above where he would find Ardentus, down the hall, up to a large wooden door with brass handles.
Dellen pushed the doors open. The first thing he smelled was old paper. Then he took in the room, it was a single-story affair, no grand and lofty ceilings, however it looked like a labyrinth of shelves.
This had all of the promise he had felt when he had first set foot in the library ruled by Master Corthos, with the benefit that The Order of the Red Truth considered aetherforged stuck two Trinitys higher than Thaddeus to be failures. He might be on the verge of learning something useful.
Dellen was back on The Phoenix’s Flight’s deck, the hatch was closed and rain rattled on metal.
The weather intensified, obscuring the visibility, making it difficult to discern the other ships in the fleet. The relentless water made it feel like they sailed the ocean rather than the sky.
“You’re back!” Gilgamesh yelled in delight.
Dellen stumbled on his feet, wind and rain lashed him, and he felt weak. It had been about two weeks since he had stood on the deck in the storm, he felt foggy, whiplashed. Storms, pirates, crashing. He knew how to lead them to the pirates, but he wanted a different outcome.
Dellen dashed over to Aurora.
“I told you to go below deck.”
“Captain, we need to get away from this storm fast, I feel Electrica Aether above us, ahead of us, and below us, we need to turn back he yelled over the wind and rain.
Aurora frowned at him. “Electrical Aether?” Her eyes flickered over his forged form. She spun the wheel, and the Phoenix turned about.
“As fast as we can, captain, and captain? I need silver.”
“Silver? What do you need with Silver?” Aurora yelled at him.
“Below decks, second storage room,” Gilgamesh said, not burdened by Aurora’s sense of curiosity.
Dellen ignored Aurora’s screaming as he opened the hatch and flew down the passageway into the storage room. Gilgamesh followed just behind him, “Third shelf, fourth bag, the one with the torn clasp.”
Hand on the bag, Dellen hauled it down the passageway and onto the deck. The air felt charged to him, a week of practicing under Ardentus had done wonders for his senses and his control.
“What are you doing with my coins?” Aurora yelled, her voice as friendly as a blade sliding from a sheath.
“Get us out of this storm!” Dellen yelled, he could feel the charge around them rising, a bolt was coming, it was powerful, far too powerful for him to push away, not when there were no other targets. He knelt on the deck, right hand pressed on the canvas bag, feeling coins press into his palm, left hand in the air, calling to the sky.
He felt it the moment the lightning began, a faint connection between him and something above, then came the power. It brightened the deck, even in the driving rain, the sound of thunder washed over him, drowning out the storm. Aether surged into him.
It started at his left hand and shot across his body to his right, Dellen fed Aether into the coins, he felt half of them turn to gaseous metal and pulled them into his body. The forging felt familiar, warmth running up his arm, coating muscle, skin, and bone in fine threads of silver.
There was pain, there was always pain, but he welcomed it, First Trinity was a moment away. Silver rushed past his shoulder, this time, he did his best to send it to the cradle in his chest, moonstone and whisper steel acknowledged the influx of Electrical Aether, and woke up, just enough to pull the clock to the front of his mind.
In the space between ticks, Dellen sent the rest of the gaseous metal and untamed Aether to his Spark Core. His Spark Core, drank in the silver and spun, pumping Aether throughout his body. He felt his organs, his eyes, his bones, his arm, his legs, his torso, and his steelskin integrate silver all at once.