They left the dockmaster, and ventured into the city. Dellen thought about what he was hoping to accomplish, he was in Ravenport, perhaps in a position to help the remaining members of the fleet, maybe even to find Thaddeus or Tristan.

Miss Thornbrook took the lead, her steps confident and purposeful. Along the cobblestone streets, lamps flickered to life, casting a warm, amber glow on the surrounding buildings. The architecture boasted ironwork balconies and towering facades adorned with carvings and decorative arches. The rhythmic clanking of machinery resonated through the air. The sound of steam whistles filled the air intermittently, signaling the departure or arrival of airships at the nearby port.

She guided them down alleys lined with bustling shops and storefronts. Elaborate displays in the windows showcased goods from cobblers to bakers to miniature clockwork wonders. They passed by a street musician playing a melodic tune on a violin that followed them through three intersections.

As they drew closer to the auction house, its sheer magnitude impressed Dellen. The building stood tall and imposing. It wasn’t as tall as the tower owned by the order, nor was it as wide, but it was more complex, with architectural intricacies commanding attention. Ornate balconies adorned the facade, wooden with ironwork railings, their filigree designs reminiscent of delicate lacework.

Dellen's eyes roamed the grandeur before him, taking in the subtle details he had failed to notice upon leaving with the order. The ironwork to the left of the main door was all wrought in designs of city and industry, while the designs to the right depicted animals and pastoral settings. Large window designs were free of colored glass, but each had a crest that he assumed was for the auction house itself.

“Who are we going to talk to here?” Eliza asked.

“I haven’t been to Ravenport in years,” Miss Thornbrook said, “But the last time I was here, the head clerk who recorded the details of all of the auctions was Theodore Cromwell.” Her voice lost some of its characteristic cheer and took on a smear of distaste with his name.

“Doesn’t sound like she much likes this Cromwell,” Gilgamesh said.

Dellen pushed at the door, it was locked and had the same sort of flexible give seen in stone walls. “Allow me,” Miss Thornbrook said, she placed a finger on the lock, then pushed the door open. Metal bolts sheared apart to allow the twelve-foot portal to swing open.

Dellen brought his hand close to the sheared bolts and felt heat radiating from them, he glanced at Miss Thornbrook and back, apart from forging Eliza and telling Bogsmith and Stevens what to do on deck, she had been relatively circumspect with her Aether, this casual destruction was the most ostentatious act he had seen her commit.

For her part, Miss Thornbrook appeared unaffected, though Dellen suspected that if she were so inclined, she could leave the structure a glowing ruin in minutes.

“Do you think you could learn to do something like that with Electrical Aether?” Gilgamesh asked.

Dellen responded with a discreet shrug and a side to side movement of his head intended to convey ‘Maybe.’

They were immediately stopped by a fussily dressed man in a black suit, with an ink smear on his left cheek. “There are no auctions remaining today, if you wish to register goods for another auction, you need to come back tomorrow.”

“No,” Miss Thornbrook said. For the first time, her tone held unwavering authority, “We will not come back tomorrow, we will be seen now. Is Theodore Cromwell in the building?”

“Mr. Cromwell is quite busy and not seeing.”

Miss Thornbrook cut him off, “Mr. Cromwell is here then, excellent, tell him that Evelyn Thornbrook is here to see him.”

“No, I cannot tell him,” the man’s face creased, “Did you say… Evelyn Thornbrook?”

“Yes.”

He stopped and looked at her, eyes traveling over her features, before moving to the previously locked door with the sheared bolts, then he swallowed. Dellen was all but certain that he was taking in the complexity of her steelskin. It showed the most evidence of forging of anyone he had yet seen. “Please come this way.”

Miss Thornbrook nodded and strode behind the now-scurrying man, watching him pick up his pace to stay just ahead of her.

The clerk, his hands trembling, led them through the dimly lit auction house. The atmosphere was hushed, with only the muffled murmurs of staff members and the faint creaking of floorboards breaking the silence. The walls of the auction house were adorned with paintings depicting scenes of grandeur and opulence.

They reached a sturdy wooden door marked with a brass plaque bearing the name "Theodore Cromwell, Auctioneer Extraordinaire." The clerk hesitated, his breath quickening, before giving a hesitant knock. The door swung open, revealing a lavishly furnished office. Soft lamplight cast a warm glow, illuminating the plush velvet drapes that hung gracefully from the windows.

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Theodore Cromwell, a distinguished gentleman with silver-streaked hair and keen eyes, sat behind an expansive desk. Papers and aged books were neatly arranged on his desk before him. The walls were adorned with shelves displaying a collection of curiosities that Dellen presumed had been purchased in the auction house.

Theodore glanced up from his work, an expression of curiosity mingled with mild irritation crossing his face.

The clerk stammered, "Mr. Cromwell, these are Evelyn Thornbrook and her companions."

The irritation on Mr. Cromwell’s face vanished, “Evelyn Thornbrook, I had wondered if I would be seeing you. You’ve missed the auction, though if I had more time, I would surely have considered contacting you.”

Her voice mildly curious but somehow also threatening, Miss Thornbrook replied, “Oh, and why is that?”

Mr. Cromwell put his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers before him, “You are here about the curious grouping of unforged we recently sold, are you not?”

“Yes, I am. Though I can hardly imagine that you would have called me for reasons of compassion or common decency.”

Mr. Cromwell’s face took on a mien of feigned hurt, “Of course I would have. Your participation in the auction would have driven up the prices, bringing the best compensation to our sellers and, of course, the fullest commission to our auction house. You wound me if you think that I would not honor my fiduciary responsibilities to their fullest extent.”

An exhalation of disgust marked Miss Thornbrook’s opinion of his words. “That is not what I meant. Next, you will justify the sale of children.”

“We do not accept children in our auctions.”

“How noble of you, in any case, I am not here to debate ethics with you, Cromwell. What I want is to know who purchased those unforged.”

“I cannot simply tell you who purchased the unforged. Clients expect a certain degree of anonymity from their time here.”

“What will it cost me to find the names,” Miss Thornbrook said with a sigh.

“Three hundred gold standards.”

If a standard was anything like a sovereign, Dellen thought it sounded rather a lot to see a few pages of a ledger, but Miss Thornbrook had already pulled out a bag and was counting coins.

Mr. Cromwell accepted the coins and counted them with the practiced ease of a man who handled a very great amount of money on a regular basis. “Thank you.” He turned back a few pages in his ledger and turned the book around. “Perhaps this is what you’re looking for.”

The Order of the Red Truth jumped off the page, but Dellen could see other groups who had purchased unforged prisoners, The Iron Fist Society, the Thunderstrike Syndicate, The Aetheric Covenant, and the Society of Illuminated Minds.

“What pleasant groups of people,” Miss Thornbrook murmured, “I can certainly see why you felt no ethical issue with giving any of them helpless unforged to experiment on.”

“I’m glad you understand,” Mr. Cromwell said without a trace of sarcasm or insincerity.

“Does he really think she understands?” Gilgamesh asked, his tone the most confused that Dellen had ever heard from him.

Dellen answered with an uncertain shrug.

“If that completes your business with me this evening?” Mr. Cromwell said, a questioning note in his voice while gesturing at his work.

“Let’s go,” Miss Thornbrook said.

“Thaddeus Valtair,” Dellen said, “Tall man, sharp features, white hair, blue eyes, which group bought him?”

Mr. Cromwell tapped his chin, “White hair, we didn’t take their names, but I seem to recall the gentleman you describe, he was… worked up. I believe you can find him with the Thunderstrike Syndicate, no doubt they liked his passion.”

“Seems odd you going to so much trouble to help Thaddeus,” Gilgamesh mused, “With the zinc forging I can’t imagine that you have ever caused anyone else as much pain, even if he can’t remember it.”

Dellen wondered if that was part of the reason he felt compelled to assist Thaddeus.

“There was another in the group, named Tristan, with an affinity for Steam Aether.”

Mr. Cromwell shook his head, this time speaking in a tone of clear dismissal, “You’re lucky that I remember the one, we certainly weren’t keeping track of their names.”

“Thank you, Theodore,” Miss Thornbrook said, leading them out of the office. “Who is this Thaddeus?” She asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

“One of the most talented and skilled Aetheric Cultivators from Copperopolis, I say this with the caveat that, like every other member of their order, he had not reached First Trinity,” Dellen said.

“Why hadn’t they?” Eliza asked.

“Alloy incompatibility, they knew about iron and copper, but somehow they didn’t know to use silver, and if you try to forge the wrong material, it precipitates in your body as ill-formed little metal lumps that shred you from the inside.”

Finnegan blanched.

“Is there a cure?” Eliza asked.

“No,” Miss Thornbrook said, “It is a particularly unpleasant way to die, every now and again an Aetheric Researcher thinks they’ve found a new material or alloy that can be used to reach a Trinity and they get it wrong,” she shook her head, “It’s an ugly business.”

“Not even of the First Trinity,” she said, turning the subject back to Thaddeus, “Is there any chance that he has an affinity for Pyro Aether? If so, I could bring him up to First Trinity, maybe even Second if he had sufficient control.”

“Can you bring me to Second Trinity?” Eliza asked, sounding eager.

Miss Thornbrook’s reply was gentle, but firm. “As I told you before, not for some months.”

“He has an affinity for Electrical Aether,” Dellen said.

“Pity, still, the Thunderstrike Syndicate is dedicated to combat. Odd that they would be buying an older aetherforged, “How old did you say he was?”

“He told me he had been using Electrical Aether for three hundred and fifty years.”

Miss Thornbrook looked startled, “Three hundred and fifty without reaching First Trinity? I would have expected him to die of old age a century or two earlier. It doesn’t matter. He may well have unusually good control if he has been practicing that long.”

They emerged from the auction house, stepping out into the fresh evening air. The city of Ravenport embraced them once more. This time, Dellen was leaving the building without his wrists manacled together, a distinct improvement over his last visit.

Miss Thornbrook paused for a moment, looking back at the auction house, Dellen couldn’t help but wonder if, despite her earlier calm, she was thinking about sending the entire structure up in flames.

After an uncomfortable thirty seconds, Miss Thornbrook spoke, “Unless they’ve moved, I know the way to the syndicate.” So saying, she led them to the streets, past a pub with lights dancing in the windows and aromas reminding Dellen that it had been hours since his last meal.

Finnegan pulled up next to him, “What are we going to do if we find Thaddeus Valtair?”