“What are we going to do if we find Thaddeus?”

“Yes,” Finnegan replied.

“I’m also interested in this,” Gilgamesh said.

“That’s going to depend on Thaddeus,” Dellen said, “It’s unlikely, but he might surprise me by being happy where he is.”

Miss Thornbrook interrupted, apparently able to hear their quiet conversation, “He might be, though I cannot believe that all of the unforged sold are happy where they are. The Order of the Red Truth is particularly unpleasant, they have this odd approach to near silence and wear masks. I find it dehumanizing.”

Dellen nodded his agreement quietly, “What about the other groups?”

“I’m not as familiar with them, I haven’t been in this city in… over a century. A lot can change in even that relatively short time.”

Eliza choked aloud at a century being referred to as a short period of time. Something in Dellen stirred, he felt like he remembered viewing time the same way, once.

“Pardon my ignorance,” he said, “I don’t know the etiquette around asking about Trinities, individual capabilities, or even age. It’s not something we had to worry about in Copperopolis.”

Miss Thornbrook let out a thinking hum, “It varies from city to city, and group to group, though age is a safe subject, Trinities can be… touchy, especially for those who have found themselves stuck or stalled. As for capability, well, for those of us who have scaled to the rarefied echelons… not many of us feel the need to explain anything. For those who have yet to meet with the success that they’re looking for, it can again be touchy.”

Dellen reflected that he had not learned much from her answer except perhaps from her very unwillingness to commit to any one guideline. “Would there be many of your Trinity in Ravenport?”

“A handful, at most,” Miss Thornbrook said.

‘At most,’ meaning it was possible that there was not a single Aetherforged in the city who had climbed to her Trinity. Dellen felt better about their chances of making progress.

“Though that doesn’t mean I can do whatever I want, I have long frowned at my peers who wade through the lower Trinities.”

Dellen sighed, Miss Thornbrook may have melted through locks and lightly bullied a clerk, but she would not be solving all of his problems.

“Come along, we’ve almost reached the Thunderstrike Syndicate.”

Dellen glanced at the darkening sky, showing the hour to be past dinner, and wondered if that would affect their welcome. In the world of Ironclad Boxing, not much had happened before the later hours of the day, for all he knew, the Thunderstrike Syndicate might only just be waking up.

Crashing rumbles made themselves known over the noises of the city. Dellen frowned, it sounded like… low thunder.

“What is that?” He and Gilgamesh asked at the same time.

“That is the Thunderstrike Syndicate,” Miss Thornbrook said.

“I don’t understand,” Finnegan said.

“It’s better to see it.”

The group walked in silence for another few minutes, with the thunder growing louder.

They came to the end of an alley, and there was a… building set back from the street. Dellen frowned, trying to understand what he was seeing, the street ended and there was broken stone and baked dirt, then there was glass. Walls of glass. The building rose before them, three stories made entirely of shimmering glass. The setting sun cast vibrant hues across the translucent surface.

Bolts of crackling energy leaped and danced around the building. Dellen realized that his first impression had been incorrect, the walls were not solely glass, there were metal poles, perhaps spikes, rising up and around the building, facing straight up, or jutting at odd angles. Lightning sparked from the ends of the metal, sometimes crackling in place and fading away, other times jumping from tip to tip in a chaotic weave or crashing into the ground.

A glance at the ground told him that while the lightning was contained close to the building, at present. It sometimes expressed its fury further away to the cracked and baked dirt by their feet.

“We’re going in there?” Eliza asked, her voice high and alarmed.

Dellen felt almost drawn forward by the hum of Electrical Aether in the air.

“Welcome to the Thunderstrike Syndicate,” Miss Thornbrook said.

The weaving bolts of Aether entranced Dellen, he stopped and stared, watching them strobe across the building.

“It’s beautiful,” Finnegan said.

Eliza snorted, “Not the description that came to my mind, but,” she stopped to smile, “I will have to write about it, though I don’t know if my editors or my readers will believe me. What’s the purpose of this display?”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“Extravagance, more than anything else, The Thunderstrike Syndicate heavily favours Electrical Aether,” Miss Thornbrook nodded at the lightning, “As I’m sure you guessed. If you look at the glass you can see how tall the building is, but almost everything takes place underground.”

“How do they sustain the display?” Dellen asked.

“Those are wasteful Aetherifiers, much like the chair in Isabella’s office, just designed to leak, in a city or region with lower Aether density the display would be insignificant. If the Aether was faint enough you might just see the occasional spark.” Her words were interrupted by a particularly loud clap of thunder, “Here you get this. I wouldn’t recommend approaching in the rain.”

“How do we approach now?” Eliza asked, “This doesn’t look safe.”

“He should be able to keep the lightning off of us,” Miss Thornbrook said, pointing at Dellen.

“Really?” Finnegan said, eyebrows up, gaze darting between Dellen and the dancing electricity.

Dellen felt unsure, it had been all he could manage to keep one bolt from the Phoenix’s Flight, and he still had the scars to prove it, this was an array of unpredictable bolts.

“You’ll do fine,” Miss Thornbrook said, “Now do keep up.” She strode towards the dancing Aether without a backward glance. Dellen lengthened his stride to catch her.

“She’s putting a lot of faith in you,” Gilgamesh said. Dellen noticed that he too, was clustering in closer than usual.

“Don’t tempt fate,” Miss Thornbrook said, “Stand close and make it easier for him.”

Finnegan and Eliza pushed closer, shoulders brushing against his.

They walked toward the Thunderstrike Syndicate, and the walls stretched higher, the full extent of their three stories growing apparent as they got closer. Dellen’s attention was perhaps half on the walls, but mostly on the crackling Aether before them. This close, he could smell the change in the air, the odd scent that accompanied the discharge of lightning, here, it was stronger than he had experienced, even after his forging on the ship or from Tiberius’s lightning bolt.

“What’s that smell?” Finnegan asked.

“If you smell that, and you aren’t close to anyone you trust with an affinity with Electrical Aether, run. Run and find cover,” Miss Thornbrook said.

A bolt flew right at them, Dellen’s Spark Core spun, and Electrical Aether flowed down his arm. He held up his hand, and the bolt stopped a few feet short of them, and bounced at a ninety-degree angle, crackling into the ground.

Finnegan and Eliza both flinched away from the violence.

Dellen frowned, “Those are… weaker than I expected.”

Another bolt struck at them, and Dellen deflected it.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Eliza said, clutching his arm, making it clear that she was not comfortable with their surroundings. “The things I do for a story,” she muttered to herself.

Several bolts later, they crossed the threshold of an open glass portal. Dellen spared a moment to wonder why there wasn’t a door, but glass hinges seemed like they would break, and anything else would ruin the presentation.

“Who are you?” A curious voice asked.

Dellen spun. There was a very short woman standing nearby who had most certainly not been standing there a moment earlier.

“Evelyn Thornbrook,” her voice was, if anything, firmer than when she had spoken at the auction house.

The short woman’s features wrinkled, “Is that name supposed to mean anything to me?” She shook her head, “Doesn’t matter. Was it you, or you who kept the bolts off?” She asked, pointing at Dellen and Miss Thornbrook, “I’m guessing you,” she said to Dellen, “Considering the way both of them are still plastered to your shoulders. It’s safe in here by the way.”

Eliza and Finnegan both took a half step away from him but stayed much closer than they would have under other circumstances.

“It was me, who are we speaking to?”

“Cordelia Whitlock,” the woman said with an inclination of her head.

Dellen felt no subtle kinship with her. He wondered what affinity she possessed, Terra perhaps, to explain her sudden appearance.

“Now, why are you here, uninvited and unannounced? We don’t exactly encourage visitors.”

“I’m looking for Thaddeus,” Dellen said.

Miss Thornbrook interrupted him, “We’re looking for Thaddeus.”

Cordelia split her attention between the two of them, “Thaddeus,” she chuckled, “Interesting fellow. We’ve never met anyone like him before. Still, the answer is no. I have to ask you to leave.”

“No,” Miss Thornbrook said with a cheerful smile.

Cordelia’s pleasant facade fell away. Shadows spread from her feet, creeping up her sides and across the room. “I have to ask you to leave,” she said again, her voice deeper and threatening, her figure lost in the shadows, just half of her face still visible.

Miss Thornbrook snapped her fingers, and a small, concentrated ball of fire appeared above her left index finger. It flared with a bright light that beat back the shadows. “I have nothing but the utmost respect for you and any of your umbral colleagues, but I do not appreciate being bullied, though it appears that this is a language that you speak.”

The shadows around Cordelia flickered, their edges wobbling in a way that Dellen remembered from his past, shadows around a campfire. Cordelia frowned, he could see her shadows trying, and failing to spread, before they abruptly stopped and retracted.

“Are you ready for a civilized conversation?”

Cordelia frowned at Miss Thornbrook. “Wait here.”

The condensed ball of intense flame winked out, and between one blink and the next, Cordelia vanished.

“What was that?” Eliza asked.

“Umbral Affinity,” Miss Thornbrook said carelessly, “Relatively uncommon here, fascinating use cases.”

“Use cases?” Finnegan asked.

A bolt landed just outside the glass, and a blast of thunder tore through the room, everyone except Miss Thornbrook and Gilgamesh flinched.

“Applications for their Aether, it can be used for transportation at the lower Trinities in the way that Electrical and Pyro cannot, not to mention they excel at stealth. So much of what most Aetherforged are capable of draws the eye.”

A wave of shadow swept across a corner of the room. When it passed, Cordelia was back with company, a slightly taller woman accompanied her. Like Dellen, she had fern-shaped scars on her skin, but not as many and very few on her face.

“Cordelia says you want to see Thaddeus,” her eyes swept up and down the four of them, settling on Miss Thornbrook, Dellen assumed due to her impressive steelskin. “Why do you want to see one of our newest recruits?”

“Not a recruit, an acquisition,” Miss Thornbrook said, “It’s an important distinction.”

“He’s a recruit.”

“We’d like to see him.”

“Recruits are not allowed guests,” the taller woman said.

“So he is an acquisition,” Miss Thornbrook said in an agreeable tone.

The slightly taller woman frowned at Miss Thornbrook, “Who are you?”

“As I told your colleague, my name is Evelyn Thornbrook. I am here to see your newest acquisition, Thaddeus.” Dellen was amazed at the way that she continued to sound polite and not irritated.

“That is impossible.”

Miss Thornbrook leaned forward, “I’m asking you to make it possible.”

Ball lightning crackled into existence between the woman’s hands, “You don’t seem to understand. You are not welcome here. I advise that you leave.”