“What are we doing here?” Gilgamesh said.

Dellen looked up. He’d been reading for several hours, and cracked a yawn. He felt mentally exhausted. “Earning goodwill, perhaps? Certainly, I’m learning. There are details here that I had intuited but could not have articulated. There’s value in this.”

“You need to forge the rest of your body; instead, you are sitting in a library.”

“Do you not have any experience with waiting for gratification?” Dellen asked. “It took me a non-trivial amount of effort to impress Tristan; let me read here while we wait for that to bear fruit.”

The library door opened as it had twice before since Dellen had sat down. This time it was Tristan, accompanied by Aurelia and another man Dellen hadn’t seen before. An aura of Electrical Aether hummed off of the man, just barely tangible to Dellen’s senses. Every visible inch of his body was steelskin, albeit the same subtle sort of steelskin he now bore on his own hands.

Somehow Dellen knew that this man was aetherforged from head to toe, but he wasn’t sure how he knew.

“You.” The man said. “Northcote. How did you forge yourself?”

This is what he’d been waiting for. “Innate talent,” Dellen said.

“My name is Thaddeus Valtair, and I have been cultivating Aetheric Energy for three hundred and fifty years; you will tell me the truth or face the consequences.” He repeated his question, words dropping in the air like stones falling from the sky. “How did you forge yourself?”

Dellen marshaled his features into as serious an aspect as he could muster. “I asked Tristan to keep increasing the flow until I could feel it as more than a vague tickle, then I looked inwards, sensed the energy in my pathways, and did my best to redirect it when it threatened to spill out.” Dellen placed a fingertip on the burns at his throat. “I was less than perfectly successful in this.”

“Less than perfectly successful?” Thaddeus said. “Less than perfectly successful! Tristan told me what you asked to be put through; you should be a man-shaped lump of charcoal accentuated by those decorative buttons on your damned coat.”

Thaddeus stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and Dellen to less than a foot. “I can feel the Electrical Aether on you. It’s weak. Almost absent. There are tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of citizens walking around in the city below with Aether signatures like your own, just like your own. I am all but certain that if any one of them had sat in that chair and gone through what you did, that we would be burying what was left of them this afternoon.

“Do you think I cheated somehow?” Dellen said.

Thaddeus stepped back and ran his eyes up and down, taking Dellen’s measure. “No, you didn’t cheat. A test like that cannot be faked, and those burns on your throat are fresh sure enough. You are either the luckiest person I’ve ever heard of, or,” Thaddeus continued, “Perhaps you read of a lost technique.” He nodded, “Yes, that is the most likely explanation. You read something, something that prepared you; then you were damned fool enough to try it, blind, and lucky enough to succeed.” He gave a disgusted snort. “Half of the young here are going to want to copy you, and they will burn for your hubris.”

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“I’m not going to tell anyone to copy me,” Dellen said.

“That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard today. What is it that you want from us then?” Thaddeus said.

“I want the same thing that you want,” Dellen said. “I want to learn how to cultivate and use Electrical Aether.”

“You want the same thing that I want,” Thaddeus said. “What an incredible ego you have on you. Still, I suppose every cultivator needs a bit of hubris to progress.” He sniffed and squinted at Dellen. “What are you reading there?”

Dellen held up his book. “Master Corthos assigned this to me, ‘The Rudiments of Handling Aetheric Flow.’ There are some interesting details I was unaware of.”

“There are interesting details in ‘The Rudiments of Handling Aetheric Flow,’ and yet you’ve already managed to forge yourself.” Thaddeus exhaled. “I’m going to take you on as a disciple. That might be the only way to stop you from killing yourself.”

Dellen blinked. He had not expected this turn of events. “May I ask why?”

“I approve of your curiosity and of your drive to explore the boundaries of Aether, however, without proper guidance and understanding of your actions, your experiments could very well lead to your demise.”

“He’s not wrong; I think I saw your head explode before one reset.” Gilgamesh piped in. “Maybe it was just your eyes though.”

Thaddeus stepped closer to Dellen again. “As my disciple, I will instruct you in the ways of The Aetheric Cultivators, teach you how to control and harness Electrical Aether, safely, and help you develop your potential.

Dellen hesitated. “I’m not sure that I can enter into this arrangement; I’m the head of House Northcote, I have an estate to run and business interests to manage. It seems to me that I am not suited to a master and disciple relationship.”

“Foolish boy, what could be more important than your survival?”

“Would you leave The Aetheric Cultivators to pursue a promising opportunity, or would you cleave to your loyalty to this order?”

“An interesting parallel,” Thaddeus said. “I do not approve of your decision, but I do understand it.”

“I do still seek an affiliation with your order,” Dellen said.

Thaddeus sighed. “Promising or not, you don’t sound like a good fit. We expect dedication from our members, and it sounds like you will never put the order first.” He looked at Tristan and Aurelia. “See, mister, no,” he paused, “Lord Northcote out.”

“Wait,” Dellen said.

Thaddeus stopped and returned his gaze to Dellen. “Yes?”

“Do you have any suggestions on basic ways that I can try to forge my body further, or prepare myself to improve?”

The initial response was a set of narrowed eyes. “Combat,” Thaddeus said at last. “It’s about improving yourself. Sparring and true combat are excellent ways to push yourself to the limit and discover insights about yourself.’

“Thank you.”

His gaze returned to Dellen. “Try not to get yourself killed.”

“I cannot begin to express how likely you are to disappoint him.” Said Gilgamesh.

Dellen put the book on the table and walked out of the room with Tristan and Aurelia. They took him on a shorter path back to the dock, where he was met by a scrappier carriage. A small ship that had seen better days. Covered in once vibrant and now chipped paint, there was naked metal and rust over its hull, and the windows it had were clouded with grime. The ship left much to be desired, but short on options, Dellen chose to board.

The driver, an older woman, greeted Dellen with a toothy grin. “Ah, a rich customer.” Dellen made a mental note to dress down for future forays around the city. “Step right in, sir. She may not look like much, but she’ll get you where you need to go.”

Dellen nodded and stepped into the passenger compartment; it was tight even before Gilgamesh floated in, taking up half of the headspace.

“Where to?”

“I’d like to see a boxing match.”