Dellen had converted a warehouse owned by Northcote Industries into a forging center. The steady stream of interested citizens was helping them whittle away at the surplus of iron ingots, however, it would take weeks at their current pace to make a dent that was visible anywhere other than an accountant’s ledger.
He stood in the warehouse, watching people wait in line with Gilgamesh. “How does it feel?” Gilgamesh asked, “Over five thousand people partially forged.”
“The key word being ‘partially.’ They have iron running through them, so they’re not ‘food’ anymore, but they have no talent with their Aether. I feel almost like I’m handing knives to children to make sure they’re safe, but not telling them where the blades are.”
“You are a confirmed pessimist. Give it a few months, there will be almost no unforged left in the city, and you can start teaching the citizens how to use their Aether, even bring people up to First Trinity. What about you, though? When are you bringing yourself up to Third Trinity?”
“I’m not sure, I need to find the time.”
“Do it sooner rather than later, we still don’t know what the rhyme or reason is behind your time loops, but I’m sure that it doesn’t involve you staying where you are like an average Second Trinity mediocrity.”
“Mediocrity?” Dellen asked, giving Gilgamesh a mildly affronted look, “I’m all but certain that it is atypical for Second Trinities of any affinity to consistently compete with Third Trinity Aetherforged and win.”
“And win? You don’t even always survive. Without your unfair advantage, your body would have been dumped and left to rot long ago. Well,” he said, considering his words, “Not long, we haven’t been here a long time when you consider linear time, but I hope you take my meaning.”
“How long have I been back in linear time?”
“Around nineteen days.”
In nineteen days, he had stopped the city’s gears, left the city, brought himself to First Trinity, visited Evergale, brought himself to Second Trinity, flown to Ravenport, infiltrated the Order of the Red Truth, and brought Miss Thornbrook back to Copperopolis, and was now part of a concerted effort to stop the populace from being used as crafting resources. “It’s been an eventful nineteen days.”
“Yes, it has. For anyone else, I’d say they have been too eventful, but what happens if someone High Trinity comes to Copperopolis now? When I first met you in the Refinery you were an Aetherforged that even Miss Thornbrook would step carefully around.”
“It probably took me decades, if not longer, to be what I was, who I was, I’m not going to replicate that in a few weeks or even a few months.”
“For now, we rely on Miss Thornbrook, and hope for the best.”
“I don’t like using hope as a plan,” Gilgamesh said.
“What would you have me do?”
“Well, I think you need to open a school, or even just another branch of the Aetherweave Institute.”
“A school? Me?” Dellen said, not quite processing what Gilgamesh was telling him.
“Why not? You’re a noble and currently one of the most famous nobles in the city, you know more about Aether than any other citizen, and Northcote Industries has been looking for a new revenue source.”
Dellen hummed to himself, “We couldn’t call a school Northcote Industries.”
“No, but you could call it The Northcote Institute.”
“I’m not sure about this.”
“Just think it over.”
“Lord Northcote!” Came a familiar voice.
Dellen turned, “Afternoon, Finnegan, you can call me Dellen, you know.”
“Thank you, but not when I’m yelling your name from a distance. I don’t think that would be appropriate.” He was being polite, but he looked harried.
Dellen shrugged in agreement, he would not yell ‘Victoria’ from a distance to get Lady Lockridge’s attention. “Did you need assistance with something today?”
Words coming out quickly, Finnegan said, “There’s a fight.”
Creases appeared on Dellen’s forehead. “And?”
“You’re one of the only people in the city that I know that’s strong enough to calm everything down.”
“You realize that you are First Trinity?”
Finnegan looked nervous, “Yes… but I’m not a noble, no one is going to listen to me.”
“Do you think Miss Thornbrook is a noble? Everyone is listening to her.”
Finnegan still looked unsure, “I’d feel a lot better if you could just come with me.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Kinematic Aether is well suited to combat, trust me, I know, I’ve participated in quite a few matches against Kinematic Aether, but if it will ease your mind, I’ll come.” Dellen looked around his warehouse, it seemed that everything was in order. Stefan was near the Electrical Aether forging station. At Dellen’s insistence, Stefan had been brought all the way up to First Trinity, he could not have his warehouse filled with all of these new Aetherforged without trusted staff who could topple any problems that might crop up.
“It might be better if we ran,” so saying, Finnegan broke into a run. He led them across the cog, and then, not hesitating at the edge of the cog, made a kinematic assisted jump that sent him soaring across to the neighboring cog. Dellen followed a step behind him, Electrical Aether surging out of his Spark Core. Grabbing Gilgamesh, he spun a magnetic field into existence and pushed it through the bottom of his boots, and against the cog beneath, following Finnegan over. Near the crest of his jump, he created a new magnetic field, one aimed at the surface of the coming cog, pulling him further before he dipped too low. What he did not want was to slam into the side of the cog.
Dellen shot over the edge a second after Finnegan had safely landed. Cobblestones coming up fast promised to break his legs on impact. With a hurried pulse of Aether, Dellen reversed the direction of the field, and felt his fall slow. All of a sudden, he was pushing down through air that felt thick, like straining against a thick cotton blanket. His boots still hit the ground hard, but manageably so.
Finnegan heard him, glanced back, nodded, and kept running. “The Anvil,” he called back.
Dellen had already assumed they were running to the Artificer’s Anvil. He had not been there again since he had found Finnegan and invited him on the voyage to Evergale, but he knew its home cog had stopped spinning next to the same cog that was home to the warehouse he had converted to a forging center. His thoughts drifted, maybe there was something to Gilgamesh’s idea of starting a school.
He shook his head to clear the thoughts away like errant cobwebs, he would have time to think on it later. Feet slapping on the cobblestones he followed after Finnegan, not quite keeping up with him. Dellen might have been a higher Trinity, but Finnegan was making full use of his Kinematic Aether.
The Artificer’s Anvil was just as Dellen remembered it, a large, dilapidated building, its exterior covered in various metal parts. The front door was wide open, revealing a chaotic interior filled with piles of mechanical debris. Absent was the previously ever-present sound of hammering and craftsmen at work.
Finnegan ran through the door and then stopped.
There was an angry confrontation still taking place, Dellen could see that it had not escalated to being a fight, yet, but that it wasn’t far off. Two craftsmen, both bigger than Dellen, both with newly-forged steelskin, screamed insults at each other, with just a table between them, “She was my client, and you poached her, you no talent, worthless thief.”
“Maybe if you did good work, your clients wouldn’t come to me.”
Spit flew from both men’s mouths. Sparks flickered on one set of fists, and fire on another. Fitfully fading in and out of existence. They were angry, and they had some Aether control, not uncommon for craftsmen, but problematic.
Dellen burst between them and spread the fingers of his hands, before using a surge of Electrical Aether to fill both palms with crackling balls of lighting. “Both of you stop this now!” He said, words coming out fiercely but at nowhere near the volume either of the men had been using.
“That’s Lord Northcote,” he heard from around the shop. His name echoed on a dozen lips. Both men looked abashed and worried.
“Now, what is this all about?” Dellen asked.
“He stole my client,” one of the men said, looking abashed.
“It can be hard when you lose a source of income,” Dellen said, “I do my best to ensure the livelihoods of all who work for Northcote Industries.”
The aggressor looked a little less worried than before.
“And you,” Dellen continued, looking at the ‘poacher,’ “I don’t know your story, but I can understand always trying to do a little better. That’s a central tenet of Aetherforging.”
Both men looked relieved, though their eyes drifted between Dellen’s face and the crackling ball lightning in his hands. “None of my understanding extends to using Aether to settle disputes. When I ran in here, both of you were allowing uncontrolled Aether to flicker over your knuckles. Such base interactions are not why I brought the gift of forging back to Copperopolis.”
He raised his voice, and did his best to ensure that all in the room could hear him, “Do all of you understand what being Aetherforged means? Do you understand that you will age more slowly, you will sicken less often, and once you learn to wield your Aether, you will be capable of impressive feats of wonder?” He dispelled the ball lightning in his hands, and pushed off from the ground, letting his magnetic fields hold him up, even as tools scattered from benches.
“Some of you will be able to follow in my path, and escape the ground, some of you will be like Finnegan here, capable of unparalleled feats of movement and speed, others of you will draw fire from the air, a talent I have to assume that will see incredible application in this very room.”
“What about Steam Aether?” Called a voice from the crowd.
“Have you seen the steam flight suits used by the Aetheric Cultivators? Those with steam may inherit the sky. I don’t know, it’s all too soon, however, what I do know is that I don’t want to hear about citizens attacking each other, hurting each other, even killing each other, with gifts that I helped to deliver to them. That is not the legacy that I want to leave our city.”
“You sound like a pretentious idiot,” Gilgamesh said.
Dellen ignored him and, still floating, addressed the two men, “Can I trust you not to begin this fight anew when I leave?”
“Yes, Lord Northcote,” they said in turn.
Dellen let his feet settle onto the ground. “Lord Northcote?” Finnegan said.
Suppressing another sigh, “Yes, Finnegan?”
“I’ve heard a lot of people ask if there’s going to be more to the forging.”
Dellen gestured with his hand for him to continue.
“It’s just that, I know how to use my Aether, and some of the artisans at the anvil do as well, though not as well, but, a lot of people, well, don’t. Most people who are Aetherforged now hadn’t ever touched their Aether before three days ago. How are they going to learn how to use their Aether when people like Miss Thornbrook are so busy forging others?”
Gilgamesh spoke with false sincerity, “What a fantastic idea, If only there was a place people could go to learn how to use their Aether. I wish I had thought of something like that.”
Dellen shot him an irate look before focusing on Finnegan, “You mean like a school?”
“Anything,” Finnegan drew closer, and lowered his voice, “Especially if trouble is coming, it would be better if there were more people who could use their Aether. Even at First Trinity, I feel helpless all the time.”
“For what it’s worth, you could have broken up that fight just fine on your own, though it probably would have been harder without something as flashy as lightning to fall back on.” Dellen acknowledged.
Finnegan nodded, but didn’t let Dellen distract him from his central point, “The forging is an amazing first step, I can’t believe the change I see in the city, walking around seeing steelskin almost common on the streets, but we need more, this isn’t enough.”
“I will look into the feasibility of opening a school.”