Practicing saturating my body with mana throughout the day is harder than I expected. If I lose focus, the mana dissipates into the air. Undaunted, I vow to keep trying when I have free time. For now, my main focus is on a new commission. Quite a few students want to buy glass orbs from me after the demonstration in class, but I’ve given my study group priority.
Manipulating mana is tough, but the glass orbs aren’t as dangerous for solo practice as the complex scripts Ezio uses. Melina and I offered to make mana variants of my heat-resistant glass orbs, using simpler versions of Ezio’s puzzles. Everyone is enthusiastic about it, even Zviad—in his own prickly way, of course. He grumbles about joining us at the hot shop for the day, but I want to make sure we create the training tools to everyone’s exact specifications. Not everyone might want an orb, although that’s certainly the easiest shape to create.
With Ezio’s help, we should even be able to create a pair of glass orbs keyed to unique lightning puzzles for Teuria. I didn’t know how to get around the compatibility issues at first, but Ezio is a genius at using synthetic aspects. He assures me that the patterns he provided will work with her magic.
Since I don’t know how all of their Skills function, only Melina, Teuria, and I will have custom fit pieces. For the rest, generic mana-manipulation training aids will have to do. I think I’m ready to go. All that’s left is to wait for the team to show up.
Right on cue, the doorbell chimes.
“Welcome to the Silaraon Glass Works!” I say, waving at the study group as they march into the shop, a mix of skepticism and curiosity plain on their faces.
Zviad looks around more critically than the others. He sniffs. “This is where you work?”
I push down a flash of irritation at Zviad’s entitled attitude. “Yes. Been here for the last decade and a half, since my father passed. He was a [Glassworker], too.”
His assessing gaze continues to rove the workshop. “It’s clean. Brighter than I expected. Someone runs a tight operation.”
“Yeah. Ember’s ex-Army,” I brag.
Zviad draws himself up. His face grows cold, like someone activated a switch and turned off his friendliness enchantment. “Oh. A short-timer, huh?”
“Honorably discharged. She and I do commission work for Fort Amyntas. She gives the [Soldiers] a big discount and always gives them priority. Don’t make it sound like she betrayed the Royal Army or something,” I say hotly.
“You don’t know anything about Army life,” Zviad scoffs. “She probably got a rare Class in the line of duty and then ran off as soon as her term was up.”
Ember glides up just then. She regards Zviad distastefully, like a [Cleaner] who just saw a cockroach run across his pristine floors. “That’s exactly what happened. Every day, I find yet another reason to reinforce the wisdom of that decision.”
“Typical Northerner,” Zviad says, cutting her down to size with an imperious glare. “You all act like you’re justified. Ungrateful is all it is. You’ll talk big to a young Army brat, but I’ll bet if my father walked through the door, you’d drop to your knees and beg.”
“Nuri, I think I liked it better when you were in class,” Ember says evenly. “Whatever you came here to do, get it done quickly. Best that you’re on your way.”
I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to get involved in a spat between Ember and—well, Ember and anyone. She’s the most terrifying person I know. Watching her butcher the Shadow Jaguars with ease last year left a big impression on me.
“Right this way,” I announce with confidence. “I’m at workbench number one today. We’ll get you sorted as quickly as we can. Here, wear these in the hot shop.”
I pass out sturdy leather aprons and goggles from the lampworking stations. While they likely aren’t in danger from sodium flares, I don’t want to risk anyone getting injured because I was careless. My study group takes them without complaint. Even Zviad puts them on with an air of unexpected gravity when I explain the potential risk to the eyes. If he’s learned anything from the Army, I suppose it’s how to take armor seriously.
“Everyone, say hello to my buddy Lionel. He’s going to assist me today to speed things up. Teamwork is always the way to go in the hot shop. Working with Melina is her twin sister, Avelina. Don’t get too close; she’s liable to burn you to a crisp if you look at her the wrong way.”
Avelina shoots me a glare, her eyes half-lidded by her painted eyelids. A menacing red flame dances across the back of her knuckles, but she flips her hand over and opens her fist, transforming the sinister fires into a soft white, welcoming glow. “Hi! I’m Ava! Don’t mind Nuri. He likes to be dramatic.”
“That makes two of us,” I say.
“You’re sisters?” Kuuper asks, staring between Avelina and Melina. “You don’t look much alike. I had no idea that two crafters in the same shop could have such different Skills, too. Time and fire don’t seem related at all.”
“Naftalan, unless I miss my mark,” Zviad interjects. “Or descendants from someone who hopped borders. The fire-sister bears their telltale look. I’ve never seen albinism in them before, but that explains why they look different and Melina is so pale, while her twin is more typical.”
Something about Zviad’s superior tone rubs me the wrong way, but I can’t put my finger on why it bothers me. Technically, he’s correct. So why does his analysis sound so incredibly insulting coming from him?
Maybe it’s because he called both Avelina and Ember “typical,” as though they aren’t individuals. They’re just the worst of their people; he’s weighed them and found them wanting. At least he didn’t call them gutter-rats, like some people who hate Naftali.
Neighboring us to the Southeast, Naftali’s influence here in the borderlands is far more pronounced than it is in the capital. Some people think they’re too meddlesome, getting involved in Densmore politics, but I tend to stay out of those discussions. I don’t know enough to offer a perspective that’s useful.
I clap twice. “Let’s get started with our work for the day. Zviad and Kuuper, you’ll be with me. Teuira and Eliakim, go to workbench two with Mel. Show of hands: who wants an orb?”
Everyone but Zviad raises a hand. Of course he wants something unique and special. It seems inevitable at this point that he’s the problem in every situation.
“Zviad! Which shape do you want?” I ask, pasting a warm smile on my face. He’s paying for the study aid, after all, so technically he’s a customer, although I’m starting to dislike his type of technicality.
“The golden eagle is our family’s crest.”
“Oh, I love making glass animals,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. I groan internally, since I already quoted the price of today’s creation. A simple orb that copies the paper patterns is not too difficult, but making a bird is more time-consuming. I should really charge more.
“What’s the benefit of using these instead of the pattern on the paper?” Kuuper asks. He prods the papers I got from Ezio. “Seems like a lot of work. Not cheap, either.”
“Cost is no object if they work,” Zviad snaps. He crosses his arms and stares at Kuuper with a skeptical expression. “Of course, their efficiency is still up for debate.”
At least he’s equally unpleasant to everyone, I remind myself. I pick up the papers and give Kuuper a strained smile. “The problem is that these papers are one-time use. Once you’ve saturated them with mana, they won’t help you continue training. My orbs are bi-directional, so you can practice moving the mana from one to the other, and then back the other way. They’ll need refilling eventually, if you leak a lot of excess energy, but you can use them for a long time compared with the paper varieties.”
“Oh. That does sound useful,” Kuuper says. He steps back, shy again now that he’s worked up the courage to ask his single question for the morning. It didn’t help that Zviad made fun of him for questioning the price.
“Glad you think so. The orb is the cheapest variety, but it shouldn’t be less performative. Creating a non-standard shape requires more time and effort, which is why they’re more costly. I trust my discerning client will appreciate the increased quality.”
“Naturally,” Zviad says, nodding fractionally at me. He doesn’t mention the extra money. That’s probably considered uncultured. Only peasants like me would care about that.
I grin. Works for me.
“First step, we visit the furnace,” I say, leading my little group over as I narrate what I’m doing. “Don’t touch anything. I’ll use the blowpipe to pick up a gather of glass. See how it’s got good elasticity? I can tell by touch that it’s hot and ready to work, although my heat-related Skill also confirms that it’s up to temperature.”
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“Does the tour also cost extra?” Lionel quips. “C’mon, Nuri. I don’t think any of them are here to become [Glassworkers]. Except for maybe this one. He looks like he’s got the exacting nature necessary to make a dozen identical bowls.”
Zviad looks scandalized that Lionel is pointing at him, which makes me grin at my friend. Lionel always knows how to stir the pot. He’s got a real talent for sniffing out trouble.
I bring the glass back to my workbench and rest the blowpipe across the marver. I spin it a bit more slowly than usual so that they can see what I’m doing, and I continue explaining how shaping glass works. I blow through the hose attached to the blowpipe to inflate the ball of glass at the end of the pipe, turning as the bubble of air within the glass expands.
Lionel brings over a water-drenched block of wood with a bowl scooped out of it. Holding it by the handle, he cups the glass as I turn the pipe. “This ensures a perfect sphere. We can do it via Skill, but that’s a waste if you ask me. Why spend all that mana ranking up a Skill that you can replicate with a little bit of practice? Better to do it by hand and find other ways to improve with magic.”
“Now who’s the tour-guide?” I tease Lionel. “But you bring up a good point. Ranking up a Skill takes a lot of time. Theoretically, the mana control you develop through customizations and Skill modification will transfer, but as Ezio mentioned the other day: at what cost? There’s no point trying to earn a Skill that you can replicate on your own if the alternative is something that you can only do with a Skill.”
“How do you get the paper into the glass? The ball looks solid. Plus it’s so hot! Won’t it burn up?” Kuuper asks, leaning forward from his spot in the background to watch with interest. Maybe I was uncharitable when I assumed that he was too shy to speak up again today.
“Great questions, Kuuper. We’ll eventually open up the ball so that we can work on the hollow interior. We’ll use a blob of hot glass to attach a punty to the other end when the shape is complete. Then we break the connection to the blow pipe and use the punty to transfer it to the kiln to anneal. Well, with Melina’s help, we’ll bypass the kiln entirely. She has amazing Skills for annealing. We’ll weaken the connection at the punty and break the glass free again, then I’ll use my [Heat Manipulation] to re-melt the rough glass and smooth it out with a wet cloth.”
Kuuper frowns, concentrating on my words. “Sounds complicated. Why do you need so many transfers?”
I retrieve a pair of jacks and shears with a sharp point, preparing to cut open the glass to demonstrate how to get to the inside. “We have to close the hole through which we’re blowing air, not to mention reshape each side to smooth the globe. To your other question: you’re correct, the paper will burn if I simply try to affix it to the glass. But patterns can be transferred even if the paper burns away. Watch this!”
I pierce a hole in the globe on the opposite side of the blow pipe, wedge the sharp end of my jacks into the hole, and pry it open. With a bit of turning and pulling, I widen the hole, giving me access to the hollow glass.
“If I were creating a paperweight, or trying to show off intricate shapes inside the ball, then I would have started with lampworking. That’s what Avelina specializes in, although she calls it flameworking, because she’s, uhh, special.”
“I heard that!”
I wink at my audience. “I’m only teasing her because I envy her talent. Working with the small torches and sculpting glass into tiny, delicate shapes is difficult for me. I’m better at larger, more geometric work.”
“Basically, Nuri is just a worker drone. I’m an amazing artist,” Avelina says in a singsong voice.
I ignore my friend’s teasing and continue with the demonstration. “For today’s project, though, I’m going to insert the practice paper directly into the center of the glass globe. With some mana manipulation, I can imprint the pattern before the paper itself burns away. We can use the same technique to put text or images on glass. Paint or ink will leave a mark that gets covered up with a thin layer of glass.”
Using my [Heat Manipulation] to avoid burns, I tuck the first piece of paper into the glass, then bring it back to the glory hole to reheat the glass. Normally, I’d just use my Skill to change the temperature, but I don’t want to run out of mana before I’m done with everyone’s pieces. We still have a date with the Iron Lunk after this, so I need to conserve my mana.
The hot, molten glass burns away the paper in an instant, leaving behind the far more resilient traces of mana-conductive ink. They’re surprisingly sturdy; during my test run when I was preparing for today’s commission work, I found that it took hours of prolonged exposure to melt away the mana-treated ink itself.
I gesture for Lionel to bring me a new gather of glass, and I pour the glowing, viscous glass into the center of the ball I’m working on currently. The molten glass flows into the gaps, filling in the shape. It seeps into the crevices, surrounding the mana traces, and reinforces the structure far better than paper can.
“This is harder to use than the paper, from what I understand, but it’s stronger and can withstand multiple attempts. Technically, you could use a single orb by itself, but I asked Ezio for paired puzzles so that you can seamlessly go backward or forward between matched orbs.”
I raise my voice a little so that the other workers can hear me over the din of the fire and carts rattling around. “Mel, I’m putting these in the kiln until you’re done with your batch. Could you anneal all of them in one go?”
“Got it, Nuri,” Melina calls back.
“Excellent. Now, who wants to try gathering some glass? Any volunteers?”
“I’ll try if you don’t mind,” Kuuper says. His initial timidity is fading, replaced by genuine fascination for the crafting process. He takes the blow pipe from me and holds it in front of him like a quarterstaff, earning a snort from Zviad.
“All right, jab the end to your right into the glass. Stir it a little bit and try to get a glob to stick to it. Scoop some extra and keep it turning so that it doesn’t all fall off the side in a blob. You’ve gotta find the right balance between gloopy and useful.”
Kuuper does his best to follow my directions. His first gather is lopsided and too small for my purposes, so I ask him to dunk the whole thing back into the furnace full of glass and collect a new gather. This time, he comes out with too much, and it’s dripping on the floor.
“Bucket!” I yell, but Lionel is a step ahead of me. He slides a bucket of water underneath the excess glass falling to the ground.
“Keep turning it, Kuuper. Nice! A little slower; don’t splatter us with hot glass. Lift up the pipe a bit and let the gather flatten out. You were holding it down, pointing it at the floor, so it elongated more than we needed.”
“Sorry,” Kuuper says, flushing. He lifts up the blow pipe and keeps turning it, getting the hang of keeping the glass from drooping or dripping on the floor.
“No worries. You’re doing great! Bring that over to the workbench and take a seat. You can rest the blow pipe across the marver. Roll it back and forth while I get you a new, clean mouthpiece. Don’t want you to choke on my spit.”
“Ew!” Lionel says, snickering. “New mouthpieces and flex hoses are on the wall by the storage room, Nuri. We just got a carved set delivered yesterday.”
“What a relief,” Kuuper mutters under his breath, and I can’t help but agree. I don’t mind sharing punties or pipes, but a mouthpiece is a little more personal.
I walk Kuuper through the process to inflate the glass and shape the orb, taking over for the essential parts, like breaking off the neck when we transfer to the punty, or when it’s time to insert the matching mana puzzle. Before long, we’re finished, and his face glows with the pride of a job well done.
I bring the orb over to the annealer, then come back to slap hands with Kuuper. “What do you think? Wanna try again sometime? You did great!”
“Thanks for teaching me. I’ll stick with scholarship for now, but that was more interesting than I ever expected. I always thought crafters did boring and dirty jobs, but that was awesome!”
“Oh, trust me, there are plenty of boring parts,” Lionel mutters.
I chuckle. “Dirty, too, like when Lionel trips and spills soda ash all over the studio. Let me tell you, that was not fun to clean up afterward!”
“Hey! What happened to keeping it in the family?” Lionel protests. “What happens in the glass studio stays in the glass studio.”
I clear my throat. “Kuuper, Zviad? Where would you say that we are right now?”
“Duh. In the glass—oh, I see. Very clever,” Lionel says. He glares at me. “Fine. Next time they visit, I’m telling them all your embarrassing stories.”
“Why not right now?” Zviad says, perking up for the first time. “Don’t hold back. We have all day, if need be.”
Great. Zviad and Lionel are bonding over making fun of me. Something about it bothers me. When Lionel teases me, it’s all fun and games. He’s my friend. Zviad? He’s just mean.
“All right, the demonstration is over,” I announce. “Making a golden eagle for Zviad with the scripts inside is going to be difficult. I’ll need to swap partners and recruit Avelina for help at the flameworking station. I don’t want to mess it up, so give me some space. You can watch Mel at work; she’s more interesting, anyway, since she actually has glass-related Skills.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Zviad regard me more critically. His head tilts, and his eyes narrow. He sneers at me as he seems to come to a conclusion. “You only have your first Class Skill, don’t you? Not enough Potential to keep adding more to your core space?”
“Never tried,” I reply lightly.
Melina glances over, giving me a significant look, but when I keep working with a whistle and a cheerful smile, she lets it go.
Good. I’m not in the mood for sympathy today. I’ve got a plan to earn more Skills. I’m happy with my progress so far. There’s always room to grow, but I’m taking a long term view, just like Ezio says.
“Will it take long?” Zviad asks stiffly. “I believe I’m better suited for the next step in our engagement, provided that you weren’t lying about that, crafter.”
“Oh, you’ll enjoy the Iron Lunk,” I promise. “Maybe you have better training tools in the capital, but out here, this is unique. My brother and I spent years dreaming it up. Drafting the plans, earning enough money for the enchantments, and testing it out has been our passion project for a long time.”
“I’m not much of a fighter,” Kuuper says nervously. “I think Zviad and Eliakim are better suited to that part of our training day.”
“No worries. It’s just for added difficulty. If you don’t get the hang of the orbs yet, then you don’t have to try fighting the automaton,” I reply, still preoccupied with my work.
That seems to satisfy Kuuper, who wanders off to look through the gift shop out front. Zviad joins him, admiring my father’s swords, and they strike up an awkward conversation as I team up with Avelina to shape the sculpture.
It takes almost an hour for us to finish the golden eagle, due to its complexity, and another hour slips by as we wait for Melina’s temporal acceleration and [Flawless Annealing] to work in conjunction. It’s such a commonplace experience for me that I don’t think about it anymore, but its wonder is likewise lost on our guests. They simply don’t realize how impressive it is to take their pieces home with them after a hot shop visit, instead of coming back the next day.
The golden eagle is one of my finest efforts, I think with a rush of joy as I examine the sharp beak and detailed feathers. If I can consistently craft something with this kind of quality, then I’ll definitely have a fighting chance at the glass competition one day.
Nevertheless, we’re on our way before things devolve into complaints and disparaging comments from Zviad, and we soon reach my parent’s farmstead with everyone still intact and in relatively good spirits. For this group, I count that as a victory.