Gauge Snow signed an order to increase starting benefits across the board in his copper mines. This ought to amuse Axis Flicker, not that the younger man’s father would care. No, the factories would continue to pour dissatisfied laborers into the trains leading to the Ignis Crater, and the Count of Copper was fine with that.

With a sigh, Gauge leaned back in his chair, laced his gloved fingers over his brocade waistcoat, and crossed his polished spats on top of his desk. This Founding Season was more welcome than last year’s. So much progress had been made in steam ingenuity, mostly thanks to Dr. Tempest’s contributions. Meanwhile, as the man in charge of progress, Valve Flicker proved more nauseating by the minute. Quotas weren’t being met, and Gauge tired of the Factory Master deflecting concern onto crops. It was a maneuver, a pawn offered on the chessboard, but for watching the vein pop in Axis’ forehead, it was losing its entertainment value.

Not to mention, it was a waste of the twenty-nine-year-old Gauge’s precious fucking time to deal with middle-aged stalwarts.

There were ceremonies to prepare and balls to arrange. Every wedding required Gauge’s officiation, but it served more as a way of keeping track of post-Founding lineage. Not every genetic pairing was optimal, and he oversaw the matches to guarantee the survival of the best traits. Though it wasn’t as if anyone knew that. They all assumed it was his right as the man who’d led them to their salvation.

Winter’s children were so easily manipulated.

Tired from four days of insomnia, Gauge sat up straight and swiped his gloved hands down his face. He was getting old if less than a week without rest was wearing him down this badly. Or perhaps it was a byproduct of too much work. It kept coming and hadn’t looked likely to slow down over the course of the ten years since the electromagnetic pulse had rendered electronics useless. What a glorious age of steam and copper it had heralded, and oh, so many secrets.

Gauge got up from his desk, left his conservatory for the library, and climbed up the rosewood spiral stairs. At the top, he went to the southwest corner and moved a set of false books aside. He reached behind them to dial his combination into the lock. When the tumblers released the mechanism, he pushed the wall of books inward. Steam hissed as the hydraulics allowed him into the vault.

The darkness inside smelled of leather and blackmail. Gauge inhaled it as he turned up the lights. Their rose glass fixtures illuminated the columbarium of extortion in soft pink hues. Every cremation slot held a wealth of persuasion, but none so valuable as the two in the center, aptly labeled Tempest and Flicker. Each of their columns were twenty slots tall and three slots wide.

Ignoring the good doctor’s dossier, Gauge went to the Flickers’ files, hoping for some inspiration to motivate the Factory Master into doing his job. Gauge’s spies kept comfortable supplying this treasure trove, living handsomely above the table of obligatory labor. While he studied the material on Valve, Gauge helped himself to a drink, sat in one of the tufted chairs, and frowned at the reports until his vision blurred.

It surprised Gauge to find nothing on Axis. The People’s Prince didn’t liaison with his employees, nor did he abuse his position of power. He didn’t even embezzle from the company pot. The only news in his file pertained to his relationship with Lexia Tempest, and that included a forthright request from her father for Axis to marry Leon’s daughter.

So wholesome.

So boring.

But the mention of Lexia made Gauge glance at the Tempests’ slots. She was old enough to marry now, and he realized she must be about twenty-three. Not that he would know this information offhand. Gauge hadn’t seen her since they were children. He set his drink aside, left his chair, and crossed the vault to the Tempest collection. He opened the slot and rifled through the papers until he found a signed trade agreement with Lexia’s seal.

A gilded butterfly.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Butterflies are so pretty. They’re my favorite. What do you like, Gauge?”

Gauge, nine at the time, wanted to make friends with Lexia and Axis, and he knew the perfect gift to give her for an upcoming birthday. Sickly as he was, Gauge went outside every day for a month and collected twenty-five butterflies. Excited, he prepared his present for Lexia, hoping that by winning her approval, Axis would teach him to climb trees. Yes, they were younger than him—four and five respectively—but Gauge was small for his age. ‘Little Bones’ his father would call him.

After a bad bout of his illness, Gauge was too weak to attend Lexia’s birthday, so he made sure to rest and take his medicine. In a week’s time, he was allowed to visit Dr. Tempest’s home again. There, he gave Lexia her birthday present.

Twenty-five butterflies pinned and labeled.

But the surprise went all wrong.

Lexia saw the dead butterflies and began to cry.

“Please, Lexia, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad—”

“Get away from her, Gauge.” Axis pulled Lexia’s face, yellow with tears, into his chest and held her. “Don’t come near us again.”

Gauge blinked and found himself aware of his vault once more. He refocused on the present issue.

It was a known fact that Axis didn’t like public engagements. He abstained from the Founding events and only attended factory functions under threat of being disowned. Gauge wondered how the young man would fair in such an ambitious relationship. Every single detail of their marriage would fall under public scrutiny, including the engagement and wedding. And what sort of match would the two make?

Lexia was a genetic marvel, so similar to her mother. If it were up to Gauge, he would clone the girl to keep her genes pure, but Axis wasn’t an unworthy match. His intellect and coloring would make for a positive contribution to Winter’s pool.

However, it was in Gauge’s best interest for the two to separate immediately. Tempest and Flicker together, uniting their families and their industries.

Against Gauge.

No. He needed some dirt on the squeaky clean Prince as soon as possible, preferably before his father’s death and Axis’ subsequent inheritance over Flicker Industries.

And as for Lexia, Dr. Tempest kept her like a princess locked in a tower. She attended nothing. Ever. The last time Gauge had glimpsed her white hair and black eyes was the first Founding Day when she’d been thirteen and the world went by another name.

A lesser name.

Winter suited the planet better amid an ice age. Only steam–engineered glass domes kept the cities safe, and they were connected by steam-powered underground tracks. All of which were supplied by Gauge’s imagination. Without him, there would be no cities on Winter. Without him, there would be no people at all.

The Founding Parade sounded outside, and Gauge cursed. He swept on his coat, grabbed a top hat, and his cane—

With a quick about-face, he went to his desk to reclaim his glasses. He couldn’t go outside without them. The copper along the side of the lenses blocked his peripheral vision, but also kept out the light from the sun, which was almost prismatic through the glass domes. It blinded his weak corneas.

It was one reason Gauge had removed himself from the gene pool, but that was more negativity than he cared to entertain during the first day of his favorite season. The season all about Gauge and how he saved Winter.

The second he left his library, half-dressed servants descended upon him.

“Count Snow, we have prepared your speech for today.”

“Don’t forget your cane, sir.”

“Will you require refreshments once you commence the Season’s festivities?”

To labor in the Copper Cathedral was an honor. Gauge was not a demanding master, and his people luxuriated in the finest of everything not only for their lifetimes, but for the lifetimes of their children and so on. However, their loyalty came with a price. Wrong him—betray him—and Gauge would cast their entire family in the Wall of Pain. The doors to the Copper Cathedral were a permanent reminder of his expectations and the punishment for failing them.

The copper entry opened now, revealing a gathered crowd in Snow Plaza. Gauge set his top hat on his midnight black braids and leaned a little more heavily on his jeweled cane as he stepped outside. The parade and those who followed it into the Plaza cheered at his appearance. He stepped out onto the veranda, standing half a story above the cobbles, and waved.

From the apex of Tempest Boulevard, the good doctor, Leon, fired a flare, and blue streaked the sky. From the left, where Flicker Avenue intersected with the plaza, Valve shot a red flare. Gauge fired the copper-colored flare into the night. When the three lights joined in the sky at a triangle, the music started up again, and their people danced in the streets. The half-naked men and women on the floats joined the dancers with the band, and merriment ensued.

While Axis avoided public events, Gauge relished them. He loved the colors and sounds—the smells of delicious treats from concessions. The glitter and glitz dazzled him and filled his heart with pride.

He did this.

Gauge’s hard preparation had earned him this reward, and it never got old.