“Anaise.” Ramad almost whistled, while twirling his moustache. The sword and shield turned back into a door and stick and were left lying on the floor. “You’ve grown. Quite fast, as well: I didn’t expect you to show such levels of power for at least another century. Be careful — such power comes at a cost. It might be time for you to learn precision and restrain-“
Another rumble interrupted his speech. Irje punched a nearby fence and walked through the opening. Viter in tow.
I stared hard at her, making my gaze as obvious as possible to the cougar who was dual-wielding her two favourite dildos. Irje coughed and tucked them into her sash. At least they weren’t glowing much.
“Who are they?” The old werfox turned around to the newcomers, assessing both my wife and my bodyguard.
Anaise sighed. “Thank you, Viter, for your service. If not for you, I would have been woefully late to this incident. You can leave us.” Her hand reached out and patted our cougar on the shoulder. “That is Irje, she is mine.”
I kept my mouth shut: what Anaise meant by that and how she said it painted completely different pictures. Likely for a reason. Irje probably understood that as well, judging by her smirk as her fingers trailed the silver tree on her medallion.
Viter caught my tiny nod and made himself scarce. Poor fella, he was hired to protect me yet all my enemies ended up being leagues ahead of both of us. But he was a status symbol, so I couldn’t simply get rid of him. Well, him bringing Anaise over definitely helped me better than dying to protect me, so he did pick up some wisdom over the weeks.
Ramad glanced at my cougar’s neck and nodded. “A mighty wer, indeed. Your mother had been spoiling you. Although, judging by your progress, it feels warranted. I assume this is your Erf, then? He is quite feisty. Resilient and full of vigour too. Train him well and he will make a good companion slave.”
“Not important.” Anaise cut him off. “Why are you here and, most importantly, why were you attacking him in the first place?”
“Because he isn’t just feisty, but stupid.” That got me a glare. “Only those who dream of death would dare to surprise a wermage from above. He was lucky I spared his life with my first spell — or he would be lying on the ground with a hole in the chest.”
He didn’t. Spare me, that is. I’d felt the direct impact just after it crushed the beam under my feet. My skinsuit absorbed the impact. What the spell didn’t do was hit me in the centre of mass — it added to my mid-air spin instead of launching me across the room.
That was an important piece of information to have. Whatever that invisible arrow was — my suit could protect against it. But it did turn stiff in response — I had to keep that in mind for the future if I were to face off against a wermage once again.
“Forgive me for trying to be cautious, but the last time I had unknown people wandering in — they were Collectors,” I snarked back.
His fingers stopped mid-twirl. “I don’t remember telling you to speak.”
I shrugged. “I don’t remember inviting you into my personal estate. Yet here we are.”
Ramad turned to face me straight ahead. “You dare to speak like that to the husband of Domina herself? Do you wish to have your tongue cut off?”
“Good question. Yet I do this in front of the Lady of the House,” I nodded at Anaise, “without getting instantly smacked in return. Perhaps it is for a reason.”
“I will talk to you about your propensity to attack my family at a later time, Erf.” The said Lady of the House rubbed her temples.
“O~or we could always ask Domina herself, directly.” I instantly returned to the conversation at hand as I tried to avoid the real danger. “She would be quite interested to learn that her husband is dispensing justice despite her words.”
“You don’t fear her heeding my words?” he spoke quietly.
Irje slowly walked behind me and placed her hand on my back in support.
I shook my head. “Domina is wise and just, and I have done nothing but defend myself.” I met his eyes head-on without flinching. “I do not fear her justice.”
Ramad scoffed. “So, you are wasting our time then.”
“I beg your pardon?” I thought I got whiplash from the topic change.
“You should,” he instantly quipped. “Do you know the reason why Amalric has been pressuring you all this time?”
“Yes,” I replied sarcastically. “She is currently overseeing the glass kilns.”
“I am not talking about the Envoy. She pushed the boulder off the wall, yes.” His finger poked my chest. “But it is you, who let it roll that far.”
I moved to push it aside but the finger was long gone.
“Despite all Tarhunna’s attempts, Amalric is a warrior at heart.” Ramad mused as he walked around us. “He sees strength and, most importantly, he respects strength. Your planning, plotting, and thinking ahead did nothing but highlight your weakness elsewhere in his eyes.
“What you did could be seen as commendable for an average murk. They lack the strength and power to strike back directly, so they have to rely on soft power. Your actions might work with ruling ladies and generals, but you will see yourself mocked by the common soldier. I came here thinking that you need to be taught to do that. Apparently, you already can, but chose not to for some reason. Despite having the strength of a wer: some concoction of strength, most likely.”
“Because hard power escalates.” I ignored his dig at my strength, since technically he was right: my nanites could be seen as a potion of strength and I — as the alchemist who made them. “I already have trouble with more and more powerful adversaries even by looking like a common murk.”
“That is why you use both. You would’ve had much less trouble from Amalric if you showed him that you could stand your ground yourself and then fell back on the protection of Domina to make it stick. I see your hair is getting long — how are you planning to survive the battlefield?”
“As master Siamak was teaching me? I will get decent armour too.”
“You study under him and yet you decided to ambush me from above?” He looked at me incredulously. “How many barrel throws did you intercept with that head of yours that you couldn’t even realise others are trained in an equal manner? Worst of all — you chose to mumble something incomprehensible to announce your presence. I have no sisters and I hide from no one.”
I scratched my nose. Siamak did train me extensively on the local version of drop bears. And their frequent assaults from above. Thinking back, surprising the wermage that frequently travelled through the Forest wasn’t a stellar move on my part. “I assumed you were someone else. A friend of mine.”
Anaise made gagging noises in the back.
Ramad shook his head. “A petty insult, then? How dull. So, back to the battles. Let me guess — you will make it look like an average armour in the process, am I right? Or dress like a Collector: unnoticed and unseen.”
I narrowed my eyes. That was awfully close to what I was currently planning to do. Camouflage and the element of surprise were critical even in space, where sensors reigned supreme. Even the most ‘quiet’ ships would light up like torches in the sky when they had to change trajectories.
Anaise flinched seeing my expression.
“And then you will die,” Ramad hissed. “You will be crushed like a common soldier and left to rot in the field. What you want to do is show your importance — make the enemy see you, if not like an officer, then as a person of importance.”
“Wouldn’t the officers be targeted first?” I frowned. That seemed like a logical action on the battlefield. Get rid of the ones in charge and the rest would break rank.
“Why do you think wars are fought?”
“Territory. Power. Wealth.”
Ramad scoffed. “If Emanai fought for territory, we would’ve perished a long time ago. Starved to death by keeping our borders that long. The wars are fought for wealth. To take slaves from their cities. To plunder gold from their coffers. And to force them to pay tribute year after year.”
His finger poked me once again; I let it, this time around. “Officers aren’t killed. They are captured and held for ransom. And if you are that important to my wife, I think she would prefer to part with a pouch of gold for your life rather than search the fields of battle, looking for your rotting ass.”
XXX
“So that was your second father…” Irje murmured, watching Ramad walk away. The missing front of my barn made it easy to do.
“He might be blunt, but he isn’t bad,” Anaise replied. “My mother wouldn’t let him.”
“Well, he is honest, that’s for sure.” I sighed. “And his words leave a lot to think about.”
The werfox’s fingers tugged at my tunic. “Was he right? That you could have used your power but chose to hide it instead? Why?”
“I was honest when I said that I fear escalation. I don’t keep my name for no reason. I am still Erf and I am still a murk. I am very much aware of how powerful wermage society is. I am also keenly aware of how powerful I can be in turn. And if I were to escalate — some will start to die.”
Irje cracked her fingers. “It is their choice to throw their lives away.”
“Perhaps. But there lies the issue. These wermages tend to have wermage parents. And wermage siblings. While I’ve noticed that it is very tricky to bruise their egos as a ‘mere murk’.”
“You are still not getting dressed as a bush into battle.” Anaise harrumphed. “I do not wish to find out that you ate a boulder because you spooked a nearby wermage.”
I chuckled. “Now, I wouldn’t dare to. Besides,” I reached out and pulled my tunic straight — revealing the new holes in it, “while I am stronger than I appear, I am also much tougher. Your father’s spells didn’t miss.”
Both of them gasped and peered into the hole, seeing no damage but a few cracked scales underneath. Something that my skinsuit would regrow in a few seconds anyway.
“This is one of my trump cards. And I am willing to keep it secret until the most critical moment.”
“And what would you consider as such a moment, then?” Anaise glanced at me.
“Legitimate threat to your or my well-being.” I shrugged. “I keep my skinsuit hidden but I would don it instantly if I feel threatened. This is why I grew it in the first place. Speaking of escalation. Irje. Why dildos? What were you planning to escalate this into!?”
“They respond better than anything to my magic…” she grumbled, looking away. “If I were to face a serious threat that managed to destroy half of the barn, I would need my best available tools.”
“That…was actually me.” Anaise coughed. “I was kinda in a rush to get inside.”
“No wonder.” The cougar shook her head ruefully. “So that is your real strength…”
“And she is our strength, Irje.” I gently rubbed her shoulder. “But we still need to do something about your weapons.”
“I am working on the werbow. But…it is fighting me.”
Anaise sighed. “You are fighting it.”
“Let me think of something.” I dusted my tunic and turned toward the ‘exit’. “Come.”
XXX
“Isra? Can I bother you for a moment?” I knocked on the door.
“Erf.” Anaise huffed nearby. “Why are you trying to be so polite? She works for you, just tell her what you need her to do.”
“I am being polite,” I replied walking in. “Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.” Irje smirked and nodded at the smith. “All your politeness has done is scare her instead.”
“I am not scared!” Isra Haleh clutched her hammer. “I was just surprised.”
“I need you to craft something for me. A set of gauntlets. A few different sets, actually.” I grumbled in defeat.
“Yes, I can probably do that.” Isra sighed in relief and put her hammer aside. “What’s a gauntlet?”
I stopped the urge to palm my face. “Think of it like scale armour for the hand. You have leather gloves for work, right? I want you to design a few small plates so that they could be riveted together and tied to a leather glove.”
“Erf.” Irje nudged me again. “Wouldn’t that interfere with archery?”
“You don’t have to practice them at the same time. But if they are done well it is possible to shoot with them on.”
“So.” Isra scratched her head. “You want steel to be everywhere? Irje is right — it would make it very stiff. I can make a small shield to wear on the shooting hand — it would provide better protection.”
“Oh no. Not at all. The palm will stay open. Most of the steel would be on the outside. Technically to protect it from strikes when it grips a weapon. But that is not that important, yet. What I want is a set of metal plates that are joined together, yet flexible enough to provide the full range of hand movements.”
“If it is on one side only…” the minotaur mused. “So like many knee joints? Give me a day or two and I will have something ready.”
“Great. And make sure they fit Irje’s hands. They are made for her, after all.” I glanced around her smithy only to frown once again. “Is that…your anvil?”
“Yes? What about it?” She glanced at it for a quick second only to look back at me.
“I am not that familiar with anvils…but should they be…bigger?”
The ‘anvil’ in question was rather pitiful in my eyes. I always pictured Isra toiling away in front of a large anvil with a prominent horn to strike curves into metal. What I saw in front of me looked more like a tiny block of metal, wedged into a tree stump. Something that would work well for a sledgehammer but not for an anvil itself.
“I am a wermage, Erf.” Isra sighed tiredly. “The large wrought anvils work well for murk apprentices but I would shatter it into pieces with a single strike. This one is made from solid steel and shipped from mountain clans. It is small but it gets the job done.”
“Well. We will need to get you another one as soon as the furnaces are running.”
“What? A large one but made out of solid steel?” She looked at me only to sputter when I silently pointed at the pile of collected bloom scrap beside the already growing mountain of ore. “Yeva said that new bricks are almost ready! Keivan can start building them within a day. The blast one and the…puddle one?”
“Puddling furnace. Good. Once they are done we will be tackling steel creation.”
After some serious deliberation, I decided to stick with a rather ‘basic’ design. While I could get rid of carbon much faster by blowing air through it, that could introduce nitrogen into the mix and make it brittle. Puddling furnaces could not produce a ton of steel and had to rely on skilful hands but that worked well for me. I didn’t need steel in industrial amounts yet and Isra’s aptitude with metal would easily overshadow anything that I could cobble for now.
I wasn’t building iron bridges yet to crave the full Bessemer process. And, once I had enough steel for basic lathes, steam engines and air-tight containers, I would skip the said process and convert pig iron with pure oxygen gas. Yet another temporary process but I couldn’t skip all the steps on the stairs of progress.
“Don’t worry! I still have enough material to finish your previous order. And work on gauntlet plates,” Isra was quick to assure me.
“We will leave you to your work then, Isra Haleh.” I nodded and headed out for the exit, pulling my sadaq along. Considering the size of that anvil — Isra did a tremendous amount of work already. The least I could do was leave her alone.
So the brigandine plates were almost ready. I had to visit the bio-printer and check the spools of spider silk. The first set of plates would be attached to normal cloth as an early concept; but the second one, with better steel, would need something stronger.
It would protect me after all. And I didn’t want it to rip and tear just as my tunic did.
“Say, Erf. What were you doing in these barns? If you had time to ambush my father, you probably could’ve sneaked out as well.” Anaise slid closer to me as we were walking away from the smithy.
Absentmindedly I grabbed her with my arms and pulled her even closer. She didn’t fight me, despite making our walk a bit more awkward.
“The barns aren’t empty,” I quietly mused directly into her ear. Loud enough that only Irje could hear us. “I use them for some private work. Your father could figure out where I went just by looking at grass alone — I didn’t want him to rummage through my things.”
“Private?” Anaise leaned into my chest, her ear right at my mouth.
I sighed. “Looking back, you and your mother frequently avoided talking about certain subjects for no apparent reason. Did the reason finally reveal itself?”
She glanced upward at me and then at the castle in the sky. And slightly nodded into my chest.
“Then I should keep it quiet for now,” I gently murmured. “Keep it inside the mind of a murk. At least until this is all over with.”
Because what I had discovered was groundbreaking even in comparison to the arrival of Emanai gods. The lithoscanner wasn’t simply malfunctioning. It was reacting to wermages. Their Sparks, most likely.
Not only did it mean that I finally had a lead on where their magic was coming from, but I also knew for sure how unique this world, Tana, was. The lithoscanner was a piece of very reliable technology. And it visited numerous worlds over its life. So did millions of other lithoscanners everywhere else.
If this magic was common, humanity would’ve noticed it by now. Yet it did not.
Not until it arrived on this world. And was literally thrown into the stone age, based on their written history. I had a sinking feeling that it was also the cause of Lif crashing into the planet, and my previous self choosing to preserve the self in nanite storage.
I glanced into the sky. Were these gods responsible? If they were powerful enough to do that — it was no wonder why the people of Emanai had seen them as divine beings.
Magic or not.
“Anaise.” Ramad almost whistled, while twirling his moustache. The sword and shield turned back into a door and stick and were left lying on the floor. “You’ve grown. Quite fast, as well: I didn’t expect you to show such levels of power for at least another century. Be careful — such power comes at a cost. It might be time for you to learn precision and restrain-“
Another rumble interrupted his speech. Irje punched a nearby fence and walked through the opening. Viter in tow.
I stared hard at her, making my gaze as obvious as possible to the cougar who was dual-wielding her two favourite dildos. Irje coughed and tucked them into her sash. At least they weren’t glowing much.
“Who are they?” The old werfox turned around to the newcomers, assessing both my wife and my bodyguard.
Anaise sighed. “Thank you, Viter, for your service. If not for you, I would have been woefully late to this incident. You can leave us.” Her hand reached out and patted our cougar on the shoulder. “That is Irje, she is mine.”
I kept my mouth shut: what Anaise meant by that and how she said it painted completely different pictures. Likely for a reason. Irje probably understood that as well, judging by her smirk as her fingers trailed the silver tree on her medallion.
Viter caught my tiny nod and made himself scarce. Poor fella, he was hired to protect me yet all my enemies ended up being leagues ahead of both of us. But he was a status symbol, so I couldn’t simply get rid of him. Well, him bringing Anaise over definitely helped me better than dying to protect me, so he did pick up some wisdom over the weeks.
Ramad glanced at my cougar’s neck and nodded. “A mighty wer, indeed. Your mother had been spoiling you. Although, judging by your progress, it feels warranted. I assume this is your Erf, then? He is quite feisty. Resilient and full of vigour too. Train him well and he will make a good companion slave.”
“Not important.” Anaise cut him off. “Why are you here and, most importantly, why were you attacking him in the first place?”
“Because he isn’t just feisty, but stupid.” That got me a glare. “Only those who dream of death would dare to surprise a wermage from above. He was lucky I spared his life with my first spell — or he would be lying on the ground with a hole in the chest.”
He didn’t. Spare me, that is. I’d felt the direct impact just after it crushed the beam under my feet. My skinsuit absorbed the impact. What the spell didn’t do was hit me in the centre of mass — it added to my mid-air spin instead of launching me across the room.
That was an important piece of information to have. Whatever that invisible arrow was — my suit could protect against it. But it did turn stiff in response — I had to keep that in mind for the future if I were to face off against a wermage once again.
“Forgive me for trying to be cautious, but the last time I had unknown people wandering in — they were Collectors,” I snarked back.
His fingers stopped mid-twirl. “I don’t remember telling you to speak.”
I shrugged. “I don’t remember inviting you into my personal estate. Yet here we are.”
Ramad turned to face me straight ahead. “You dare to speak like that to the husband of Domina herself? Do you wish to have your tongue cut off?”
“Good question. Yet I do this in front of the Lady of the House,” I nodded at Anaise, “without getting instantly smacked in return. Perhaps it is for a reason.”
“I will talk to you about your propensity to attack my family at a later time, Erf.” The said Lady of the House rubbed her temples.
“O~or we could always ask Domina herself, directly.” I instantly returned to the conversation at hand as I tried to avoid the real danger. “She would be quite interested to learn that her husband is dispensing justice despite her words.”
“You don’t fear her heeding my words?” he spoke quietly.
Irje slowly walked behind me and placed her hand on my back in support.
I shook my head. “Domina is wise and just, and I have done nothing but defend myself.” I met his eyes head-on without flinching. “I do not fear her justice.”
Ramad scoffed. “So, you are wasting our time then.”
“I beg your pardon?” I thought I got whiplash from the topic change.
“You should,” he instantly quipped. “Do you know the reason why Amalric has been pressuring you all this time?”
“Yes,” I replied sarcastically. “She is currently overseeing the glass kilns.”
“I am not talking about the Envoy. She pushed the boulder off the wall, yes.” His finger poked my chest. “But it is you, who let it roll that far.”
I moved to push it aside but the finger was long gone.
“Despite all Tarhunna’s attempts, Amalric is a warrior at heart.” Ramad mused as he walked around us. “He sees strength and, most importantly, he respects strength. Your planning, plotting, and thinking ahead did nothing but highlight your weakness elsewhere in his eyes.
“What you did could be seen as commendable for an average murk. They lack the strength and power to strike back directly, so they have to rely on soft power. Your actions might work with ruling ladies and generals, but you will see yourself mocked by the common soldier. I came here thinking that you need to be taught to do that. Apparently, you already can, but chose not to for some reason. Despite having the strength of a wer: some concoction of strength, most likely.”
“Because hard power escalates.” I ignored his dig at my strength, since technically he was right: my nanites could be seen as a potion of strength and I — as the alchemist who made them. “I already have trouble with more and more powerful adversaries even by looking like a common murk.”
“That is why you use both. You would’ve had much less trouble from Amalric if you showed him that you could stand your ground yourself and then fell back on the protection of Domina to make it stick. I see your hair is getting long — how are you planning to survive the battlefield?”
“As master Siamak was teaching me? I will get decent armour too.”
“You study under him and yet you decided to ambush me from above?” He looked at me incredulously. “How many barrel throws did you intercept with that head of yours that you couldn’t even realise others are trained in an equal manner? Worst of all — you chose to mumble something incomprehensible to announce your presence. I have no sisters and I hide from no one.”
I scratched my nose. Siamak did train me extensively on the local version of drop bears. And their frequent assaults from above. Thinking back, surprising the wermage that frequently travelled through the Forest wasn’t a stellar move on my part. “I assumed you were someone else. A friend of mine.”
Anaise made gagging noises in the back.
Ramad shook his head. “A petty insult, then? How dull. So, back to the battles. Let me guess — you will make it look like an average armour in the process, am I right? Or dress like a Collector: unnoticed and unseen.”
I narrowed my eyes. That was awfully close to what I was currently planning to do. Camouflage and the element of surprise were critical even in space, where sensors reigned supreme. Even the most ‘quiet’ ships would light up like torches in the sky when they had to change trajectories.
Anaise flinched seeing my expression.
“And then you will die,” Ramad hissed. “You will be crushed like a common soldier and left to rot in the field. What you want to do is show your importance — make the enemy see you, if not like an officer, then as a person of importance.”
“Wouldn’t the officers be targeted first?” I frowned. That seemed like a logical action on the battlefield. Get rid of the ones in charge and the rest would break rank.
“Why do you think wars are fought?”
“Territory. Power. Wealth.”
Ramad scoffed. “If Emanai fought for territory, we would’ve perished a long time ago. Starved to death by keeping our borders that long. The wars are fought for wealth. To take slaves from their cities. To plunder gold from their coffers. And to force them to pay tribute year after year.”
His finger poked me once again; I let it, this time around. “Officers aren’t killed. They are captured and held for ransom. And if you are that important to my wife, I think she would prefer to part with a pouch of gold for your life rather than search the fields of battle, looking for your rotting ass.”
XXX
“So that was your second father…” Irje murmured, watching Ramad walk away. The missing front of my barn made it easy to do.
“He might be blunt, but he isn’t bad,” Anaise replied. “My mother wouldn’t let him.”
“Well, he is honest, that’s for sure.” I sighed. “And his words leave a lot to think about.”
The werfox’s fingers tugged at my tunic. “Was he right? That you could have used your power but chose to hide it instead? Why?”
“I was honest when I said that I fear escalation. I don’t keep my name for no reason. I am still Erf and I am still a murk. I am very much aware of how powerful wermage society is. I am also keenly aware of how powerful I can be in turn. And if I were to escalate — some will start to die.”
Irje cracked her fingers. “It is their choice to throw their lives away.”
“Perhaps. But there lies the issue. These wermages tend to have wermage parents. And wermage siblings. While I’ve noticed that it is very tricky to bruise their egos as a ‘mere murk’.”
“You are still not getting dressed as a bush into battle.” Anaise harrumphed. “I do not wish to find out that you ate a boulder because you spooked a nearby wermage.”
I chuckled. “Now, I wouldn’t dare to. Besides,” I reached out and pulled my tunic straight — revealing the new holes in it, “while I am stronger than I appear, I am also much tougher. Your father’s spells didn’t miss.”
Both of them gasped and peered into the hole, seeing no damage but a few cracked scales underneath. Something that my skinsuit would regrow in a few seconds anyway.
“This is one of my trump cards. And I am willing to keep it secret until the most critical moment.”
“And what would you consider as such a moment, then?” Anaise glanced at me.
“Legitimate threat to your or my well-being.” I shrugged. “I keep my skinsuit hidden but I would don it instantly if I feel threatened. This is why I grew it in the first place. Speaking of escalation. Irje. Why dildos? What were you planning to escalate this into!?”
“They respond better than anything to my magic…” she grumbled, looking away. “If I were to face a serious threat that managed to destroy half of the barn, I would need my best available tools.”
“That…was actually me.” Anaise coughed. “I was kinda in a rush to get inside.”
“No wonder.” The cougar shook her head ruefully. “So that is your real strength…”
“And she is our strength, Irje.” I gently rubbed her shoulder. “But we still need to do something about your weapons.”
“I am working on the werbow. But…it is fighting me.”
Anaise sighed. “You are fighting it.”
“Let me think of something.” I dusted my tunic and turned toward the ‘exit’. “Come.”
XXX
“Isra? Can I bother you for a moment?” I knocked on the door.
“Erf.” Anaise huffed nearby. “Why are you trying to be so polite? She works for you, just tell her what you need her to do.”
“I am being polite,” I replied walking in. “Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.” Irje smirked and nodded at the smith. “All your politeness has done is scare her instead.”
“I am not scared!” Isra Haleh clutched her hammer. “I was just surprised.”
“I need you to craft something for me. A set of gauntlets. A few different sets, actually.” I grumbled in defeat.
“Yes, I can probably do that.” Isra sighed in relief and put her hammer aside. “What’s a gauntlet?”
I stopped the urge to palm my face. “Think of it like scale armour for the hand. You have leather gloves for work, right? I want you to design a few small plates so that they could be riveted together and tied to a leather glove.”
“Erf.” Irje nudged me again. “Wouldn’t that interfere with archery?”
“You don’t have to practice them at the same time. But if they are done well it is possible to shoot with them on.”
“So.” Isra scratched her head. “You want steel to be everywhere? Irje is right — it would make it very stiff. I can make a small shield to wear on the shooting hand — it would provide better protection.”
“Oh no. Not at all. The palm will stay open. Most of the steel would be on the outside. Technically to protect it from strikes when it grips a weapon. But that is not that important, yet. What I want is a set of metal plates that are joined together, yet flexible enough to provide the full range of hand movements.”
“If it is on one side only…” the minotaur mused. “So like many knee joints? Give me a day or two and I will have something ready.”
“Great. And make sure they fit Irje’s hands. They are made for her, after all.” I glanced around her smithy only to frown once again. “Is that…your anvil?”
“Yes? What about it?” She glanced at it for a quick second only to look back at me.
“I am not that familiar with anvils…but should they be…bigger?”
The ‘anvil’ in question was rather pitiful in my eyes. I always pictured Isra toiling away in front of a large anvil with a prominent horn to strike curves into metal. What I saw in front of me looked more like a tiny block of metal, wedged into a tree stump. Something that would work well for a sledgehammer but not for an anvil itself.
“I am a wermage, Erf.” Isra sighed tiredly. “The large wrought anvils work well for murk apprentices but I would shatter it into pieces with a single strike. This one is made from solid steel and shipped from mountain clans. It is small but it gets the job done.”
“Well. We will need to get you another one as soon as the furnaces are running.”
“What? A large one but made out of solid steel?” She looked at me only to sputter when I silently pointed at the pile of collected bloom scrap beside the already growing mountain of ore. “Yeva said that new bricks are almost ready! Keivan can start building them within a day. The blast one and the…puddle one?”
“Puddling furnace. Good. Once they are done we will be tackling steel creation.”
After some serious deliberation, I decided to stick with a rather ‘basic’ design. While I could get rid of carbon much faster by blowing air through it, that could introduce nitrogen into the mix and make it brittle. Puddling furnaces could not produce a ton of steel and had to rely on skilful hands but that worked well for me. I didn’t need steel in industrial amounts yet and Isra’s aptitude with metal would easily overshadow anything that I could cobble for now.
I wasn’t building iron bridges yet to crave the full Bessemer process. And, once I had enough steel for basic lathes, steam engines and air-tight containers, I would skip the said process and convert pig iron with pure oxygen gas. Yet another temporary process but I couldn’t skip all the steps on the stairs of progress.
“Don’t worry! I still have enough material to finish your previous order. And work on gauntlet plates,” Isra was quick to assure me.
“We will leave you to your work then, Isra Haleh.” I nodded and headed out for the exit, pulling my sadaq along. Considering the size of that anvil — Isra did a tremendous amount of work already. The least I could do was leave her alone.
So the brigandine plates were almost ready. I had to visit the bio-printer and check the spools of spider silk. The first set of plates would be attached to normal cloth as an early concept; but the second one, with better steel, would need something stronger.
It would protect me after all. And I didn’t want it to rip and tear just as my tunic did.
“Say, Erf. What were you doing in these barns? If you had time to ambush my father, you probably could’ve sneaked out as well.” Anaise slid closer to me as we were walking away from the smithy.
Absentmindedly I grabbed her with my arms and pulled her even closer. She didn’t fight me, despite making our walk a bit more awkward.
“The barns aren’t empty,” I quietly mused directly into her ear. Loud enough that only Irje could hear us. “I use them for some private work. Your father could figure out where I went just by looking at grass alone — I didn’t want him to rummage through my things.”
“Private?” Anaise leaned into my chest, her ear right at my mouth.
I sighed. “Looking back, you and your mother frequently avoided talking about certain subjects for no apparent reason. Did the reason finally reveal itself?”
She glanced upward at me and then at the castle in the sky. And slightly nodded into my chest.
“Then I should keep it quiet for now,” I gently murmured. “Keep it inside the mind of a murk. At least until this is all over with.”
Because what I had discovered was groundbreaking even in comparison to the arrival of Emanai gods. The lithoscanner wasn’t simply malfunctioning. It was reacting to wermages. Their Sparks, most likely.
Not only did it mean that I finally had a lead on where their magic was coming from, but I also knew for sure how unique this world, Tana, was. The lithoscanner was a piece of very reliable technology. And it visited numerous worlds over its life. So did millions of other lithoscanners everywhere else.
If this magic was common, humanity would’ve noticed it by now. Yet it did not.
Not until it arrived on this world. And was literally thrown into the stone age, based on their written history. I had a sinking feeling that it was also the cause of Lif crashing into the planet, and my previous self choosing to preserve the self in nanite storage.
I glanced into the sky. Were these gods responsible? If they were powerful enough to do that — it was no wonder why the people of Emanai had seen them as divine beings.
Magic or not.
