Commerce Emperor Chapter 34: The March of Progress (Patreon)

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As promised, Aiglemont presented himself at the manor at dawn.

By then, Marika and Mr. Fronan had collaborated to transform the metal fence surrounding the property into better-defended stone walls. It must have been surprising for the neighbors to wake up and find that fortifications had been magically raised overnight. If word of our true identities hadn’t spread to half the city yet, it would soon.

In any case, I summoned Marika and Mr. Fronan to the meeting with Aiglemont in order to discuss buying a supply of Alfland silk, only to learn that these two had already transformed the ground floor’s drawing room into a workshop. They didn’t stay idle in my absence either.

“What is this?” I asked them as I examined the strange devices littering the room. They ran the gamut from a fist-sized replica of the airship, a strange leather suit with a helmet bound to pouches by tubes, a suit of knightly armor, to a pack of clothes bound by a wooden frame.

Oddest of all, and clearly the last thing these two had been working on before falling asleep from exhaustion, was a miniature replica of Snowdrift made entirely from cutlery. I was especially impressed by the Black Keep, which had been entirely constructed with spoons merged by Marika’s power.

“Oh, Robin…” Marika greeted me with a yawn, her eyes blackened by exhaustion, her face still bearing the marks of the table on which she had slept. “What hour is it?”

“Seven in the morning,” I said, much to her shock. “The staff told me that you two spent twelve hours in this room. I was starting to wonder if you’d decided to sleep in it.”

“Time flew by so fast,” Mr. Fronan commented. He appeared in better shape than Marika, although I did not fail to notice the ten empty tea cups at his side. “Those were productive hours, I assure you.”

“I can see that,” I commented while studying the airship model. This one differed from the previous small boat design by its length and rigid, oval shape. Its fully constructed counterpart would probably rival battleships in size. “Let me guess, you began working on the airship, only to get distracted somewhere along the line?”

“Astute as ever, but somewhat inaccurate,” Mr. Fronan replied with a guilty chuckle. “I would say we completed our design.”

“Then we started considering ways to protect passengers in case the ship crashed, and explored a few new ideas,” Marika said while waving a hand at their inventions. “These are the results.”

“And the Snowdrift replica?” I asked her.

“Oh, that?” Marika scoffed. “We got bored halfway through, and Marwen asked me how Snowdrift looked from above.”

“Marwen?” I noted with a smile.

“When you spend a night building a city’s replica with someone, you end up on a first-name basis with them.” Marika crossed her arms and glared at me. “It’s your fault, Robin.”

“How so?” I scoffed. “I wasn’t there.”

“Your silliness has rubbed off on me,” she complained. “First, I indulge my son too much, and now I build city replicas that will last until dinnertime.”

“Might I suggest a more productive use of it?” I asked playfully. “How about I go grab a Board & Conquest game, split the miniatures between us, and then challenge you over control of Snowdrift? This will let us test your models in true battle conditions.”

Marika laughed back, and my suggestion brought an amused smile to Mr. Fronan’s face.

“Game on,” Marika said before yawning at me. “But after I take a nap first.”

“Can you stay up a little longer, please?” I asked kindly. “I’ve found a merchant willing to supply us with Alfland silk.”

Mr. Fronan’s head perked up in interest. “Alfland silk, you say?”

“Fine,” Marika said with a groan. “But I’ll need a stimulant.”

Ten minutes and a cup of coffee later, the three of us welcomed Aiglemont to the drawing room. The beastkin arrived with the supply of candles I requested, including the one with Eris’ name on it.

“What are you going to do with all that wax?” Marika asked me. My purchase dumbfounded her. “Start a church?”

“I’ll use it all to run an experiment related to the soundstone project,” I replied, much to Mr. Fronan’s interest. “I put Soraseo on the case.”

“Lady Soraseo?” Mr. Fronan asked with narrowed eyes. “Forgive my impertinence, but she struck me more as a warrior than a scientist. I draw a blank at how she could contribute to the project.”

“You’d be surprised,” I replied with a smile. “Come back to check on our progress in a few days. I hope to have a breakthrough to present to you by then.”

“You certainly have my curiosity.” Mr. Fronan focused back on Aiglemont. “But enough digression. We have wasted enough of this young man’s time.”

“Worry not, Lord Fronan, it is an honor for me to deal with such an esteemed merchant,” Aiglemont said before turning to me. I could tell he had been dying to ask me a certain question. “Forgive me, Lord Waybright, but are you the Merchant perchance? I have heard rumors that they would represent the King of Archfrost in Walbourg.”

“I am indeed,” I said, while carefully avoiding any mention of Marika or Mr. Fronan’s own Classes, just in case. “I hope it won’t cause any issues with our current agreement?”

“Absolutely not.” Aiglemont bowed in respect. “I am flustered that such a great figure of the realms would agree to deal with a humble beastkin such as myself.”

“Beastkin or human, I treat all my suppliers fairly,” I promised. “Now, let us discuss that silk purchase…”

The rest of the discussion focused on the quantity we required, associated costs, and timelines of delivery. To my surprise, my associates only needed about two-hundred pounds of Alfland silk; extremely expensive, but nowhere near what I would expect from a balloon meant to support a warship’s worth of weight.

“That’s a lighter quantity than I expected,” I whispered into Marika’s ear while Mr. Fronan discussed with Aiglemont. I was thankful for it considering the price, but nonetheless surprised.

“We don’t need silk for the entire envelope, only key parts of it,” Marika whispered back. “We’ll separate the balloon into various compartments along the length. We can use cheaper materials for most of them, like essence-reinforced linen or goldbeater's skin.”

“Goldbeater’s skin?” I raised an eyebrow upon recognizing the term. “Cattle intestines?”

“Have you seen how a cow farts, Robin?” Marika smirked at me. “They can hold a lot of gas.”

“I’ll offer a silent prayer to all the cows that will need to die for us to conquer the sky,” I mumbled. “Their sacrifice will be long remembered.”

“Since you ask for unprocessed silk in bulk, I believe I can obtain the quantity you seek for five hundred silver per pound,” Aiglemont finally said. “One hundred thousand silver for the entire shipment.”

Which translated to four-thousand gold coins according to the current exchange rates; a sum equaling a fifth of the Brynslow administration’s yearly revenue prior to my reforms. Quite pricey. And that would be just for a part of the airship’s envelope.

Even with the funding we’d secured, the costs we could keep down, and our Classes’ powers to call upon, building a complete airship would be a make-or-break project for the Frostfox Company, but I deeply believed in it. Conquering the sky would not only change trade as we knew it; it would change the world.

It would be up to me to fulfill that lofty ambition while managing our expenses.

“My power lets me magically transport objects from afar shortly after a contract’s signature,” I informed Aiglemont. “If you have stocks of unprocessed silk available, I can bring it to Walbourg in a short time.”

“Incredible,” Aiglemont muttered to himself. “That would erase the shipping cost. I would need to send a letter to my partners first, however. If they see our goods vanish out of thin air, they will cry theft.”

“Of course, of course,” I reassured him before going on the offensive. “Additionally, I must mention that we intend to use this silk for a public project that will provide excellent publicity for the solidity and quality of Alfland silk to all of Archfrost and beyond. It would be in your suppliers’ interest to make us a good offer…”

After a vigorous negotiation, I managed to drive down the price to three thousand and six hundred for two hundred pounds of Alfland silk. Aiglemont informed us he would need to talk with his suppliers first before confirming the sale, which was fair; he promised to return in a few days’ time to either confirm or cancel the deal. We bade him goodbye and promised to wait eagerly for his answer.

“I know I’m the one who came up with the idea of an airship in the first place, Robin, but are you sure about this purchase?” Marika asked us once servants escorted Aiglemont away. “It’ll cost a fortune.”

“I’ll only go for it if we can’t produce the silk ourselves,” I replied, which I doubted was in the cards. “Do you think Colmar’s power could produce similar material?”

“No,” Marika conceded. “The monarchs use secret witchcrafting processes to refine their silk, and Colmar can’t copy those. We could use cheaper material, but it would increase the risks.”

“I would not recommend it,” Mr. Fronan noted grimly. “A ship’s crew might swim to safety if it sinks, but a falling airship risks killing everyone onboard.”

“Agreed, and we’ll need the test run to go smoothly to secure further investments,” I said. “The way I see it, I’ll commission Colmar to transmute what material he can produce back in Snowdrift, transport it to a place where we can process it with the right contracts, and then purchase what his power can’t make.”

“My company has offices in Walbourg, including warehouses, where we can assemble pieces and workers to assist in the ship’s construction,” Mr. Fronan reminded us. “Between your power and Marika’s, we could build the new airship prototype in a moon’s turn.”

“Just in time for the Estate-Generals’ conclusion,” I guessed after running some quick calculus in my head. “We could fly it back to the capital for our return trip as a test run.”

“That would definitely leave an impression,” Marika conceded. “Would it be wise to assemble it in Walbourg? What if the local government tries to seize it?”

“They won’t,” I reassured her. And if they tried, I would use my power to transport the ship to safety. “Besides, I intend to approach Griselda as a potential investor. Even if we settle on a peace agreement, Archfrost and Walbourg need to build more economic ties to grow closer.”

“A wise move,” Mr. Fronan commented. “The airship project could become a symbol of the country’s reconciliation. Common projects build a sense of shared purpose.”

That was my hope. I hoped to secure trade agreements to supplement the peace treaty. People were less likely to go to war with their economic partners.

“How about you show me what other wonders you came up with?” I asked these two after glancing at their creations. “I’m dying to know.”

“Uh, maybe later?” Marika asked with a tired grumble. “I need a nap first.”

“I must go visit my offices too,” Mr. Fronan informed me. “I should be back by the afternoon.”

“Fine, fine.” I chuckled. “I can wait.”

“I will be on my way then.” Mr. Fronan took his leave after shaking hands with us. “Rest well, Marika.”

“I’m pleased to see you two get along,” I informed Marika after we split up and moved upstairs. I only had to follow the song of Soraseo’s biwa echoing in the corridors to find her room; I had a wax delivery to make.

“He’s very pleasant company,” Marika said as we climbed the stairs together.

I immediately noticed her taking the wrong turn as she followed me. “I thought your room was in the western wing?”

“I’m going to visit Soraseo too,” she replied. “Gonna ask her for a power massage.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A power massage?”

“She has a technique where she hits your nerves and knocks you out cold. I think she calls them pressure points or something like that? It puts you in a deep sleep immediately. You can recover a full night’s worth of it in hours.” Marika stifled a laugh. “You didn’t know?”

“No, I did not,” I replied. “I never asked either. I could also sell off your exhaustion to someone, if you prefer a quicker solution.”

“Pfft, you can’t solve all your problems with magic, Robin,” Marika replied with a playful wink. Damn it, I did rub off on her. “You should try more natural solutions.”

“You can take a punch to the face and sleep soundly too,” I joked back as we reached and knocked on the door of Soraseo’s room. Our friend interrupted her song just long enough to invite us in.

As expected from her, Soraseo’s chambers were a model of grace and organization. Our friend had used her time to lower her personal table closer to the ground by cutting its legs, removing the chairs, and setting a wide carpet on which to sit. Only the bed remained untouched.

I rarely saw Soraseo without her armor, but she apparently felt comfortable enough in the manor to play the biwa in a garment similar to the one she wore at the Snowdrift Ball: an indigo, long-sleeved cotton bathrobe bound by a sash, alongside a pair of socks and sandals.

“Good morning, Soraseo,” Marika greeted her. “You look lovely.”

“Those are new?” I asked, pointing at the robes.

“Marika wove it for me with her power,” Soraseo replied while pinching her biwa’s strings. Two soundstones sitting on the table in between a teapot and some cups recorded her melodies for posterity’s sake. “Greetings, my friends.”

“So that’s what you were doing up here?” Marika said upon examining the two soundstones. “You’re recording your country’s songs?

“A year would not be enough to play them all,” Soraseo replied humbly. “I have learned only a few. I should finish by nightfall.”

“A day’s worth of your songs are a priceless gift to me,” I complimented her. Doubly so since Soraseo was an excellent player. “How do you find the soundstones?”

“They are very sensible… sensitive?” Soraseo nodded to herself. “They listen to every sound. I must play in solitude so as not to taint the melody.”

Marika shifted uncomfortably. “Do you want us to leave or…”

“No need,” Soraseo reassured her. “I was… testing the sound? Yes, testing. Robin asked me to.”

“Is that why you use two of them?” Marika asked. “To compare?”

“No, the second soundstone is for Beni,” I replied, much to Marika’s surprise. “You thought I would buy Eris a gift and not get one for him? You know how much he loves witchcrafting.”

“He would appreciate the gift for sure,” Marika said warmly. I could tell she appreciated the small kindness. “Anyway, how are you testing the soundstones exactly?”

“You see, Mr. Fronan found a very ingenious method to record sound,” I explained to Marika. “The soundstones work by soaking up variations in wind essence, then translating it into a runic language on its surface. Once a sound is recorded, it can then replay it by producing its own wind and vibrations.”

“It’s a marvel of witchcrafting,” Marika muttered. She didn’t hide her amazement. “Marwen truly is a genius.”

“Unfortunately soundstone can only hold limited information, must play a record from start to finish, and is quite expensive,” I continued. “I’ve been trying to think this through, and I believe that this innovation’s value is in recording and translating information into sound form, not as a repository. The soundstones don't have to keep the knowledge. It only needs to record and read it.”

“Ah, I get it!” Marika smirked ear to ear. “You wish to record the runic language on wax, then find a way for the soundstone to read them! You’ll treat the soundstones as portable libraries and store the content on another medium!”

“Pretty much,” I confirmed before presenting Soraseo with my candle bounty. “I figured that since sound is the movement of air, Soraseo’s Class would give her insight into the process.”

“I do have understanding now,” Soraseo confirmed. She began to study one of the shaved candles, tracing thin lines along its surface with her nail. “A song is a wave.”

I wondered what she meant until I studied the candle. The lines she traced followed an oscillation pattern, some lines larger, others deeper, all of them interwoven. My mind couldn’t interpret these movements into sounds, but I trusted Soraseo’s expertise.

“Interesting,” I said. “Do you think we could connect the soundstones to the candle with, say, a needle?”

Soraseo frowned in confusion. “A needle?”

“Just bouncing ideas around,” I said. “Those lines of yours are awfully thin. You’ll need a very sensitive device to write them down.”

“Smart choice to use wax,” Marika commented as she studied Soraseo’s inscriptions. “Soft enough to inscribe the vibrations, durable, and easy to reuse by shaving down the surface.”

“That’s my plan,” I confirmed with a sharp nod. “If we can create an apparatus that connects the soundstones to a wax cylinder, then the former could record and sing information in real time.”

“I’d be happy to help you build one, Robin… after my nap.” Marika turned to Soraseo. “Mind giving me a massage again?”

“I would be happy to,” Soraseo replied. “How long?”

“How long?” I repeated, now deeply curious. “You can control the length of sleep?”

“I can make the sleep last many hours,” Soraseo explained calmly. “Or forever.”

How ominous. I politely declined the proposition, but watched Marika undergo the procedure out of curiosity. Soraseo lay her friend on her bed—clearly, she didn’t mind letting a friend use it—joined her index and middle fingers together, then quickly jammed them at points along Marika’s spine. She moved so fast that my eyes struggled to follow.

The result was spectacular. Marika fell asleep in a second’s time, and so deeply that she didn’t react when I snapped my fingers by her ear.

“How long have you been doing this?” I asked Soraseo. I felt like I’d stumbled on a secret world hidden from me.

“Many weeks,” she replied with a hint of amusement at my cluelessness. “You should try one day.”

“I will,” I replied with a shrug. “Anyway, I must go write boring documents.”

“You can stay if you want to work here, Robin,” Soraseo proposed. “Music sharpens the focus, and I have tea.”

“My presence won’t bother you?”

Soraseo smiled with regal dignity. “I would appreciate your company.”

When she put it this way, how could I refuse her invitation? A few minutes later I returned with quills and paper, then started working to the soothing tune of Soraseo’s biwa and Marika’s occasional snoring. Working while sitting on a carpet was a novel experience. Deeply uncomfortable at first, until I got used to it after a few hours.

Soraseo was right though. Her music did help me focus on the mind-numbing task of summarizing my exchanges with Duchess Griselda in paper form, alongside a few suggestions Selestine had provided at our meeting yesterday. I hoped to secure her support and that of the Reformists in the peace process with a few well-chosen concessions.

“I do wonder why you got rid of the chairs,” I told Soraseo as she took a break from playing.

“I have apologies for the accommodations.” Soraseo poured three cups of tea; I assumed it meant Marika would wake up soon. “Chairs take space and restrict movement. Our islands are small, but our people are many.”

“I would love to visit the Shinkoku one day,” I said. The place sounded about as exotic as the Fire Islands in its own way.

“Me too,” I heard Marika mutter from the bed. She stretched beneath the bedsheet, fully rested. “They say the best weapon exorcists live there. Would be nice to compare techniques.”

“My lands are beautiful,” Soraseo conceded with a sigh. She didn’t say anything else, nor did she need to. Her sadness was clear for all to see.

“I don’t know the exact details of your banishment,” I said, though I did my suspicions. “However, you weren’t the Monk then, nor did you have friends among the Heroes. Any sane government would reassess your case considering these circumstances.”

Soraseo brought her teacup to her lips with a sorrowful look. “I was told to return with Mother, or not at all.”

My stomach lurched. A grim picture of the situation quickly formed in my mind. Soraseo accidentally killed her mother, the Shinkoku’s empress, in circumstances that still escaped me and that my friend deeply regretted. In response, her father banished her and gave her an impossible task: to revive the very person she’d murdered.

“That’s why you want to reach the Deadgate: to bring her back,” I surmised. Soraseo confirmed my supposition with a sharp look. “You know that even if you reach it, that place only allows us to contact the dead? It won’t bring her back.”

“I have awareness. I… I am aware.” Soraseo gathered her breath and mustered all her dignity. “I have found peace with it. All I want now is… to apologize.”

Marika, who had fully woken up, quickly moved to sit next to Soraseo and took her hand into her own. “You’ll return home one day,” she said warmly. “And we’ll find a way to reach that gate, if that’s what you need. Don’t torture yourself over it.”

“I am not harming myself,” Soraseo countered without pushing Marika away. “I thank you nonetheless.”

I was about to suggest we visit the markets to change the subject when a familiar cloud of smoke popped up next to me.

“My, you all look so gloomy,” Eris complained. My favorite nun casually dropped a bag full of scrolls and letters onto the floor. “Has our Druid died again while I was away?”

“You’re mean,” I chided her before inviting her to sit.

“Eris, good to see you again.” Marika quickly exchanged a quick hug with the newcomer. “My poor girl, you look exhausted.”

“A Wanderer’s lot is suffering,” Eris replied with a hand on her chest while Soraseo kindly went to grab a new teacup from among her belongings to serve her. “Thankfully, those headaches might start sorting themselves out. I bring good news.”

My head perked up in interest. “For once?”

“Indeed!” Eris grinned as Soraseo poured her tea. “The capital has fallen this morning. The Siege of Whitethrone is over.”

“Roland won?” Marika asked while I mulled over the consequences. I never doubted his eventual victory; I only feared its potential consequences.

“The royal army woke up one day to find Whitethrone’s garrison hauling the Regent in chains and throwing him at Roland’s feet,” Eris confirmed. “They weren’t keen on dying for a doomed cause, I suppose.”

“Wise of them,” I said while sipping my tea. What a delicious Seukaian blend. “And Roland? How is he handling his victory?”

“Pretty well.” Eris shrugged her shoulders. “Roland has agreed to an amnesty for those who turned their cloak for him. Meanwhile, his uncle and closest supporters will be tried and probably executed.”

“Good,” I said. I couldn’t fault Roland for executing the leader of an insurrection, even a family member. I was reassured he at least agreed to show mercy to those who returned to his side instead of cutting off heads left and right. It seemed Cortaner managed to keep him in check. “He’s learning.”

“He has a good teacher,” Eris mused. “I heard his fiancé convinced him to show mercy.”

“Therese will make a good queen,” I said. I took the news as a good sign. Even if Roland did not love his future wife, he at least seemed to follow my advice to befriend and cooperate with her. “The civil war has ended before it could truly begin.”

“If you can convince Walbourg and Archfrost to get along, at least.” Eris peeked over my papers. “Is that what I think it is?”

“It is,” I replied with the same conspiratory tone. “Here’s the super secret treaty project I would need you to deliver to Roland.”

The draft’s spirit was simple, its letter complex. In short, Roland would agree to the formation of a parliamentary body for the Kingdom of Archfrost meant to represent the interests of its people. The organization would include two chambers, one to represent the nobles and the Kingdom’s religious orders, the other to represent the cities and peasantry, and for both to gain oversight over the realm’s taxes and finances. This should solve the issues that caused the original civil war by letting the taxpayers gain a voice in the process.

In return, Walbourg would agree to rejoin the Kingdom. Its Estate-Generals would merge with the new parliament, the duchess and her supporters would swear allegiance to Archfrost’s monarchy, and receive amnesty for their past transgressions.

This agreement’s finer details would be backed by my power. The signatories would sell away their institutions’ ability to wage war on one another, thus preventing the monarchy and the parliament’s representatives from ever engaging in a civil war again.

The nobles would no doubt believe that this arrangement favored them. After all, they would gain the ability to check the monarch’s decisions. Who cared if a few commoners and cities could participate in the assembly too? Like all people who had inherited power rather than earned it, I suspected most well-born people in Archfrost expected to keep it forever.

But I saw further into the future. Once the common people had tasted power, they would always want more; and since they represented the majority of people, they would slowly turn to their legislators for leadership rather than their noble overlords. I had left opportunities for the parliament and the monarchy to modify election rules through consensus. I expected the representative chambers to slowly gain power as the decades and centuries passed.

This would take time. Unlike the Riverland Federation, Archfrost didn’t yet have a robust merchant class who could challenge the nobles for leadership. It would only develop one and other political alternatives if peace lasted.

If.

“I need Roland to at least agree with the treaty’s general guidelines before I can push it to Walbourg’s leadership,” I told Eris. “If he does, then I can work out the details.”

“Let me take a look.” Eris snatched my draft up in one fell swoop. She chuckled several times as she read it. “Seems quite bold, but your ship is swimming towards a big pointed reef.”

I sighed, knowing the problem. “Religion.”

I understood the issue very well. I had to surrender a Reformist to the Arcane Abbey’s own courts early in my career in Snowdrift. The Kingdom of Archfrost’s monarchy derived its legitimacy from the Arcane Abbey, which had crowned the first king centuries ago and remained the state’s religion ever since. The pro-Reformist Walbourg would not accept a deal that involved recognizing the Abbey’s primacy over them.

I was currently hoping to hammer out a compromise where the Kingdom of Archfrost would recognize the Arcane Abbey as the religion of most of its citizens—not the state itself—while still recognizing the rights of other cults to practice their faith. That was the only agreement I could find that the two sides could agree upon, but it would require convincing the leaders.

“A vast issue,” Marika mentioned warily. “How are discussions going on that front?”

“Could be worse,” Eris conceded. “The western Reformists are likely to declare their independence from the Arcane Abbey soon, with the Priest as their figurehead. I am desperately trying to avoid a brutal schism.”

“But the split is inevitable,” Soraseo surmised.

“At this point? Yes, it is.” Eris let out a heavy sigh. “There are bad and good divorces. I’m hoping for an amicable one.”

Marika’s jaw tightened at the mention of divorce, but she didn’t comment on it.

“That draft is quite the hefty document, handsome,” Eris complained after rolling up my scroll. “Do I look like a pack mule to you?”

“Sorry, it’s too heavy for a messenger bird,” I joked before presenting her with her candle gift. “I hope this will make up for the hassle.”

“Do you think you can buy my indulgence, Robin?” Eris accepted my bribe by pecking me on the cheek, a gesture that amused our fellow Heroes. “Well, you’re right.”

“Good to know,” I joked back before making a swift move. “Are you busy tonight?”

“I am always busy, handsome.” Eris’ expression softened slightly, and disappointment sank in my heart. “I must return to Erebia and report to Lady Alexios for now. I don’t know when I’ll come back.”

My jaw tightened. Marika’s eyes moved from Eris to me, while Soraseo appeared slightly concerned.

“I see,” I said, mostly because there was nothing more to say for now.

“I’ll try to pay you a visit shortly.” Eris searched inside her bag and tossed us some documents. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve got mail for each of you.”

I raised an eyebrow upon checking mine. I’d received two letters, one from Alaire, the other from Colmar. Meanwhile, Marika eagerly read a message from her son. Soraseo’s mail included a scroll bound by pink wax, though I did not recognize the petal-shaped seal.

“I must go now,” Eris said after rising to her feet. “Don’t burn the city down while I’m gone, please. I need a vacation.”

“I can’t promise anything,” I replied playfully as I watched her teleport away. And like a burst of wind, she always leaves a void after she departs.

I quickly read over my correspondence, starting with Alaire, whom I feared for the safety of since the debacle with her father. Thankfully, she was well. She reported a stark increase in beastmen encampments beyond the northern border, which supported the looming risk of an invasion, but Florence remained in custody and our reforms in Snowdrift breathed new life into the city. No signs of her father either.

“I have given thought to the Brynslow legacy,” I read in my mind. “I believe I have reached a conclusion. I cannot tell yet if it is the correct one, and I cannot select this path until peace returns to Archfrost… but it is the path I intend to walk. I shall tell you more once we meet again.”

Always the curt one, Alaire, I mused. I was happy she had reached a conclusion about her family history, whatever it might be. Colmar’s letter was more straightforward, reporting on his observations on Snowdrift’s Blight and the continued delivery of essence-charged runestones from the Mage. He also asked for input on the airship’s project development. He’ll be pleased.

How strange. I should feel happy reading these letters. After months of hard work, Snowdrift had bounced back from decline—in spite of the simmering civil war. Once we destroyed the Blight, and if we managed to secure a lasting peace in Archfrost, my home city wouldn’t need my help anymore. It would manage without me.

I should be happy to know that my community would thrive on its own. I’d worked tirelessly to ensure it. So why did I feel morose rather than triumphant?

Marika laughed over her letter, so at least one of us rejoiced.

“Let me guess,” I said after setting aside my own letters. “After spending too much time at the shipyard, Beni has decided to become a pirate.”

“Almost,” Marika replied with a giggle. “Now that he knows I’m working on a flying machine, he’s wondering when we can become sky pirates.”

“We?” I chuckled at the idea of robbing birds. “Does that include poor law-abiding me?”

“Of course it does. You’re his big brother figure.” Marika folded the letter, but proved unable to suppress her laughs. “He really wants to learn wind magic now.”

“We would make a fearsome pirate crew,” I joked. “Colmar could be our leg-sawing doctor, you the daring captain, and I the foul-mouthed treasurer.”

“Maybe.” Marika turned to Soraseo. “Would you like to become my fearsome first mate?”

The joke washed over Soraseo like water on a smooth stone. I doubted she even heard us. Her eyes fixated on her scroll’s contents with a sharp, absolute focus that sent chills down my spine. Her skin had turned paler than chalk.

Not a good sign.

“Seo?” Marika frowned, her joy turning to concern. “Seo, what’s wrong?”

Soraseo folded the scroll with hollow eyes. The sight immediately raised alarm bells in my head. I’d only seen her so shaken once; the night after Belgoroth viciously taunted her about her mother’s murder.

“Soraseo, what’s going on?” I asked her, my hand immediately reaching for her shoulder. “Tell us.”

“I… I would like to be alone for now,” Soraseo said, her voice breaking. “Can you forgive me for a moment?”

Something was wrong.

Marika and I exchanged a worried glance. From the look in her eyes, she wanted to stay, but I simply shook my head. I understood Soraseo. She was the kind of person who needed to meditate in solitude to clear her mind. I couldn’t say what spooked her so harshly, but if she asked for a moment to breathe, then she deeply needed some space.

“Sure,” I said. “We’re here if you need us. When you need us.”

“We’ll come check later,” Marika promised. “Very soon.”

Soraseo did not bother to answer us. Her hands held onto the folded scroll as if it were her sword, her gaze cast down as if trying to peer into the earth’s bowels. She didn’t reach for her instrument either like she often did. Neither Marika nor I lingered much.

“What happened?” Marika asked me after we closed the room’s door behind us. “Did you catch a glimpse of the message?”

“No, but for her to react like this it must involve the Shinkoku.” I could muster a guess. “Another family loss perhaps.”

“She mentioned her father,” Marika muttered. “Does she have siblings?”

That seemed likely to me. “Vernisla called her the First Princess, which implies there are others.”

“I hope it’s not too bad.” Marika clenched her jaw, her hand moving to scratch the back of her head. “But…”

“But you’re not that naive,” I guessed.

Marika shook her head sadly. There were few feelings worse than feeling concern for a friend, but being unable to reach out to them. For now, we could only wait for Soraseo to gather her thoughts.

“You said you would show me your inventions,” I told Marika. It sounded as good a distraction as any.

“Yeah,” Marika replied. She was just as eager as I was to change the subject. “Yeah, I did promise you that.”

We climbed back down to the drawing room, both of us doing our best to think of more productive matters. As it turned out, Marika and Mr. Fronan had considered a few ways to protect an airship’s crew in case of trouble. Her first idea had been to bind a pack of cloth to a light wooden frame that would catch the air, creating resistance and allowing a person to descend slowly from a great height. The idea was ingenious, but I would add a harness to it for added safety.

“That one I came up with on my own,” Marika said as she presented me with a leather suit with a metal helmet and tubes. “According to Marwen, after a while the change in atmospheric pressure prevents people from breathing correctly, so I developed packs that can hold fresh air while limiting buoyancy. The system would allow the crew to exit the airship safely in dangerous conditions and do repairs while in flight.”

“Interesting,” I muttered. I immediately considered another environment in which that kind of suit might help. “How about underwater?”

“Huh?” Marika elegantly grunted.

“Can your suit work underwater?” I asked her. “Remember how the beastkin managed to blindside us by hiding within the river? Underwater scouts would let us avoid a similar ambush. Seems to me that your suit would work just as well underwater.”

“You might be onto something.” Marika put her hands on her waist, her eyes shining with hope. “You believe I could sell this?”

“You could, once you reinforce the design to deal with deep water pressure,” I suggested. The perks of buying the skills of diving fishermen. “It would allow explorers to gather material deep under the surface. Maybe open up new economic opportunities.”

Marika smiled ear to ear. She glanced at me for a moment, her cheeks stark red, then focused back on the suit.

“Come on, say it,” I teased her. “You’re clearly dying to compliment me and too embarrassed to try.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way, Robin, but the first time we met I was highly suspicious of you.” Marika focused on the suit design with a wide, unwavering smirk. “Your smooth-talker charm reminded me a bit too much of Will’s.”

I figured as much. “I hope I left a better second impression.”

“You did, once I realized that you always mean it when you compliment someone.” Marika traced a line over the suit’s tube with her hand. “I asked you if I could sell this. Will would have answered that we could. You? You said I could be fine if I decided to market it on my own.”

“You would. I have faith in you.” Since the moment we met. “I mean, I would love to help you mass-produce this wonder, but it’s your invention. You’re entitled to profit from it.”

“That’s the thing. The thought of creating my own stuff wouldn’t have entered my mind two years ago. I always went along with whatever Will wanted.” Her eyes moved to her last invention, a suit of knightly armor. “I still am, in a way.”

I raised an eyebrow and then raised the armor’s visor. I found myself staring at wood gears and other mechanical contraptions within. This suit was never meant to be worn.

“A golem,” I said. I immediately guessed what she had in mind. “You tried to make a golem.”

Marika nodded shyly. “It’s gonna sound stupid, Robin.”

“It won’t,” I reassured her. “I won’t judge either way.”

“Thanks.” Marika crossed her arms. “I want to beat Will at his own game. To prove I could do better, and create a golem that doesn’t require screaming souls to walk around.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” I argued. “Especially not to him.”

“You’re sweet, Robin, but you’re also wrong. I need to prove something. To myself.” Marika shrugged her shoulders. “That’s why I want to settle things with Will for good. So I can tell myself that Beni and I never needed him. Childish as it sounds, I want to prove that I was too good for him.”

“You were too good for him,” I insisted. “He builds weapons for a demon, you’re building a brighter future for everyone.”

Marika chuckled in embarrassment, her face now about as red as her hair. I found the sight highly amusing.

“Stop complimenting me, Robin,” she begged me. “I can’t handle compliments.”

“But deep down, you like them,” I teased her. “So get used to it.”

“I swear to the Goddess, I’ll find a way to shame you too.” Marika snorted. “How are things going with Eris, by the way?”

What a subtle attempt at changing the subject. “It’s complicated.”

Marika stifled a laugh. “It always is with you.”

“I’ve got a confession to make, Marika.” I gathered my breath and let go of a deep secret consuming me from the inside. “I love women.”

Now she failed to hold back her laughter. “Yes, I’ve noticed.”

“I love flirting with them, I love kissing them, and I love carrying them to bed,” I said shamelessly before letting out a sigh. “But there’s something that brings me more joy, and that’s seeing someone’s face next to me when I wake up in the morning.”

“Yeah.” Marika avoided my gaze. “I see what you mean.”

“When there’s someone next to me, a partner that has my back, I feel I can do anything.” I shook my head in remembrance. “I thought I had it with Mersie back in the day. That sense of completion.”

“Funny. I thought I had the same thing with Will.” Marika shook her head. “But in the end, I never truly knew him.”

“Neither did I know Mersie.” I counted myself lucky that she never tried to murder me at least. “Eris has her own issues. She can hardly trust herself, let alone me.”

“I figured.” Marika raised an eyebrow at me. “So the two of you will just stay… very good friends?”

I scoffed. The more I heard that expression, the less amusing it became.

“For now at least,” I conceded. “Maybe it’ll be more one day. I assume I’ll eventually find a steady partner, whether it’s Eris or someone else.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a case of bad luck, Robin,” Marika replied. “Truth be told, I don’t think that you stumble on issues when it comes to troubled women. I suspect you’re attracted to troubled women because they have issues.”

My first instinct was to laugh off at her words, but for some reason they left me a little shaken. I mulled over Marika’s point. It was true that I tended to gravitate towards women with problems of their own. I tried to think of a past girlfriend who had been entirely well-adjusted and came up short.

“Every time you stumble on a problem, you throw yourself at it,” Marika insisted. “Maybe you get involved with people like Mersie or Eris for the same reason you gave your all to restore Snowdrift: because deep down you think you can ‘fix’ them?”

Fix? Come to think of it, the thought of completing Snowdrift’s reconstruction did not fill me with as much happiness as I would expect. I’d derived more joy from the process of overcoming the challenges thrown our way than success itself. Maybe Marika was onto something…

“What do you suggest then?” I asked, genuinely curious. “That I should aim for someone more stable to settle down with?”

“Don’t settle down yet,” Marika replied, much to my amusement. “You’re too young for it.”

“You were my age when you did,” I pointed out.

“I don’t regret settling down and having Beni. He’s the best thing that happened to me. But…” Marika scratched her hair. “I often wonder how my life would have gone had I spent a few years fooling around.”

“You can still try,” I teased her. “You’re young too.”

“I’m thirty and with a son, Robin,” Marika replied dismissively. “I’m way past that stage.”

“Beni is on the other side of the country, and we’ll only stay in this city for a few weeks,” I countered with a mischievous wink. “If you want to engage in a secret tryst with a dashing young aristocrat during our stay, I’ll keep your secret. What happens in Walbourg stays in Walbourg.”

“You won’t fluster me so easily, Robin.” Still, my suggestion brought a smile to her lips. “But if you’re serious about this binding pact, I wouldn’t mind the two of us hitting a tavern one night. I can’t stand noble balls.”

“Anytime, Marika.”

Marika’s smile faded away. “More seriously Robin, I settled down with Will much too early,” she confessed. “And because I did not have enough experience, I stayed blind to warning signs I should have noticed much earlier. Don’t jump into the first relationship you think will last.”

“I will keep that in mind,” I replied.

“I wouldn’t give up on Eris either,” Marika concluded. “I don’t think it’s as hopeless as you fear. The two of you… I can’t properly explain, but I feel there’s a unique spark between you. A special connection none of us have.”

If only she knew.

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Next Chapter 

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A/N: phew, that was a big one. But yeah, Robin being somewhat 'addicted' to fixing people and places for the challenge has been something of a pattern with him. It might cause him issues of his own ;)