Prince Darian was the first to step down from the airship, his cloak snapping in the breeze as he strode quickly toward me. I stood waiting, Seraphina’s hand steadying mine.

  “Earl Robertson,” he said the moment he drew near, his eyes flicking past me toward the tower’s immense doors. “I gather your plan worked?”

  “Yes,” I replied, keeping my voice level despite the ache still running through my bones. “I am now the master of this tower.”

  Behind him, Vaktar emerged, boots striking the flagstones with the measured weight of a soldier. The Prince stiffened at his sudden presence but masked it quickly.

  “So,” Darian asked again, his tone probing, “what are your plans now?”

  “Right now,” I said, glancing past him to the crowd of shaken passengers filtering out of the Enterprise, “is to make sure everyone here is safe. After that… I’ll need a few days of rest.” I shifted my gaze to Vaktar. “Could you arrange for several carriages to be sent?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Vaktar answered without hesitation.

  The Prince started slightly, surprised by the ease of the reply. I caught the flicker of unease on his face; he hadn’t realized how far Vaktar’s loyalties had tilted.

  “Prince Darian,” I continued, “do you wish to send any message to King Theran?”

  “You can reach him?” His brows rose.

  “I cannot,” I said with the faintest smile. “But I have ways.”

  The Prince didn’t press, though his eyes narrowed with curiosity. “Then yes. Tell him I wish to speak with him as soon as possible.”

  “You needn’t wait,” Vaktar spoke up from behind him, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Carriages and the King are already awaiting your arrival.”

  Darian froze a fraction of a second before composing himself, turning back to me with a low whistle. “You never stop amazing us, Earl Robertson.”

  I inclined my head slightly, but the weariness tugging at my body made it hard to stand tall. “Prince Darian, I’m leaving the matter of disembarkation to my wives.” I turned, gesturing toward the passengers. “Marlena. Allira. Could you handle this?”

  They both nodded, already stepping forward.

  “Melissa,” I said.

  The tower’s attendant bowed with mechanical grace. “Yes, Master?”

  “Would you show Seraphina and me to the Master’s residence?”

  “At once.”

  I gave the Prince a final bow. “I should be well in a couple of days. We’ll station a maid outside like we did in Vaelthorn.”

  Then, leaning into Seraphina’s supportive embrace, I turned and followed Melissa toward the waiting elevator, leaving politics and the noise of voices behind.

  The grand doors swung open, and Prince Darian and his party stepped into the throne room. They paused before King Theran, who sat on his dais in modest regalia. Darian bowed deeply.

  “Prince Darian, please stand,” the King said, descending from the steps with unexpected energy.

  “Thank you, King Theran. I bring you greetings from my father, King Thorne of Vaelthorn.”

  “And I return them gladly,” Theran replied, clasping the Prince’s extended hand. “How was your journey?”

  They moved together toward a long table laden with wine, fruit, and sweetmeats. Servants hovered discreetly as the two sat down.

  “It was luxurious compared to a normal airship voyage,” Darian admitted with a small smile.

  “You’ve traveled by airship before?” Theran asked, pouring his guest a drink.

  “Yes. I visited here once, years ago, using the normal airships. The difference is enormous. Earl Robertson’s vessel was… unlike anything else.”

  General Kitch, standing beside the King, leaned forward slightly. “And what do you make of the Earl himself?”

  “Resourceful. Talented,” Darian answered without hesitation. “More than I expected.”

  Prime Minister Halbrecht, already seated, lifted a glass and swirled its contents with a knowing look. “I must agree. He has resources we could scarcely imagine.”

  “Resources?” the General prompted.

  “Two Towers, combat golems beyond counting, weapons forged with mastery we cannot replicate…” Halbrecht ticked them off like coin tallies. He paused to sample a sugared fig. “And an airship superior to all others.”

  Darian raised three fingers. “Three airships. Two more are waiting in the tower’s hangar. There could be more, but I only saw two others in the hangar.”

  The King exhaled softly. “Three. Remarkable.” His eyes flicked to Kitch, then back to Darian. “And now?”

  “Earl Robertson requested rest,” Darian said. “The burden of claiming the tower has clearly weighed on him. He told me he will be available within two or three days. However, tomorrow, he will place a receptionist at the doorway.”

  The General frowned. “Receptionist?”

  “Yes,” Darian explained. “The Earl is a strange one. In Vaelthorn, he keeps a woman named Misty at the tower’s door to handle all requests. Efficient, though… very unusual.”

  The King’s lips curled faintly. “Unusual seems to follow him.” He considered a moment, then turned. “Prince Darian, you intend to visit him tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Early afternoon, if possible.”

  “Good,” Theran said. His gaze was fixed on Kitch, stern and purposeful. “General, you will accompany the Prince. Deliver this letter to the Earl. And more importantly…” he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, “take his measure. I want to see if the stories match the man.”

  Kitch bowed, grim-faced. “Yes, sire.”

  The general rode at the front of his small group, with six knights and his aide flanking him as they traveled from the training grounds toward the Black Tower. The morning sun was bright, but its warmth couldn’t soften the shadow cast across the market square by the massive structure. It dominated everything, as if the city itself bent around its presence.

  The streets bustled with people, their chatter like a flood of rumors. Snippets reached Kitch’s ears as he guided his horse: invasion force… cursed airship… evil mage-lord returned… Everyone had their own version of yesterday’s chaos, and none of them matched. Even among his own knights, he could sense unease, a few tough men who had faced raiders and monsters now muttered about black-armored giants and a vessel that vanished into the clouds.

  The reports on his desk last night also conflicted with each other. Some claimed the Earl commanded thousands of golems; others said dozens. Some swore he wielded flame and storm like a god, while others whispered he hid behind constructs while collecting wives like trophies. All Kitch knew for certain was that today, at last, he would see the man for himself.

  When they rounded the final corner, the truth hit harder than rumors. A cordon of soldiers held back a restless crowd in front of the tower’s sealed doors, but towering above them were two massive golems. Each one was encased in blackened armor, faceless helms staring straight ahead. They didn’t move, didn’t breathe, yet the weight of their presence pressed down on the square like an impending storm.

  The crowd reluctantly parted to let the general’s party through. Kitch dismounted from his horse, boots hitting the ground with a clatter, and fell in behind Prince Darian.

  Getting closer now, another figure appeared at first glance: a young woman in a maid’s uniform, her hands folded modestly at her waist. But the longer he looked, the more it became clear her stillness was not human. She stood too upright, her eyes too calm. A golem in gentler form, waiting like the others.

  As the Prince neared, the maid inclined her head in a graceful bow. Her voice was smooth and polite but carried an unusual resonance.

  “Good afternoon, Prince Darian. What service can we do for you today?”

  Kitch stiffened when, as if on cue, the towering sentries shifted their gaze downward to pin him where he stood. He forced himself not to move, letting Darian speak.

  “We are here to see your master, if he is available.”

  Master? Kitch’s frown deepened.

  The maid nodded once. “Yes. He is feeling much better and is available for a meeting. Lady Seraphina asks that you be kind; he is still weary from the journey.”

  Darian inclined his head. “Of course. This is a casual visit. I won’t take long.”

  “Thank you. One of my fellow maids will escort you shortly.” She returned to her pose, still as glass.

  Kitch exhaled, realizing only then how tightly he’d been gripping his gauntlets. He turned to his men. “Remain here. We’ll return soon enough.” His aide fell in beside him.

  The tower doors began to open with a grinding thunder. The crowd surged, cries of fear and awe rising, checked only by soldiers shouting orders. Kitch ignored the noise, watching instead as the seam widened into shadow.

  When the doors fully parted, another maid stood waiting, wearing an identical uniform but with subtly different features, a twin forged from the same mold. She bowed low.

  “Prince Darian. If you will, please follow me.”

  The prince strode in without hesitation. Kitch followed, every instinct alive as his boots echoed against stone.

  Two lines of massive constructs waited inside, forming a corridor of black steel and silent menace. Each one tracked him with lifeless eyes. The air smelled faintly of oil and ozone, humming with unseen power.

  The prince walked as though through a palace hallway, untroubled. Kitch had to force himself forward, jaw tight, the eyes of his escort burning into his back. Behind him, the sound of the doors closing echoed like a tomb sealing shut.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  I stood in the living area of the residence when the door opened to admit Prince Darian and his two companions. I gave a slight bow, welcoming them to the tower.

  “Earl Robertson,” Darian greeted warmly, striding across the room to clasp my hand. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” I admitted. “Much better than yesterday, at least.”

  The prince turned and gestured to the man at his side. “This is General Kitch, commander of Eldros’ armies and trusted advisor to the king.”

  The general bowed, precise but not overly deep. A soldier’s respect, not a courtier’s flourish. I stepped forward and offered my hand. His grip was firm, assessing, as though weighing me with that single touch.

  I introduced Seraphina, Marlena, and Allira, and his aide offered them a stiff bow. Before I could speak further, Seraphina slipped her hand into mine and gently but firmly steered me back toward a chair. She remained behind me once I sat, her hand warm on my shoulder, a silent warning to pace myself.

  Darian gave the general a nod. “Go on.”

  Kitch cleared his throat, his voice steady and even. “His Majesty King Theran bids you welcome to Eldros. I will not deny he was caught off guard by your choice to land at the Black Tower first. More so… by the fact that you were able to enter it.” His dark eyes studied me carefully, measuring.

  “Yes,” I said evenly, “there were circumstances at the last moment that dictated I had to come here first. The visit to His Majesty was always intended…”

  Darian stepped in smoothly. “I’ve already explained that, Earl. The airship had to land here first by necessity. You are invited to attend a meeting with the King in two days, once you’ve rested.”

  “Exactly,” I agreed, seizing the rope Darian had tossed me. Then I turned back to Kitch. “So, General, when I go to see King Theran… should I expect a casual meeting between individuals, or the full weight of the court?”

  “The first meeting,” the general said, his posture straightening, “His Majesty has suggested be held with the other members of the Alliance. That includes Queen Elsie Aleryn of Karethuun, Prime Minister Halbrecht of Ironholt, and now Prince Darian, representing his father, King Thorne of Vaelthorn.”

  He gave a subtle nod to his aide. She stepped forward, composed yet cautious, and reached into her satchel. Drawing out an envelope sealed with deep blue wax, she bowed and offered it with both hands.

  I accepted the letter, feeling the sturdy weight of the parchment inside. The seal broke easily under my thumb, and I unfolded the page to read:

  Earl Robertson,

  Welcome to the Kingdom of Eldros. I invite you and your guests to a casual meeting with other members of the Alliance to discuss current events. We would appreciate hearing your thoughts and plans regarding the tower. The meeting is scheduled for a late lunch in two days.

  King Theodore Theran

  I let the words sink in, then handed the parchment to Seraphina, who read it with her usual calm focus.

  “Thank you, General,” I finally said, nodding my head. “I am honored by the invitation and will attend.”

  General Kitch gave a clear nod. “I will inform His Majesty of your acceptance.” He hesitated then, studying me as if weighing his next words. “We will have a carriage arrive here to bring you and your party to the castle. There are… certain questions we would ask of you, if you are willing to answer them.”

  “Yes, if they are not too private,” I replied.

  General Kitch leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp. “We heard you are the Tower Master of the engineering tower in Vaelthorn. What is your status here?”

  “I am also the Tower Master of this one.”

  The General’s face drained a shade paler. He hadn’t been ready for that. The weight of the words settled in the room, heavy as lead.

  “Okay…” he managed. “Do you mind telling me what this tower is?”

  “Let’s see,” I began, careful with my words. “There are many disciplines within the Engineer class. For reference, the Mechanical discipline is the study and use of objects that move. Forgive me if I oversimplify. I tend to get down in the weeds and lose people. The tower in Vaelthorn is dedicated to that discipline. This tower is aligned with another discipline.”

  “I don’t understand these disciplines, Earl,” the General said, his voice cautious.

  “I see mages have affinities, correct?” I asked. Both the General and Prince Darian nodded.

  “We don’t have affinities. We have disciplines. Now this tower is dedicated to Electrical Engineering.”

  Prince Darian frowned, clearly puzzled. “What is this… electrical?”

  I had to breathe before answering. “Lightning. That’s the simplest way to explain it.”

  “You can throw lightning?” the General asked, disbelieving.

  “Well, if you’d seen what happened at Vaelthorn when the demons attacked, then yes.” I leaned back slightly, watching their faces. “But electricity goes far deeper than raw power. It includes… magescript.”

  “Magescript?” Kitch repeated, brow furrowed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.” His aide’s quill scratched furiously across the parchment.

  “Marlena, dear, could you roll up your sleeve?”

  Marlena obeyed, baring the swirling tattoos of luminous blue ink trailing down her arm. I motioned her closer. The light in the room caught the faint golden shimmer now laced through the designs.

  “This,” I said, pointing, “is what I call magescript. It channels her magic from her core. Here…” I traced a line along the scrollwork, my fingertip brushing her skin. “This is a circuit that amplifies the flow across here, then disperses it into a controlled channel.”

  Marlena tried not to giggle at my touch, her cheeks pink. “Thank you, sweetie,” I murmured before looking up.

  Prince Darian leaned forward, eyes wide. “You can read that?”

  “Yes, to a point,” I smiled faintly. “You wanted a demonstration of what electrical engineering can do. What mages have is a natural extension of their classes.”

  Silence. I could see shock etched on their faces.

  “We engineers have the ability, among other things, to add traits to objects in a very similar method.” I nodded to Marlena. “Do you have the dagger?”

  She passed me the wrapped blade. “Here you go.”

  “This,” I said, unwrapping it and holding the dagger to the light, “is a mithril blade with an orichalcum-wrapped hilt. If you touch it carefully, you’ll notice it’s cold. Not unnaturally so, but colder than it should be.” I tilted the blade until the faint script etched down the center caught the light.

  Prince Darian squinted. “Yes… I see something. But I can’t read it.”

  “That is also magescript. Written to siphon a sliver of mana from the wielder and shroud the blade in ice magic.”

  The silence that followed was so thick, I swear I could hear a pin drop. Both the Prince and the General stared at the dagger as if it were a relic from the gods.

  I calmly handed it back to Marlena. “Did I break them?” I asked her, amused.

  “I don’t think so,” she said softly. “This is just… very new to them.”

  “You broke their understanding, babe,” Allira chimed in from the other side of the room, arms crossed but grinning.

  Seraphina only shook her head, mussing my hair.

  Finally, Kitch managed words. “So… you can make magical items? Weapons?”

  “Sure. To me, an item is just an item. The function depends on the script.” I stood, dusting my hands lightly. “But on to better things, are you ready for lunch?”

  “Yes,” Prince Darian said quickly, still staring at Marlena’s dagger like it might leap off a table.

  “Excellent. We have steaks today. Allyson, is it time?”

  From the kitchen, Allyson peeked out. “Yes, master. Lunch can be served now.”

  When we finished our meal, I sat idly at the table, rolling my glass between my hands while my wives finished their plates. Across from me, Prince Darian and General Kitch were helping themselves to a second serving, both men clearly comfortable in my home.

  “General Kitch,” I asked, breaking the lull, “any more questions?”

  He dabbed his mouth with a cloth. “No. The King will be pleased with what you’ve shared.”

  “Good.” I leaned forward, my voice dropping a notch. “Because I have one question in turn.”

  That earned me the full attention of both of them. Even the Prince set down his fork, eyebrows rising.

  “What sort of question?” Kitch asked cautiously.

  “Have you ever heard of the vaults?”

  The words landed like a stone in a still pond. The General froze for the barest moment, then covered it with a sip of wine. His aide blinked, her quill pausing mid-stroke. Across the table, my wives all looked up sharply, Marlena especially, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

  “Where did you hear that?” Kitch asked at last, his tone clipped.

  I spread my hands. “I read a great deal. I came across a reference a few days ago, and it has stuck with me. Intrigued me.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “The vaults are… said to be a fortress, built and used by the last of the Engineers. Their final redoubt. If it exists, it’s somewhere in the Raizor Mountains to the north. But no one knows where.”

  “Interesting,” I murmured.

  “Why?” he pressed.

  I tilted my head, hesitating before answering. “If it truly is an Engineer stronghold… then what’s inside? Can you imagine the relics, the knowledge, the items that might be waiting?”

  That drew silence again. The Prince leaned forward, a smile tugging at his mouth. “I’d say the General just found the perfect man to locate it for him. Who better to uncover an Engineer’s secrets than another Engineer?”

  Kitch’s jaw tightened, though his expression revealed nothing. “That would be the King’s decision. There are already expeditions funded by the Crown two or three times a year. And that doesn’t include the adventurers who try their luck.”

  “All by caravan?” I asked.

  “Yes. It takes at least two weeks just to reach the foothills.”

  I sipped the last of my drink and set the glass down lightly. “Two weeks by caravan, true. But… I happen to know a man with an airship.”

  The Prince laughed outright. Even Kitch’s mouth twitched at the corners. “I’ll bring this before the King,” he said at last.

  He stood, bowing slightly. “Thank you for the meal, Earl Robertson, and for your hospitality.”

  I rose as well, shaking his hand firmly. “And thank you for the visit. Our maid will escort you and your aide. Shall I see you in two days, General?”

  We all retired to the sitting area, leaving the table to the maids. Allira settled beside me this time, while Seraphina and Marlena took their places on my right. Across the low table, Prince Darian and Captain Draemont sat together. The silence lingered, stretched thin, while I noticed the Captain’s eyes locked not on me, but on Allyson and Melissa, where they stood quietly behind. Her gaze was sharp, unrelenting, her hands tightening on her knees.

  The Prince, mercifully, broke the tension. “Earl, why did you ask the General about the Vaults?”

  “Pretty much out of curiosity,” I said with a shrug. “And… because I got a quest.”

  That stopped the room cold. Even Marlena blinked in surprise. “A what?” she echoed.

  “Quests are rare,” Darian said quickly, his tone hushed with respect. “A personal request from the gods themselves.”

  “Rare?” I asked, more to test the weight of his words than anything else.

  “Yes. Very rare,” Allira said, studying me now with concern. “When did this happen?”

  “Remember when I answered that final question from Melissa? When I collapsed? That’s when. I… spoke with something… someone?”

  “You got a quest from the gods?” Darian asked again, his voice caught between awe and disbelief.

  “If that’s what it was, then yes. First time I’ve ever held a conversation while unconscious, so I’ll let you decide what to call it,” I said lightly, trying to keep it from sounding too heavy.

  “What did they ask?” Seraphina leaned forward, tension in her voice.

  “Well,” I began, “after they insulted James T. Kirk…”

  “Who?” Darian asked, brows furrowed.

  “Childhood idol,” I quipped. My three wives chuckled, easing the moment just enough. “The god, as you describe, asked me to travel to the vaults and retrieve certain items before winter. They didn’t say what, exactly.”

  “Now I understand your cryptic question to the General,” Darian said slowly.

  “Yes. Just enough to spark my interest.” My gaze drifted back to Draemont, who still hadn’t taken her eyes off Allyson and Melissa. Angry? Disgusted? I couldn’t quite tell. “Captain Draemont, are you okay?” I asked, giving a slight wave to break her stare.

  “Ah, yes,” she said quickly, though her knuckles were white.

  “I see you watching my assistants. It seems that you have a question?”

  “I… no,” she murmured, looking down. But her hands clenched tighter. Then, finally, she lifted her chin. “Yes, Earl. How could you work with that?” She pointed at Allyson.

  The Prince stiffened. “Captain. That is not appropriate.”

  I turned, looked at Allyson, then back to the Captain. The memory of her earlier unease around my construct clicked into place. “It’s all right. Captain, what is your real question?”

  Her lips thinned. “They’re abominations to the gods. They’re not alive.”

  Shock and outrage flashed across my wives’ faces, ready to spill over, but I raised a hand to stop them. This was mine to handle.

  “Captain,” I said slowly, maintaining a calm tone. “I was raised not to dismiss others’ beliefs. But I am a pragmatist. So I ask myself, what is alive? That simple question touches on philosophy, biology, even faith. The truth? There isn’t one answer. Could all sides be right?”

  “That doesn’t prove they aren’t abominations,” Draemont shot back, her voice sharp, but a flicker of doubt crossed her eyes.

  “True,” I admitted with a nod. “But since lightning hasn’t struck me dead, I assume the gods either accept them… or at least look the other way.” I leaned back, folding my arms.

  “It doesn’t stop the fact that they’re not alive,” she pressed.

  “Not flesh and blood, you mean?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm. Then tell me, is a tree alive? It has no blood. Is an elemental alive? No body of flesh, yet it acts, thinks, and endures. The world is vast, Captain, and definitions aren’t always as neat as we want them to be.” Her brows furrowed, and her jaw worked soundlessly.

  “Captain,” I continued softly, “there’s a saying from where I come from, ‘cogito, ergo sum’. It means ‘I think, therefore I am.’ Self-awareness defines life as much as blood or bone. By that standard, Allyson and Melissa are alive. To me and to my wives.”

  At that, Marlena rested a protective hand on Allyson’s shoulder, while Seraphina’s eyes never left Draemont. Allira crossed her arms, her scowl clearly showing her opinion.

  Draemont looked down again, knuckles still white. She hadn’t been convinced, but she wasn’t dismissing me out of hand anymore either. “I’m sorry, Lord Robertson, for my outburst,” she said at last. Her voice carried stiffness, but there was a shade less heat behind it. Her convictions were still there, but I thought I saw the faintest crack.

  “It’s fine, Captain.” I gave her a slight nod. “I love a good argument. We’re all staring at fragments, reflections on the wall of something greater. Even the wisest can only guess at the whole.”

  Her posture softened, ever so slightly. A hesitant smile tugged at her lips, though her hands were still clenched in her lap. “Thank you, Earl.”

  Marlena leaned back with a quiet breath, Seraphina’s hand softened against my shoulder, and Allira gave a small, approving nod. The tension in the room hadn’t vanished, but it had shifted, easing into something more watchful than hostile.

  Prince Darian rose smoothly, the scrape of his chair loud in the quiet. Captain Draemont followed a beat later, more stiff, her gaze still cautious.

  “With that, Earl,” the prince said, offering me the faintest bow, “as the General informed you, a carriage will be waiting at your entrance in two days to escort you to the capital. I thank you for your hospitality…” his eyes flicked to the remains of the meal, then back to me “and for showing us that you are recovering well.”