Chapter 120: The Architecture of Deception

Waking up in my own bed in Dornheim turned out to be less pleasant than I had anticipated.

​A knock came at the door. It was Darwin. I recognized his hurried, slightly erratic rhythm of footsteps even before he entered.

​"Iron, are you up?" Darwin peered into the room, looking even worse than yesterday. "The Count is already on his feet. He and his alchemist are hovering around the shaft entrance. Walter is demanding we begin the 'tour'."

​I grimaced, tightening the last strap on my prosthetic. The latch gave a quiet click. "Did we not have time to close the passage to the third tier?"

​"That’s the trouble," Darwin lowered his voice to a whisper, though the house was empty. "We blocked the main bulkhead, but the ventilation manifold is still open. If that Alaric sticks his pendulum in there, he’ll feel the airflow from the workshop. And in there, I remind you, three steam hammers and two lathes are currently running."

​I stood up and stretched slightly.

​"Calm down. I’ll take care of it. Just make sure the smiths don't show their faces. Have them pound the anvils in the upper workshops to drown out the hum from below."

​"Understood. We'll do it," Darwin nodded and left quickly.

​It was crowded at the entrance to the "Point No. 1" shaft. Wayland’s guards had cordoned off the coal warehouse in a tight circle. The Count himself stood at the edge of the descending slab, hands folded behind his back. He looked alert and composed. Beside him, the alchemist Alaric was fussing, wiping the lenses of some complex device draped in crystals.

​"Good morning, Your Excellency," I approached them, leaning on my cane.

​"Good morning, Master Iron," Wayland nodded.

​I walked to the control lever. "Alaric, I advise you to put your pendulum away. The flows down there are very unstable... Your crystals might burst."

​"Master, with all due respect to your talents, alchemy is the science of the essence of things," he said, adjusting his glasses.

​Wayland only smirked.

"Leave him, Iron. Alaric is stubborn. If he loses his toys, it will be an excellent lesson. We’re going down."

​We stepped onto the platform. With a light jolt, the hydraulics began lowering us into the dark.

​The light from the guards' torches caught the walls of the shaft from the gloom. Perfectly smooth black composite. Wayland ran his hand over the surface as we drifted past another section.

​"Stunning," he said quietly. "Cold as ice, but hard as diamond."

​I watched the walls intently. Thanks to Lumon, I noticed the thin lines of thermal contours beneath the casing. The "Heart" system was slowly waking up, reacting to our presence. This was dangerous.

​The platform stopped at the first tier. We stepped out into a long corridor.

​Alaric immediately began waving his device.

"There! There it is!" he shouted, pointing toward a branch in the corridor that led exactly to our workshops' ventilation. "There, behind this wall!"

​Wayland looked in that direction. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword.

​"That is a danger zone," I blocked their path, holding out my cane. "Pressure release. Alaric, do you hear that whistling?"

​I discreetly pressed a protruding panel in the floor that Darwin and I had prepared yesterday.

​A sharp, piercing hiss rang out. A jet of cold compressed air erupted from a crack in the wall. Alaric jumped back, dropping his pendulum. The crystal hit the floor and shattered into pieces with a chime.

​"I warned you," I remarked coldly, without flinching. "Balancing systems are at work here. Another step, and that jet would have taken your head off."

​"Pressure, then?" Wayland muttered.

​I led them through a labyrinth of passages, intentionally choosing the longest routes.

​Finally, we entered the main hall of the first level. It was a vast, domed room. Dozens of black consoles stood in rows. Empty glass hemispheres hung from the ceiling.

​"It’s empty here," Alaric drawled disappointedly, rubbing his bruised hand.

​I approached the Central Terminal. "Your Excellency, you said that in your castle, the system requires mages as batteries. See how it is actually supposed to work."

​I pulled a small metal box with wires from under my coat—our homemade galvanic battery. I inserted it into a pre-prepared slot in a niche under the terminal.

​I placed my right palm on the panel. I closed the contact.

​Slowly, a white light kindled in the glass spheres under the ceiling.

​Wayland winced at the bright light but immediately opened his eyes wide.

​"Without magic..." he whispered, approaching one of the consoles. "Master Iron, you are magnificent."

​"This is the future I promised. Technology that does not depend on magic."

​The Count slowly turned to me.

"Now I understand why you clung so hard to Dornheim's independence."

​At that moment, the floor beneath our feet tangibly swayed. From deep below, a sound echoed.

​BOOM...

BOOM...

​The guards grabbed their sword hilts, looking around in fear. Wayland remained in place, only gripping his cane slightly tighter.

​"What is that?" he asked, looking me in the eye.

​"A reaction to the startup," I lied quickly. "Load redistribution in the lower tiers. The system is waking up; it’s normal. But we’d better leave. Light stability isn't guaranteed right now; a back-surge could occur."

​I yanked out the battery, and the light died instantly, replaced by the familiar flicker of torches.

​The ascent to the surface passed in total silence. Wayland was lost in thought, Alaric was feverishly scribbling in a notebook, and I was trying not to fall to my knees.

​"Master Iron!" A breathless sentry ran toward us from the wall. "Your Excellency! On the southern track... riders!"

​I went cold.

"Who? The Count's men?"

​"No," the sentry swallowed. "They have banners with a golden sun and an eye. And with them—a bailiff from the College of Mages. No less than fifty swords."

​"The College of Mages?" Goosebumps immediately ran over me, and then the tension snapped. Still, if it were the Academy... no, that’s impossible.

​Wayland slowly turned toward the horizon, where a pillar of dust was rising over the road.

​"It seems news of your light travels faster than we thought, Iron," the Count said softly.

​"Darwin!" I shouted, seeing my friend running out of the workshops. "Take off the tarps!"