Chapter 121: Right of the Strong

​I stood at the south parapet, left hand braced against the stone.

​"Iron, they’re close. The dust has settled. They’re at a walk," Noah’s voice came from right beside me.

​"How many?" I asked, not turning.

​"Fifty-seven riders. Three in purple College capes. And one... in black, with a silver rod. He rides ahead of everyone."

​A sharp gust of wind tore over my head. My ears popped. I felt a light touch on my cheek. Her voice hissed in my mind, cutting through the wind.

​“The one in black—Overseer Cassian. Sealed scrolls in his bag.”

​"Darwin!" I shouted down. "Strip the covers from the first and third cannons. Turn them toward the bridge. Do not load powder. Let them just see the tubes."

​"Are you out of your mind?" Darwin burst into the square, waving a greasy wrench. "If they see the guns, it’s a declaration of war!"

​"Do what you're told," I cut him off.

​The heavy guest house doors swung open. Count Wayland stepped onto the porch. Walter followed.

​The Count looked up at the wall. He found my eyes and gave a slight, sharp shake of his head.

​"Master Iron," his voice was low. "Put your pipes away. Come down."

​I hesitated for a second, then signaled Darwin. He threw the tarps back over the barrels.

​We met them at the gates. Me, Wayland, Walter, and Noah—who tucked himself behind my back, tugging at my jacket.

​The detachment stopped ten paces out. Horses snorted. Hooves struck sparks from the stone. Overseer Cassian—a gaunt old man with that face.

​"In the name of the College of Mages and the High Council," he began. "Dornheim is declared a distortion zone. We are here to seize forbidden mechanisms and arrest 'Master' Iron. Any resistance is immediate death."

​The mages in purple raised their hands in sync.

​"Master," Noah whispered. "The mage on the left... blue flame scroll behind his back. He strikes first if you open your mouth."

​I stayed silent. Everything inside me clenched.

​The Count stepped forward. He shifted his cane from hand to hand.

​"Overseer Cassian," Wayland said. "Unexpected. I didn't know the Department of Purity inspected village smithies in my private holdings. You’ve lost your way? The capital is in the other direction."

​"Count Wayland. Your presence here is regrettable. It casts a shadow. We have reports of devices using no energy. A direct violation of the Second Edict of Harmony."

​"Reports? From whom?"

​"We are not here for jokes, Count." Cassian raised his rod. "Step aside. Iron is to be taken into custody."

​Wayland’s face went cold.

​"Listen to me carefully, Overseer. This town—Dornheim—is officially my Research Protectorate. Here are the patents, certified by the Royal Chancery a week ago." Walter pulled a scroll with heavy seals from a folder and shoved it toward Cassian.

​Cassian didn't look at it.

​"Chancery seals have no power against heresy."

​"How about logic?" Wayland stepped flush against Cassian. "You accuse Iron of violating the Edict. The Edict says: 'Prohibited use of magic outside College control.' I emphasize—magic."

​The Count turned to me.

​"Iron, show them your hands."

​I pulled my right hand from my pocket. The guards and mages recoiled.

​"Iron," Wayland said. "Ordinary iron. No mana. No energy. Nothing in your jurisdiction. Do you arrest a smith because his hammer hits an anvil?"

​Wayland’s voice now carried a physical weight. It pressed the air out of the space between them.

​"Law is law. If the device is not magical—it is not your business. By trying to arrest my technologist on my lands without proof of magic, you are committing high treason against the Crown. The Crown that gave me these rights."

​The mages behind Cassian began to whisper.

​"We will return with a warrant for a full inspection," Cassian spat.

​"I’ll be waiting," Wayland gave a mocking bow.

​"You are making a mistake, Wayland," the Overseer whispered.

​He jerked his horse around. The riders filed away from the gates, kicking up the same dust they had brought.

​I looked at Wayland. He stood dead still, watching the squad leave.

​"Thank you, Your Excellency," I forced the words out.

​"Do not thank me, Iron."

​"Master!" Noah yanked my sleeve. "Look at the gates."

​I turned. On the left leaf of the gate, over the fresh paint, a bluish symbol bled through. An eye in a triangle.

​"They left a beacon," Elyria hissed in my ear.

​"Noah, get a scraper. Rub it off," I ordered. I knew a scraper wouldn't touch a magical mark.

​"Don't bother," Wayland tapped his cane against the pavement. "Let it stay. A reminder. Go to the workshops, Iron. I want those weapons you had under the tarps."

​"Darwin!" I shouted, turning back. “Gather all the masters. We’re running out of time — re-route the steam lines to the cannons. And… bring me the blueprints for the ‘Trojan Horse’.”