"If I may, sir," Aldric asked, a dim gaslight casted flickering shadows on his brass face.


    Cassian, in deep concentration, nodded slowly.


    Aldric''s head inclined, optics flickering. "How did you uncover your father''s classified projects so easily? While others who have tried, say Lady Evelyn, had not managed to even unearth a fraction of what you have."


    Still deep in thought, Cassian sat for a moment, finishing his thought on paper as he noted it down. "I am a Vaelthorne am I not? What do Vaelthornes do, Aldric?"


    "Endure in shadows, sir?"


    "We are a fortress of knowledge." Cassian closed his note book, his gaze floating to the window.


    "A vague answer, as usual, Master Cassian," Aldric replied, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.


    Cassian sighed, a slight smirk on his face. "I uncovered a cryptic note here in his study. He had rearranged the words into a messy collection on the page. But if you took each of the first letters, then each of the second letters and so on. A brief summary of his plans uncovered, as well as his allies."


    "That is how you knew about Aether," Aldric remarked, "and this Emilia Ravenshade."


    "Yes, Aldric. That note told me everything I needed to know. It wasn''t a full instruction but I understood what my father intended for me to know." Cassian''s eyes softened, finally letting go of the role—just for a moment—watching the night sky as the sky bridge echoed in the distance.


    "I can''t help but to notice you''re more quiet as of late, Master Cassian. You seemed troubled." Aldric observed, tilting his head.


    Cassian sat silently, Aldric''s words swirling in his mind. "I can''t be a boy anymore, Aldric. I am the leader of this House now."


    "I still see that boy in you, sir."


    "Its time to forget that boy, Aldric," Cassian said, letting his eyes fall to his book. "I''m going to get some sleep, we have a lot to do in the morning."


    Aldric straightened, his gears whirring, as if processing his next order. "Of course, sir. You go ahead, I will watch your work here in the study."


    "Thank you, Aldric."


    —


    The forgeworks clanged with the sound of metal on metal, bolts getting tightened and the hissing of steam valves. Large, churning gears and pistons lined the walls of the vast, stretching hall. The air was thicker this far underground, concealed from the outside world. The scent of oil and hot metal filled the air.


    Labor automatons and engineers carried out their tasks, given by Master Engineer Armand Fexley as servitor probes skittered across the floors, transporting tools and parts—maintaining the ever-moving mechanisms.


    At the center of it all, a massive workbench held a half-built contraption, with blueprints scattered around in an organized mess.


    Master Fexley studied the blueprints, scratching the brown mop on his head.


    "How goes the project, Master Fexley?" Cassian asked, as he approached.


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    Fexley''s eyes shot up, then almost as fast, went straight back down to his work. "We would be on schedule if it weren''t for that smuggler," he pointed out, irritation lacing his voice. "She keeps putting her nose in matters that do not concern her."


    A chuckle came from a pair of crates behind them, atop them sat Emilia, twirling a wrench between her fingers. "Just pointing out what I see, My Lord."


    "Free Skies understand the weather in the mists better than we ever could, Master Fexley. It would be wise to take her words into consideration." Cassian placed a hand on the blueprints—studying them briefly.


    "I will not take advice from a smuggler." Fexley scoffed.


    "Then let me make it simple for you," Cassian started, straightening himself, "Emilia, from this moment on, you are Fexley''s advisor on this project. Tell him all he needs to know about the gravitational storms in the mists and help him tune the extractor to withstand the hazards and harvest the Aether efficiently."


    A fierce glare shot from under Fexley''s bushy brows.


    Cassian met his glare, steel-grey piercing into him.


    Fexley exhaled through his nose in frustration, as he muttered under his breath. He turned back to the extractor, tinkering on it loudly.


    Emilia sat, the smirk turned to a sly smile.


    "Glad to see it is understood. Keep up the work on the extractor."


    Cassian took a last look at Fexley, before stepping away.


    —


    "Master Wren," Cassian greeted, running a finger along the book spines as he walked by a towering bookshelf that stretched to the ceiling.


    Thaddeus sat by his desk, before him a stack of papers, half-translated manuscripts and ciphered messages lay scattered. A dim gaslight flickered, casting shimmers on a brass lorgnette held up to his eyes. Noticing Cassian enter, he put them down gently on the papers before him.


    "What can I do for you, My Lord?" He asked, hands folded together on the table.


    "Loyalty is not easy to come by these days," Cassian started, "you, however, showed it without any hesitation. Why is that, Master Wren?"


    "You are the heir to the House, My Lord. By law I should follow you." Wren answered, a polite but obligatory tone in his voice.


    Cassian hid a smile as he studied the bookshelf. "Your devotion to House Vaelthorne will not go unnoticed."


    "I am happy to hear it, My Lord." Wren bowed his head, gently.


    "How goes your search?"


    Wren went for a book sitting neatly at the corner of his desk, flicking to the correct page. "This is your father''s journal. It contains a lot one wouldn''t suspect, such as steam engine designs, talk of imperial requests and so on. However," Wren frowned, "an equation is written here, almost frantically, like he was running out of time."


    "May I?" Cassian asked, gesturing to the journal.


    "Of course." Wren passed the book.


    Cassian narrowed his eyes. The handwriting was rushed, unlike his father''s usually precise notes. Equations sprawled across the page, numbers and symbols looped back over themselves, contradicting the known laws of physics. "He was calculating gravitational pulls. But not Empyra''s gravity, something else, something that grows."


    "The mist''s gravity?" Wren asked.


    Cassian exhaled slowly. "It seems like it." His father''s notes grew more chaotic as he continued down the page. Notes were erased and rewritten multiple times, as his father continuously corrected himself.


    "The gravitational storms in the mist is too erratic and unpredictable to understand. I fear even a Vaelthorne can''t make sense of it." Wren explained, frowning.


    ''The pattern exists. The pattern exists. The pattern exists.'' The phrase repeated in hurried scripts here and there.


    "The storms aren''t random, there is a hidden pattern in the chaos," Cassian explained, "my father knew something. This equation could be the reason the Empire wanted him gone."


    "I''m sorry, My Lord. I can only see scribbles of a chaotic mind. Your father did grow more unusual before his passing. I fear this is the result of years of stagnant growth after generations of world changing innovations. House Vaelthorne has proven to slow down in the field of discovery the past few years. This might have affected your father, his need to fulfill the duty of his House may have broken him, I''m afraid."


    "No," Cassian denied, "these chaotic scribbles make sense, he was onto something." As he stared at the broken equation, he began to fill in the gaps in his mind. "The pattern exists," he muttered under his breath.