When word arrived that our carriage to the castle had come, we stepped out of the tower into another bright, sunlit morning. The square outside had changed. The crowds that had gathered when we arrived were gone, replaced with barricades that kept the city at bay. Only soldiers remained, maintaining order from a distance, while my two combat golems stood guard at the door.

  I paused beside one of them, its armor glistening in the morning sunlight, and leaned a hand against the cold steel of its arm.

  “You okay?” I asked quietly.

  It didn’t answer, of course. None of the combat golems could speak. But I sensed something faint, wordless, like a ripple brushing against my thoughts. Pride. Satisfaction. An echo that wasn’t mine but reached me all the same.

  “Keep up the good work,” I said softly, looking between the two of them.

  Behind me, the receptionist golem inclined her head with a graceful bow. “Thank you, Master.”

  As I turned from the golems, two figures stepped forward from the walkway that curved along the barricade. One was a tall man in polished mail, his posture straight as a drawn bow.

  “Captain Ryes,” he said with a crisp nod. “Royal Guard.”

  Beside him, a young woman dipped into a polite bow, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “Erica Alford. I serve as one of His Majesty’s assistants. During your stay in Eldros, I’ll have been assigned to you and your household.” Her tone was proper, but her eyes carried a spark of nerves, like she wasn’t quite used to standing in front of golems taller than the city walls.

  Allira leaned in with a grin. “Tell me, Erica… do you know of any good pastry shops nearby?”

  Erica blinked at the unexpected question, then managed a quick nod. “Well, yes. Marchan’s, over toward the south green.” She lifted a hand, pointing toward a cluster of shops. “And Nikko’s, just there.” She turned the other way, gesturing past the garden wall to a café tucked beside the cobbled lane. “If I may confess… Nikko’s is my favorite.”

  Seraphina’s lips curved into a smile. “Then it sounds like Nikko’s is our new spot.”

  A light blush spread across Erica’s cheeks. “It’s owned by my uncle,” she admitted.

  “Even better,” Allira said, with a chuckle.

  “Excuse me, my lord Robertson. The carriage is waiting to take you to the King,” Captain Ryes said, his tone stiff as his posture.

  “Yes, of course. Forgive us, my wives like to make note of every café we pass.” I offered a small smile, though Ryes didn’t seem the type to find it amusing.

  I turned to Melissa at the Tower entrance. “We’ll be back after this. If anything happens, I’ll contact you.”

  She bowed low. “Yes, Master.”

  We followed the captain toward the waiting carriage. Seraphina, Marlena, Allira, and Allyson trailed closely behind. At the door, I turned and offered my hand to each of them as they stepped in. Even Erica hesitated when I reached out my hand, a faint flush rising to her cheeks before she took it.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she murmured, her voice softer than before.

  I was the last inside, settling near the door as the carriage lurched forward. Through its open windows, the capital unfurled like a tapestry, streets lined with market stalls, clusters of shops, and the shifting faces of city life.

  “This isn’t like Vaelthorn’s capital,” I remarked.

  “No,” Erica replied, her tone brightening as she adopted a rhythm like a guide’s. “Eldros is divided into districts. Each has its own purpose, with main roads separating them. The Tower sits at the boundary between the Merchant’s Quarter and the Aristocrats’ Halls. Beyond the merchants is the seaport.” She pointed out the window toward the busy scene of wagons and vendors. “The Governmental District, where the castle is located, is three sectors over.”

  “Yes, of course,” I said, hiding a grin. “But I assure you, Captain, cafés have their own importance.”

  The streets narrowed, then opened into a broad avenue. In the distance, towers spiraled upward. I pointed toward them. “Erica, is that the Mage Cathedral?”

  “Yes, my lord,” she said, almost reverent. “The Cathedral is an entire sector by itself. Ah, look, an airship is landing.”

  I followed her gesture to the sky. A dark, rectangular craft descended, windows glinting. Its bulky frame looked like a brick dropping from heaven, nothing like the graceful lines of my own ship.

  “Interesting,” I murmured. “How often do they come and go?”

  “Twice a week, usually. I can get you a schedule.”

  “I’d like a closer look, if possible. Mage Vael might help arrange that.”

  “You know Mage Vael?”

  “Yes. He traveled from Vaelthorn with us,” I replied.

  Allira chuckled. “Don’t let him fool you, Erica. He already has his own airship. He just wants to peek under the hood of everyone else’s.”

  “Your own airship?” Erica gasped, her composure cracking. “Then the stories were true, the one that dropped into the Tower gardens and vanished…”

  Seraphina arched a brow. “What did you hear?”

  “That it was some invasion,” Erica admitted, paling. “The crown announced it was just an airship with mechanical issues. That it recovered and departed. But it was you?”

  “Yes,” I said evenly. “I had to land the ship. It’s stored inside the Tower now, waiting until needed.”

  “Inside…?” she whispered.

  “Tell us, Erica,” Marlena pressed gently. “What were you told before meeting us today?”

  “Only that an Earl and his wives had arrived. That I was to act as your liaison for your stay. Fetch what you require, keep things running smoothly. Nothing more.”

  “Just enough,” Marlena muttered.

  Erica’s eyes flicked nervously between us. “Is there more I should know?”

  “It depends,” I said, watching her steady herself despite the tremor in her hands. “On how much you’re allowed to know.”

  “You are Earl Robertson of Brakenreach,” she said quickly, as though reminding herself of her script. “Special guest of our king.”

  “Special guest?” Allira quipped.

  “I like that,” Marlena added with a grin.

  “Enough,” Seraphina said gently. “We’re scaring her.”

  I smiled, amused at the king’s choice of words. “Special guest,” indeed. A neat phrase to cover the truth without inviting questions. Clever man.

  I glanced back out the window. “What part of the city are we in now?”

  “This is the Governmental District,” Erica said, her voice steadier now. “That building there is the Adventurer’s Guild. Next to it, the Crafting Hall.”

  Seraphina tilted her head. “Vaelthorn only has one hall for all guilds.”

  I nodded. “We should visit the Crafting Guild tomorrow, if time allows.”

  “Are you a crafter?” Erica asked politely.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m known to do some blacksmithing.”

  That earned a round of chuckles from my wives.

  Erica looked confused. “Did I miss something?”

  “No,” I said, grinning at the women across from me. “They just enjoy making fun of the kinds of things I build.”

  “The master smith is usually at the guild in the mornings,” Erica said after a pause, regaining her composure. “If you wish, I can check his schedule and arrange something.”

  “Please do,” I replied.

  The carriage rolled to a halt before the main gates of Castle Eldros. When the doorman swung the door open, I stepped out first. Rows of soldiers snapped to attention, their armor catching the morning light in rigid lines of steel.

  I turned and offered my hand to help Seraphina, Marlena, Allira, and even Erica down from the carriage. Once everyone was assembled, I faced Captain Ryes, who stood ramrod straight, his salute crisp.

  “Earl Robertson, we welcome you to Castle Eldros,” he announced. At his word, the entire line of soldiers saluted in unison.

  “Thank you, Captain,” I said, bowing slightly in return.

  “If you’ll follow me, Earl, I’ll take you to where the King is waiting.”

  Together we crossed the threshold into the grand entrance hall. The air inside was cooler, hushed. Our boots echoed against the stone as we passed down a long corridor that ended in a pair of tall double doors flanked by guards.

  “This is as far as I go,” Ryes said, stepping aside with another bow.

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  As I approached, the guards reached forward and swung open the massive doors.

  The chamber beyond unfolded in a sweep of grandeur and age. Stone walls rose high into shadows, softened by vast tapestries that told silent stories of hunts, battles, and kings long turned to dust stitched in fading golds and reds. At the far wall, a massive fireplace roared, its blackened mantle carved deep by centuries of smoke. The firelight flickered and cast long shadows across the hall.

  A long oak table stood at the center of the room, scarred but resilient, surrounded by high-backed chairs with carved crests and worn leather that gleamed in the flickering light. The air was thick with the scent of burning pine and a faint musk of wool and stone. This was a room not just for dining but for judgment and war, a blacksmith’s anvil where life-and-death decisions had been hammered for generations.

  Four figures sat at the table. Two strangers. Two familiar. Prince Darian sat on the left, beside a woman in a blue gown with white trim, her brown hair braided beneath a shining crown. At the head of the table sat a man with grey hair and a salted beard, holding a cup as his sharp eyes met mine.

  All four rose as I entered.

  “Ah, King Theran, Queen Aleryn, and Prime Minister Halbrecht,” Darian said, stepping forward with his hand out. “Allow me to present Earl Robertson.”

  I bowed and shook Darian’s hand. Each of the others introduced themselves in turn. Halbrecht smiled at me. “Earl, you look far better than when I last saw you.”

  “Yes. A few days of rest works wonders,” I replied.

  The King gestured toward the hearth. “Your wives may rest there, if they wish.” Plush chairs waited near the warmth.

  My wives curtsied lightly and took their seats, while I settled at the table. Allyson, of course, remained standing at my shoulder, unblinking, watchful.

  Servants tiptoed, setting tea and small plates before us. The King and Queen sipped, eyes fixed on me.

  “David Robertson,” the king said at last, his voice low and steady. “I’ve heard many stories. You are a blacksmith rumored to be able to forge mithril. Also, some stories are going around that you are an engineer, an order thought gone for centuries. That you were present when the Rift was closed.”

  “Yes, I am guilty of all of that,” I said.

  “And now,” the King continued, “I now hear you are the master of the tower here in Eldros?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Halbrecht leaned back, nodding as if in approval. “I must say, Earl, the journey here with you was remarkable.”

  Queen Aleryn remained silent, eyes intent, as though weighing every breath I took.

  “What does it mean, Tower Master?” King Theran asked, his brow heavy.

  I spread my hands slightly. “A Tower Master commands and stewards the Tower’s resources. The Tower recognizes only one individual… sorry, engineer, that is worthy of guiding it. That is all I can truly say. The title is earned through a test of worth set by the previous master.”

  “And what was your test?” Prince Darian asked, leaning forward as he reached for another sweet.

  “It was an explanation,” I said carefully. “A demonstration of the electrical field effect.”

  “What?” Halbrecht barked, nearly spilling his tea.

  I kept my tone even. “A formula, an explanation of how energy, like lightning, disperses and can be harnessed. There are wider applications, and I could give you a year-long lecture on it, but I’m keeping it simple.”

  I reached for my tea, only to pause. A faint marker hovered above the cup: Poison.

  My gaze swept the table. None of the other cups bore the mark. I slid mine aside casually, as if I had simply changed my mind, and reached for a cookie instead.

  I hadn’t seen the servant who placed it there. But I understood the message clearly enough.

  Even here, some wanted me gone.

  I looked up from the cookie I’d been staring at and met Prince Darian’s eyes.

  “Lost in thought,” I admitted.

  “It seems there’s a great deal to know about being a Tower Master,” he said. “An engineer, too. How long did it take you to study your craft?”

  I glanced toward my wives, who smiled knowingly. Their warmth steadied me as I turned back.

  “Longer than most would believe. I may look young, King Theran, but I could be older than you.”

  The king scoffed. “Impossible. You look barely awakened.”

  “Seventy-five, as of a few months ago. My wife and I celebrated my birthday with cake in Vaelthorn,” I said evenly.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Queen Aleryn leaned forward, studying me with quiet intensity. “You look so young.”

  “Thank you,” I replied with a slight nod. “Age brings wisdom, I was once told. But, sometimes it takes longer for some to sink in than others. I once spent an entire summer without eyebrows, thanks to a failed experiment involving the mixing of reactive agents. That was… memorable.”

  The jest broke the tension; laughter rippled around the table. Then King Theran straightened.

  “That is introduction enough, Earl. We wanted to meet you not only because you are the only engineer alive, but because we know so little of what that truly means.”

  He folded his hands. “Both the Prince and the Prime Minister tell me you seek the vaults.”

  “Yes,” I said. “According to my research, there’s a map or something similar that will help me locate the six remaining towers. If I can find it, I can bind the towers and, in turn, become their master, as I’ve done with the first two. When they are linked, the rifts can be sealed. Not fought. Closed for good.”

  The table went quiet.

  “Sealed?” Queen Aleryn pressed.

  “Permanently. No more gateways. No more invasions.”

  King Theran’s gaze sharpened. “And what do you need from us?”

  “Discretion, for now,” I said. “When I killed General Varkreth, he warned there would be others. I intend to travel north and seek the vaults before they find me.”

  Darian frowned. “General… Varkreth?”

  “The leader of the seventh demon army.”

  “You defeated them?” The king leaned forward.

  “With help,” I answered. “Allira, Marlena, and Alyson held the field with our golems. I fought Varkreth, and after defeating him, we proceeded to close the rift. When it did, their army broke.”

  Silence weighed heavily as they absorbed it. Faces paled. The fire crackled louder.

  Finally, King Theran spoke. “Then you are indeed resourceful, Earl Robertson. General Kitch told me as much.”

  “Yes. But there’s more.” I pushed the untouched cup of tea toward the center of the table. The faint glow of my skill still marked it. “I was attacked in Vaelthorn by an inquisitor named Hermmons. He arrived from Eldros by airship. He mentioned an organization, the Order. And now, even here…” I tapped the poisoned cup lightly. “…someone still wants me dead.”

  The Prime Minister shifted uneasily. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes. It’s an engineer thing.”

  The king leaned back, expression unreadable.

  “Then perhaps,” I said, “there’s a way to meet everyone worth meeting without stirring panic.”

  Theran nodded once. “In seven days, we host a royal ball to celebrate my daughter’s awakening. Everyone of importance will attend.” He signaled to his aide. “See that the Earl and his household receive invitations.” The aide bowed.

  King Theran rose, his voice calm but carrying finality. “With that settled… let us have lunch.”

  _____________________

  Later that day, we went back to the tower in the same carriage that brought us to the capital. Captain Ryes and his honor guard escorted us all the way, their horses clattering on the stone as we turned onto the Tower Green.

  I spent most of the ride staring out the window, watching the city slip past in fragments: markets closing, banners sagging in the afternoon breeze, the everyday pulse of a city unaware of the shadows looming over it. Behind me, my wives and Erica Alford chatted easily about shops to visit and theaters worth seeing, their voices warm against the clatter of wheels.

  When the carriage came to a stop at the garden barricades, I was the first to get out. The crowds had thinned since morning, but curious eyes still lingered from beyond the barriers. I reached out my hand to help each of my wives down, then to Erica, who accepted with a polite nod, her gaze already drifting toward the Tower.

  The massive doors swung open as I approached, stone grinding against stone. I stepped inside and paused, turning back just in time to see the look on Erica’s face. She stood frozen, peering into the dim interior as if she’d glimpsed something she shouldn’t.

  “Earl Robertson…” she whispered, voice barely carrying. “What are you?”

  Behind me, the answer was already waiting. A dozen combat golems stood at rigid attention, their eyes glowing faintly in the gloom. The weight of their silent regard sometimes made even me pause.

  “That, Miss Alford,” I said gently, “is not an easy question. But first, welcome to my tower.” I gestured inward. “Will you come in?”

  It took her a moment too long to move, but she finally crossed the threshold. The doors slammed shut behind her with a heavy clang, bolts locking into place. The sound made her flinch, and the city’s noise was instantly cut off, leaving only the vast silence of the entrance hall.

  “If you follow me, I’ll answer your questions as best I can,” I said, leading her toward the elevator alcoves. She walked quickly to keep up, her eyes darting toward the golems as she passed. They did not move, but their silent vigil was enough to hasten her steps.

  “Where… where are we going, my lord?” she asked, her voice pitching higher than she meant.

  “To our residence. Are you hungry?”

  Her lips pressed tight, then parted. “No. Yes. Maybe a little,” she admitted, barely above a whisper.

  “Then let’s take care of that. Seraphina does wonders in the kitchen.”

  _____________________

  “What do you think, Elsie? Can that man truly do what he claims?” King Theran asked, slowly swirling the wine in his glass.

  “I want to believe, Theodore.” Queen Aleryn sat opposite him in a deep chair, her own glass catching the firelight. “That damn prophecy has haunted us for generations. If Earl Robertson can truly find and open the vaults… imagine what might be hidden inside.”

  “Or imagine nothing at all,” Queen Elsie countered with a weary glance at her drink.

  “You of little faith?” Theran asked, lips twitching in half a smile.

  “I have faith,” she said softly. “But I’m tired of hoping. Still… if anyone can find them, it will be him. He carries something the others did not.”

  Before Theran could reply, another voice chimed in. “Father.”

  They both turned as the side door opened and a young woman bounded in, skirts gathered in her hands. Princess Theresa slipped behind her father’s chair and wrapped her arms around him.

  “What are you two whispering about?” she asked with a bright smile.

  “Do you remember, a few weeks ago, I told you about a man you must meet someday?” Theran asked, patting her hand.

  “That interesting noble? The one at the rift in Vaelthorn?”

  “That’s the one,” Aleryn said. “He’s here in Eldros now and intends to search for the vaults.”

  Theresa’s eyes lit up. “A noble and an adventurer? He does sound interesting. Is he handsome? Can I meet him?”

  “Hold on… You’ll meet him at your awakening ball,” her father promised. “Until then… how are your studies?”

  Her smile faltered. “Must you always bring that up? I’m struggling to keep up with the math. The tutors make it worse.”

  Queen Aleryn chuckled softly. “From what we heard today, Earl Robertson may be the best mathematician in the kingdom, perhaps even the continent.”

  “You may be right, Elsie,” Theran said. “I’ll ask if he might spare some time for you, Theresa.”

  “Really? Is that the man you were speaking about?” she brightened, hugging him tighter.

  The King looked back at Queen Aleryn. “Yes, my sweet. So, Elsie, now that he’s here, what will you do?”

  “I’d like another chance to speak with him,” the queen said. “But after Theresa’s gala, I must return to Karethuun. My people will be wondering where I’ve gone.”

  “You’re always welcome here,” Theran said, setting down his glass. “But yes, too long away from home is never wise.”

  _____________________

  I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, pulling me out of the maze of filaments and tiny glyphs spread across the workbench. My fingers hovered over the etched lines, circuits, conduits, runes braided together until metal and mana looked like the same thing. For a long time, the world had narrowed to the hiss of forge lamps and the faint, constant thrum of the tower’s ley lines. Everything else faded away.

  Seraphina’s face caught the dull sheen of the metal. When I looked at her, she smiled softly, tired, gentle, something that made the rest of the room seem to slow down. The sketch under my palm had been my private torment for the past week. I’d argued with myself over it more times than I cared to count.

  On paper, it looked almost comical: a long, elegant tube mounted in wood, crude sights, and a lever action borrowed from an old Remington design. Inside, however, the guts weren’t gunpowder and percussion caps, but rails, two parallel, mana-conducting channels that would launch a solid projectile with magnetic acceleration. A railgun, except that the power came from stored mana and the armband cores, and the circuitry was runic filigree hammered into brass and mithril. Primitive by the standards of the world I came from; revolutionary here.

  I could already hear the arguments. Weapons like this had changed wars, toppled empires, and killed innocents by the thousands. I was not naive. The technicians back home had divided the world with devices like this; regulators and generals had argued over them equally. Still, my hand hovered over the sight line, and every scenario brought me back to the same question: if the world brought this threat to my doorstep, what would I sacrifice to keep my wives and children safe? Do I have the right to bring this into the world?

  “I found some levitation runes yesterday,” I said, my voice small in the chamber. “If I can keep the projectile’s polarity steady long enough, the rails will do the rest. No powder, fewer sparks, more control. I can adjust the draw so it doesn’t deplete a person’s energy. We can restrict who can fire it. Make it a tool, not a cannon.”

  Seraphina’s thumb brushed my wrist, warm and sure. “David,” she said, the single word carrying everything: concern, trust, exhaustion, turned soft command. Her hand moved from my shoulder to my cheek. “It’s time for bed.”

  I looked at her, at the soft light haloing her hair, and realized how long I’d been sitting here. “Just five more minutes?”

  “Five minutes turned into three hours last night,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Come to bed, husband. Your sketches and all of this stuff will still be here tomorrow.”

  “Huh?” I blinked.

  “It’s midnight. You can pick this back up in the morning.”

  She was right. Reluctantly, I set the device down and stood, wrapping my arms around her. She felt warm, steady. “You’re right,” I murmured, and followed her out of the workshop.

  The moment my head hit the pillow, sleep took me.

  Wind woke me. A howl sharp enough to cut bone. I stood knee-deep in snow, barefoot, dressed only in my nightclothes. Breath steamed in the dark. I spun slowly, the cold biting deeper with every second.

  Two mountains loomed in the distance, twin peaks shrouded in storm. Behind me, a vast body of water stretched into the gray horizon. A valley. A forest. Where… how…

  “Hello?” I shouted, but the wind shredded my voice.

  I moved forward, the forest opening up to a sheer cliff. Up close, it was just a rock. But from a distance, it revealed a massive, black door, seamless and hidden until viewed from the right angle. Stone, but clearly not natural. Deliberate. Waiting.

  “David?”

  I whipped around. Nothing but snow and silence.

  “David.”

  The voice carried warmth. A presence. Then soft lips against my cheek. And darkness swallowed the world.

  I opened my eyes to find Allira leaning over me, her face etched with concern.

  “Hello,” I croaked.

  “Are you okay? You were mumbling in your sleep. Words I didn’t understand.” She wiped my forehead gently.

  “I… had a bad dream.” A lie, though I wasn’t sure what else to call it. Dream? Vision? Why was I still cold, as if snow lingered in my bones?

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “It’s my day with you,” she said with a small smile. “Seraphina and Marlena went with Erica to the pastry shop. They’ll be back later.” She wrinkled her nose. “And you, sir, need a bath.”

  She tugged me up, and I let her. The bathwater steamed, wrapping us in warmth. I sank into it with her in my arms, grateful for the weight of reality. Her skin against mine, her laugh soft in my ear, whatever that dream had been, this was real.

  After breakfast, I headed straight back to the workshop. The armband and my drawings from last night still sat on the bench, the mithril shell of the armband catching the light. I slid it onto my right arm, and the three embedded gems emitted a faint glow. Subtle at first, you wouldn’t notice unless you cupped your hand over them and watched the colors shift.

  “Allyson, could you take a look at these drawings?” I asked, watching the faint glow of the armband crystals shift from blue to green as I finished the last line.

  She stepped closer, her hands clasped neatly in front of her, eyes flicking over the papers spread across the table. “Yes, Master. What is this device?”

  “It’s called a rifle,” I said, tapping the side profile of the diagram. “Think of it like a long-range bow that fires a small piece of metal faster, farther, and straighter than any arrow.”

  Her brows knitted. “You mean it doesn’t use arrows?”

  “No, nothing like that. It uses rails, metal channels, and when properly charged, it propels the shot using a magnetic field.” I smiled at her bewildered look. “Don’t worry, it’s simpler than it sounds. The diagrams illustrate how energy flows through the weapon. The barrel and the stock will be steel and wood.”

  “I… see,” she said slowly, though her tone made it clear she didn’t. “Can something like this actually be built?”

  “Yes,” I said, leaning back a bit. “At least, here it can. The tower’s fabrication floor is idle, right?”

  “Yes, Master. It’s been quiet all week.” She hesitated, looking back at the drawings. “But… these markings, the small script lines we wouldn’t be allowed to carve those, would we? They’re too close to spell patterns.”

  “That’s fine,” I said with a faint grin. “I’ll handle those myself when it’s done. The runes are similar to my armband circuits. When it’s complete, it’ll draw power from either my core or yours.”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “Mine, Master?”

  “Yes,” I said, amused by her surprise. “If needed. It will only draw when you allow it to. Think of it as… a tool bound to its user, like my own armbands.”

  “That’s… remarkable,” she murmured, glancing back at the sketches. “And this ‘rifle,’ what will you do with it once it works?”

  “Test it. Refine it. Then make ten more.” I smiled, already considering the pattern revisions in my mind. “They’ll be only for us, you and the others, not for sale. The rifle will serve as our defense, not our profit. No one will be able to use it anyway.”

  She nodded firmly, understanding that part completely. “Understood, Master. I’ll prepare the fabrication floor and have the materials ready.”

  Looking back at the armbands, they were charging, pulling energy from me. They were slowly filling their storage cells with energy from my core. The armband was one of two I’d discovered here a few days ago. Since then, I’d spent hours mapping the circuits and mage-script etched into its inner workings. Three circuits stood out.

  The first nearly gave me a headache trying to decipher it: a storage array siphoning essence into the gems themselves. If my calculations were correct, the device could hold almost three times what I normally carried.

  The second was stranger. A physical storage circuit. How much space? No idea yet. The script was too advanced, the symbols slippery and evasive.

  The third one I had to finish myself. Whoever worked on this left it incomplete, a half-drawn shield array. Enough of it was still visible to show the intent, and I filled in the missing lines, anchoring the flow. Now it was stable.

  All that was left was to wait. Waiting for it to fully charge so I could test it. How much space did it really hold? How exactly did I control it? What would the shield look like?

  And more pressing still, what could the other armband do?

  I unlatched the second device and peered inside, heart quickening at the sight of what lay beneath.

  Allira stepped into the workshop, catching me hunched over the disassembled armband. Brass and mithril pieces gleamed under the lamps, spread across the workbench like a puzzle.

  “What do you have there, David?” she asked, leaning over my shoulder to study the mess of runes and circuits.

  I lifted my right hand, showing the other armband locked around my wrist. “A project. Looks like something the last Tower Master was working on: two armbands. This one here, and the one I’m wearing.”

  Her brow furrowed. “You didn’t do something reckless and strap it on before…”

  “It’s safe,” I cut in quickly. “I had this one in pieces before I even thought about wearing it.”

  She gave me a look that said she wasn’t convinced but let it go. “Alright. So what do they do?”

  I tapped the gems embedded in the one on my wrist. They glowed faintly, pulsing with a slow rhythm. “This one has three circuits. First, core storage, it siphons a little of my essence and holds it. Second, a shield, though I don’t know its limits yet. Third, physical storage… a kind of pocket-space, though I haven’t tested its capacity.”

  Her gaze slid to the dismantled twin on the bench. “And that one?”

  “That’s where it gets interesting.” I hesitated, running my thumb along the etched script. “It has the same core storage, but the other circuit—it looks like a phasing function.”

  “Phasing?” she repeated, skeptical.

  “Yeah. In my old world, that would mean shifting into an untouchable state. Like… becoming a ghost. How long it lasts, or what happens while you’re in it—I have no idea yet. Needs testing.”

  She arched a brow, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “You do love your toys.”

  I grinned back, flexing the armband on my wrist. “Guilty.”

  Almost on instinct, I let my analyze skill flare. Data scrolled across my vision, and for the first time, I wondered why I hadn’t done this from the start.

  [Master’s Armband – Right]

  40% charged

  The Master’s Armband (Right) allows the Engineer to pull and store core power. Core power may be used to power tools instead of drawing directly from the Engineer’s core.

  Secondary Features:

  ?Physical Storage: Stores up to 10 objects per point of intelligence. Objects are preserved in their static condition at the time of storage. Warning: If stored power reaches zero, all stored items will be lost.

  ?Shielding: Provides physical protection for the wearer. Core drain increases relative to protection output. When both armbands are worn, a full shield wall can be manifested.

  “By the gods… I’m Space Ghost,” I blurted.

  Allira blinked. “Space what?”

  I couldn’t help grinning as I took her hand. “When I was a kid, there was this hero… Space Ghost. He wore armbands like these. Gave him powers, energy beams, a repulser field, invisibility… It was the best thing on Saturday mornings.”

  “All of that… from bracelets?” she teased.

  “I was young. And hey, he always beat the bad guys.” I chuckled.

  Her smile softened. “How about lunch, hero?”

  “Perfect. And while we eat, I’ll tell you about the Herculoids.”

  After describing how the Herculoids defended their world of Amzot over lunch, I slipped back into the workshop. The second armband lay disassembled on the bench, its circuits like an unfinished manuscript. The shielding array matched the first band, easy enough to complete with the notes I’d already taken. What intrigued me more was what wasn’t finished.

  If I could repair and unlock the missing sequences, these bracers could be… more. A lot more. I fitted the second one around my left wrist and triggered the “Analyze” skill.

  [Master’s Armband – Left]

  5% charged

  The Master’s Armband (Left) allows the Engineer to pull and store core power. Core power may be used to power tools instead of drawing directly from the Engineer’s core.

  Secondary Features:

  ?Phaser: Grants the wearer temporary incorporeal status, allowing traversal through solid objects. Duration = Intelligence × 10 seconds. Cooldown period = 2 × duration. ? If stored power reaches zero while phased, the user is forcibly returned.

  ?Shielding: Provides physical protection for the wearer. Core drain increases relative to protection output. When both armbands are worn, a full shield wall can be manifested.

  A grin spread across my face, wide and toothy, like the Cheshire Cat. Two working armbands. Six circuits are active, but I can feel the empty slots like unanswered questions. Six more programs could be slotted in.

  Teleportation? Gates? Flight? The possibilities crowded my mind until it was hard to breathe.

  The previous Tower Master left these unfinished, abandoned on a workbench. I almost laughed aloud. Their loss.

  Now they’re mine.

  I do know one thing: I felt lightheaded as both armbands charged. Enough for today. Time to set it aside and just breathe.

  I should’ve known better when Marlena, Seraphina, and Erica came through the residence door. Allira and I were barefoot and laughing in the living room. She clung to my hand as I tried to show her the box step, though my toes had paid the price more than once.

  “What are you two doing?” Marlena asked, pausing at the sight just as I dipped Allira clumsily toward the floor.

  “Our husband is teaching me to dance,” Allira said between laughs as I pulled her upright.

  “Is that what that’s called?” Seraphina teased.

  “Yes,” I grinned. “My mother and I took classes years ago. She would’ve loved to see us all here like this.” For a moment, I saw her smile again, felt her warmth in the memory, before spinning Allira in one last playful twirl.

  Then I turned to Marlena, extending a hand. “Your turn. It’s best to learn without your boots and socks.”

  “Me?” she asked, startled.

  “Why not? It’s harmless,” I said, crouching to tug off her boots before drawing her gently forward. Allira stepped back, giggling. “You’re going to love this, Mar.”

  I placed Marlena’s left hand on my shoulder and took her right in mine, settling my other hand at her waist. “Now eyes on me, not the floor. I step forward with my left foot, and you step back with your right. Trust me.”

  The first attempt ended with me nearly bumping into her, but I steadied us both. “It’s okay. Try again.”

  She moved back this time, more sure of herself, and I moved with her. Step by step, the rhythm began to form. Awkward at first, then smoother.

  “See? You’ve got it,” I whispered.

  And there, in the quiet of our home, laughter rising around us, I led her through the simple steps. Forward, back, turn. A dance, nothing fancy. But it was ours.