“You should see how much mana-infused steel they can process in a single hour!” Mikko fairly shouts in enthusiasm. “We’ll be able to supply the entire borderlands with our enchanted goods once I import one of their auto-enchanters.”

  “Hmph. Sounds like it will put good men out of a job,” Mikko’s forgemaster, Aatos, grunts. He’s taking a break from managing the forge, standing backlit by the rosy red flames, with his thick, scarred arms crossed over his leather forge apron.

  Mikko shrugs, but doesn’t seem ready to concede the point. “Maybe. Or they’ll learn new skills. People still have to build and service them, unless Nuri makes us a bunch of golems to do that for us. And they don’t make most items. They only do what they’re programmed to do. A [Mage Crafter] or [Iron Enchanter] writes each inscription.”

  “Those evolutions from [blacksmith], eh?”

  Mikko booms in laughter, seemingly at ease with his master’s wry humor. “Nah, but they exist alongside smiths. How is this different from hiring an [Enchanter] to finish your swords or armor? Now you can do it in-house, and it will be consistent each time. Up to ten scripts can fit on the wheel.”

  Master Aatos gestures toward a rack of simple boar spears by the wall, then continues his motion to take in the horseshoe barrel nearby. “We make a lot of things, boy. You ought to remember that well from your time here. What if I want to change things up?”

  “Easy,” Mikko says, warming to the topic. “We’ll have a record of every change, since the scripts are kept on modular pieces. It’s a rotating stamping plate. If you want to revert a change, just spin the wheel the opposite way to use the previous script. It’s called, uh, what is it? Ah, a ‘backward-rolling procedure’ or something. Kind of a mouthful.”

  “Why not just say roll back?” I suggest.

  Mikko hums. “I like it! Nice and short.”

  “Ten different types?” Master Aatos strokes his bushy white mustache. His eyes glitter. “Huh. Could be interesting.” A new thought seems to strike him, and his face twists into a deep grimace. “Sounds expensive as the abyss.”

  I step up next to my brother and fling an arm over his blocky shoulders. “Good thing I’m rich these days. Consider it a wedding present.”

  “No cost to the forge?” Master Aatos presses.

  “Absolutely none,” I confirm. “Look, I’ll tell you what. I’ll even throw in twenty ingots of mana-infused steel. Deal?”

  He rubs his palms together. “Very good, very good! I’ll keep an open mind. Methinks I took on the wrong brother, eh?”

  We share a chuckle, and slowly our conversation turns away from shop talk toward all the marvels we encountered on our travels. The venerable and gregarious [Master of the Forge] is a surprisingly engaged listener, making all the appropriate noises of appreciation at each of the many exciting moments in our story, and asking sharp, salient questions.

  By the time we catch him up with our current project, explaining that we’re training Mikko and Avelina’s replacements, Master Aatos complains gruffly that the forge is growing cold. With a snap of my fingers, I bring it back up to temperature, and he shakes his head.

  “Don’t let my apprentices see that! Too easy. They’ll never want to pump the bellows a day in their lives after that little show.”

  His good-natured belly laugh reassures me that he’s not upset, but I still feel vaguely like I’m showing off. When I try to apologize, though, he glowers at me.

  “Apologize? What for, Master Nuri? You’ve earned every bit of your strength. If anyone should apologize, it’s me for trying to keep it from them. Getting stingy in my old age! Might as well give them a lofty target to shoot for when they’re all grown up. Like you two.”

  Mikko smiles at me. He’s always looked forward to growing up and settling down, and now he’s on the cusp of achieving his dreams.

  “Look at you two,” Master Aatos rumbles. His massive hands settle on our shoulders as he stands opposite of us. “You’re all grown up. Left here as young whelps, but you shaped up.”

  “Still have some growing to do,” Mikko says. “I’ve got more to learn from your forging methods. Auto enchanters can’t do everything.”

  “Hmph! Flatter me more and you’ll get places.” The twinkle in his eyes brings a smile to my face, and he winks before stepping back and taking another long look at Mikko.

  “Like an unfinished blade placed against the grindstone for sharpening, polished until it gleams with a wicked edge,” Mikko’s forgemaster murmurs, shaking his head in admiration at his former student.

  “Thank you, Master Aatos,” Mikko says, bowing his head. I don’t need the feedback from my Domain to tell that the praise means the world to him.

  “You’ve earned it. I can’t call you an apprentice anymore! A man grown, and no mistake. Proud to see what you’ve become.”

  “I’m proud of you, too, brother. Gonna miss you,” I say, and for once there are no insults or jokes, just plain sincerity. Our youthful levity has changed, tempered into something more settled. Determined. We still know how to laugh, but there’s more to us than goofy teasing now.

  “Come visit often,” Mikko says.

  “Never know when you might need a free toymaker, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll keep the next generation happily supplied with plenty of tiny, wondrous glass creatures when the time comes,” I promise.

  “I’ll hold you to it,” Mikko says seriously, and I startle as I realize I could very well be an uncle in a few years.

  A dreamy look settles over Mikko’s face as we talk about the future. Despite his protests that he’s got to get back to the forge, Master Aatos provides a wealth of advice and suggestions on how to start a forge of his own one day, lead a household well, and care for children with a firm yet gentle hand.

  While the two are lost in the possibilities of what Mikko’s life might look like soon, I slip out to give them more privacy for the man-to-man talk. It’s high time I seek out an old mentor of my own, even if I’m not ready to settle down just yet. I need a different kind of life advice.

  =+=

  Ezio’s classroom is much as I remember it, but the students have changed. That’s a theme I’ve been unable to escape since coming back home, it seems.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Change.

  Kuuper is ready to graduate, looking for all the world like the spitting image of Ezio, right down to the black robes and part of his hair. Why he’s copying Ezio, I haven’t the faintest clue, since the august [Scholar] isn’t exactly a fashion expert. All the same, it’s nice to see my young friend doing well for himself. Someone had to take up Rakesh’s mantle in the [Researcher]’s absence.

  Thankfully, Zviad, the jerk who taught me the Golden Eagle Martial Style is nowhere to be seen these days. Word has it that his father got recalled to Modilaraon in disgrace, likely for mismanaging the situation with Tem. Serves him right.

  There’s no sign of Zviad’s partner in crime, either. I can’t even recall his name, so he must not have made much of an impression on me. And that just leaves—

  “Mel! I’ve missed you!” Teuria squeals in excitement as soon as Melina and I walk into the classroom through the side door. She leaps up from her seat and waves, giving us a winning smile as her hair stands on end from the potent static charge zipping around her.

  The first thing I notice other than her zany hair is that she’s almost as tall as I am. What happened to the tiny, shy kid we used to know? She barely came up to my chest last time we were all in town.

  Ugh. I feel old. Everything’s changing!

  Clapping her hands, she bounces in place on her toes, then bounds up to us with a few long strides. Lanky but graceful, she either skipped her ungainly stage, or grew into it and then right back out of it while Melina and I were off on adventure. I hope for her sake that she wasn’t as uncoordinated as I was in my early adolescence.

  Somehow, I doubt it. She’s all confidence and poise as she graces us with yet another dimpled smile, hugging Melina tight in greeting. Her unnatural, pure-white hair certainly reminds me of Melina, aside from sticking up in odd places, but her glittering blue eyes, which spark and dance with constant flashes of static, are entirely her own.

  “Oh, hi Nuri. You’re back, too,” Teuria says when she finally glances my way.

  “Yep. I’m back too,” I echo, feeling older than ever as we stand there in awkward silence.

  I know it’s normal for a young woman not to talk freely with a man my age, so I try not to take it too personally that she’s not as open as she used to be. Nonetheless, all I can think of is how she used to play with the little glass animals I made for her when she was homesick and too shy to talk with the other kids. Now she’s probably too popular and glamorous to waste her time playing make believe.

  She’s all grown up and doesn’t need me anymore. One more change in a long line. Too many to count, these days.

  I cough and crane my neck, looking for Ezio, and mumble something to excuse myself from the conversation before I feel even worse about myself than I already do. I can’t handle an awkward encounter again after I fumbled my way through my talk with Ember.

  Ah, there he is. I should have known. As usual, Ezio is embroiled in a spirited discussion at the front of class, scribbling on the board. I should speak with him about Ember, get him to promise to send her more of the royalties from my imbued wares. Then she can retire for real.

  Three steps into my journey toward the front of the lecture hall, a squeak catches my attention, bringing me to a halt. I look over my shoulder as anxiety and bashfulness spike in my senses.

  All at once, a torrent of words pour out of Teuria, who’s twisting a tiny ring on her pinky and avoiding my gaze as she speaks. Nervousness pings off her, echoing through my Domain.

  “Um, Nuri? Did you know that you’ve retroactively become a badge of honor for those of us who sat through class with you? Kuuper and I are something of a legend for sharing a study group with you back in the day! Well, either that, or people think I’m making things up when I claim we were friends. Or they did, but Ezio backed me up at least and confirmed we were in a class together when you first learned more about mana. We were, right? Friends, I mean?”

  I pause, strangely gratified as I turn back to her with a small smile. “Oh? Of course we were friends! Tell me more about the doubters. I’ll put them in their place.”

  “Yes!” she shouts, pumping her fists. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down!”

  The relief rolling off her is palpable, however. Maybe she didn’t have as much faith in me as she claims. Even so, warmth blossoms in my chest. Maybe I’m still needed after all.

  “Hey, um, if we’re still friends . . .” she trails off, fiddling with her ring again. “You’ll all be nice to me, won’t you?”

  Melina arches an eyebrow. “What’s this all about? Are you in trouble, Teuria?”

  “Um. No, not really. Unless you count trying to sneak past the Army’s barriers. But my affinity makes their wards blare in alarm!”

  I narrow my eyes as I put the details together. Only one thing makes sense for the Army to ward: training grounds in a Rift. “Really, Teuria? You’re trying to delve a Rift?”

  It feels hypocritical to speak so accusingly, but she’s still barely more than a kid. She’s too young to risk life and limb like that! I swallow hard as I realize that’s how my friends must feel about my constant misadventures.

  “There’s no better way to push my Skills forward. I can’t spar with anyone safely, and I’m tired of running experiments without end. Ezio has a thousand and one more tests, and I don’t want to write reports for each one. Please take me on a delve!” Teuria begs.

  Melina sputters, finally catching on. I huff in silent laughter; it’s not every day that I figure out something before Melina. “She got us, Mel! Teuria’s more cunning than she seems, huh?”

  Melina’s expression goes flat briefly as she glares at me, which seems unfair. It’s not my fault the young [Lightning Mage] transformed from a shy, nervous girl into a battle-hungry young woman. I wasn’t even in town for any of this.

  Outnumbered, Melina finally sighs. Her face turns softer again as she gazes at Teuria. “Why do you want to go so badly? They’re dangerous.”

  “So am I," Teuria answers proudly. “I just don’t get a chance to show it. How would you feel if you never got to do what you do best?”

  “Mel, don’t worry about her,” I say, picking up on my friend’s distress. “She’s perfect for the training team. The workers are solid fighters, but they’re at a Class disadvantage for delving. They could use a dedicated [Mage]. Teuria is exactly the kind of recruit we need.”

  “She’s so young. She shouldn’t have to see the terrible things we’ve seen,” Melina says, a plaintive note in her voice pleading with me to agree.

  I cross my arms, turning my body slightly to shield the lightning-affinitied young woman from our conversation, and lower my voice. “I would have agreed with you before Gilead. Before the old monster who tried to drain our life blood. We don’t have the luxury of coddling anyone. Not anymore.”

  The dead look of resignation in Melina’s eyes doesn’t make me feel good about winning the argument, but what is there to say? We need all the help we can get, as Nicanor so cruelly reminded me about Tem.

  Forgive me, I whisper silently.

  Swallowing my guilt, I turn back to Teuria and flash a bright smile. “Welcome to the team! I’ll talk with Ezio about your schoolwork. He should be able to count our delve as extra credit, perhaps as a practical introduction to runic synergies.”

  Sparks of blue-white lightning leap between the young woman’s fingers. She grins at me broadly, unable to contain her excitement. “You won’t regret this! I’ll be your best delver ever, I promise.”

  I match her grin. “Let’s just hope your enthusiasm remains intact after Ember is done with your first round of physical conditioning.”

  Teuria nods seriously. “I’m ready. I’ve been practicing for this moment since you first left town. Ezio told our class about your adventures in the Rift, and I swore I wouldn’t be caught unprepared when you came back.”

  Oh no, I groan internally. What has that wily old man been telling people about me?

  “Pack what you need tonight. We’ll gather in the main square outside the Silaraon City Academy at dawn. Don’t be late. Adventure awaits.”

  With a squeal of excitement, Teuria bounds back to her desk faster than a bronze grade should be able to move. I almost swear I can hear thunder rumbling in her wake.

  “Help her prep, Mel? She could use your experience. I have a feeling she’s going to be popular with the team. Not every day you get to see a natural-born [Lightning Mage] assaulting the depths. That will be fun to replay in the scrying mirror.”

  “No doubt. Sounds electrifying,” she deadpans.