Forgea dipped the last gleaming piece of armor into a trough of cold water, the familiar, satisfying eruption of steam hissing up to greet her. Mecha and her had designed it together. This armor was important. It was destined for their sister, Techa, who would face the Arena tonight. Amy, Valery Snowdrift’s loyal shield bearer, arrived moments later to collect it. Forgea gave the custom-fitted plates a thorough inspection, her calloused fingers running over every rivet and joint, before carefully loading it onto the waiting horse cart.
“Mind if I ride with you?” Forgea asked, her voice raspy from the forge fires. “I’ve been summoned to the palace.”
Amy smiled. “Yeah, of course. Let me just check with Serena.” Amy approached the coachwoman, who, after a brief exchange, nodded her agreement. Amy returned, settling onto the bench next to Forgea. “Serena says she’s happy to stop off at the palace, and she says you’re welcome to eat an orange. They belong to Fruitalia, and Serena’s sure she won’t mind.”
Forgea smiled, a rare, genuine expression. Her adopted sister, Fruitalia, was quite the businesswoman. If only her other adopted sister, Gemini, could embrace that same entrepreneurial spirit. The Torqueburn coffers were in dire need of additional income. As they rode toward the palace in the heart of the city, the sun began its slow ascent, casting its bright, golden light over the sprawling city, a testament to the power of steam. A city that Forgea, with her own hands, had helped to build. Yes, the financing might have flowed from the Petalcrests and Snowdrifts, but it was the sweat and tears of her sisters, her family, that had physically brought the city into existence.
They arrived at the palace, and Forgea offered her goodbyes to Amy and Serena before departing. “And Amy, please make sure Techa is safe tonight,” she added, a note of sincere concern in her voice.
Forgea stood for a moment by the grand building, the opulent centerpiece of the city. In front, the administrative building housed the mayor, Elara Veilstorm, the city’s official head. But it was within this palace that true power resided. Behind it lay the central park. To its left, the library and theater; to its right, the cathedral and bank. This was where the city’s heartbeat truly resonated, a long way from the grimy forge and the industrial district the Torqueburns called home. Forgea suddenly realized she was ridiculously underdressed for the occasion. She still wore her blacksmith’s apron, and her fiery ginger hair, usually bound tight, had escaped its confines. Nevertheless, the palace guards, recognizing the formidable woman who had crafted their very spears, welcomed her inside.
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The entrance hall was a symphony of polished marble and the finest pink silk. Pink – the color of the Petalcrests. Pink – the color of power in this city. And then, more like a goddess descending than a mere queen, Elodie appeared at the top of the sweeping staircase, the morning sun glowing bright behind her, outlining her regal silhouette. With an elegance that seemed to defy gravity, she descended to Forgea’s level. “Good morning, darling. Shall we have some tea?”
Forgea bowed and curtsied, a slightly awkward movement in her work clothes, but executed with respect. Elodie guided them to a lower tearoom, where servants stood eager to anticipate their every need. Once they were seated, the servants graciously poured hot tea into delicate cups. Another appeared with an array of flavored jams to sweeten the brew. Elodie took a generous spoonful of nectarine jam, stirring it into her cup. Forgea declined the jams; she preferred her tea bitter.
“What are your views on Ether?” Elodie got straight to the point, her tone indicating she was a busy woman with no time for pleasantries.
“Honestly, Your Grace, I don’t know. We can’t afford it, and I haven’t even seen it. Is it truly as powerful as they say?”
Elodie was quick to shake her head, her expression one of grave concern. “It’s volatile and dangerous. I want you to promise me that you’ll continue to only use steam power in your forges and factories.”
Forgea knew she held little bargaining power, but she sensed an opportunity, a chance to secure at least something for her struggling family. “Of course, Your Grace. We trust your wisdom on the matter and will refrain from utilizing it. I only wish the price of iron wasn’t so high. Any chance you might release some of your reserves so that my family can continue to produce steam-powered devices at a reasonable cost to your citizens?”
Elodie nodded, almost unable to hide a triumphant smile. For her, this seemed a small price to pay to prohibit Ether from infiltrating the city’s vital industrial processes. Maybe, just maybe, Forgea thought, a flicker of shrewdness in her eyes, I could have gotten away with asking for more.
