William opened his eyes to see a dwarf standing before him—half Edgar's height, dressed in a leather coat with brass buttons. A monocle covered one eye, and a leather hat with a small gear sat on his head. In his right hand, he clicked a pocket watch open and shut.
The dwarf bowed like a human. **"Welcome, Lord Medici, to Ironhelm—capital of the Fourth Province. I am Dazir, its governor."**
Edgar placed a fist on his chest, returning the dwarven greeting. **"The honor is mine. I am Edgar of the Medici, Marquis of my house."**
Dazir turned to William, his voice polite but firm. **"Ah, you've brought the heir , yes?"**
**"No,"** Edgar corrected. **"He is the youngest."**
Dazir's monocle gleamed as he studied William, then Edgar. His bow was deeper this time, but his words carried a blade's edge.
**"Genius of the millennium, welcome to our humble province."**
*If he seeks political ties to undermine his family's standing, why not bring the true heir?* Dazir's mind raced. *What game is Edgar playing?*
**"Shall we go?"** Edgar asked, oblivious—or ignoring—the tension.
Dazir snapped his watch shut. **"Yes. Time is short."**
William looked around. They stood in a tunnel with glowing red lines running along the walls. A huge brass door, set with glowing stones, creaked open—and his breath caught.
Before him stretched a city of brass and steam. Towers covered in turning gears rose into a sky thick with smoke. The air smelled of hot metal and spices. The sounds of hammers and hissing steam filled his ears. Bridges connected buildings at every level, some high above the ground. Trains ran on tracks—some on the streets, others soaring through the air, powered by glowing stones. Huge airships, built for battle, floated between docking towers.
A train stopped in front of them. They boarded, and as Edgar and Dazir spoke in low voices about politics, James leaned toward William.
**"The Dwarven Continent is ruled by Emperor Zahid,"** he whispered. **"Four provinces and a capital. This one trades with our lands through the gate."**
William nodded, still staring out the window at the incredible city.
William pressed his face against the train window, watching the dazzling city flash by. The streets, shops, and dwarven citizens blurred past in an instant, yet the staggering scale of their technology burned into his mind. Towering brass structures pulsed with inner light, while massive gears turned relentlessly atop every building. The air shimmered with heat from countless steam vents.
**[DOES THIS NOT AMAZE YOU?]** Wiz's voice echoed in William's thoughts.
*"They're centuries ahead of our time,"* William replied silently, his breath fogging the glass.
Dazir observed the boy's intense focus, his monocle glinting. *Whatis he truly studying?* the governor wondered. *A normal child would simply gawk, but this one... he analyzes like an engineer surveying a prototype.*
"Are you listening, Lord Dazir?" Edgar interrupted.
Dazir blinked, snapping back to the present. "Oh yes, my lord. Please continue."
The train hissed to a stop before a colossal brass gate, its surface etched with glowing dwarven runes. As the doors slid open, a fleet of sleek, black vehicles awaited them—compact machines that hummed with quiet energy, their polished surfaces reflecting the city's fiery glow.
The others exchanged glances, murmuring at the dwarves' mechanical marvels, but William barely reacted. To him, such advancements were expected—nothing more.
They boarded the vehicles, which glided forward without a sound, carrying them down a wide path lined with streetlamps. Each lamp burned with the cool, blue light of essence stones, casting an eerie glow over the cobbled road. Ahead loomed the governor's mansion—a towering structure of brass and steel, its walls riveted with precision. At its peak, a massive metallic dome pulsed with inner heat, tendrils of smoke curling into the smog-choked sky.
The gates of the mansion parted without a sound, and the vehicles came to a smooth halt at the grand entrance.
As William stepped out, his boots clicked against the brass-plated stairs leading inside. The air here smelled of oil and something sharper—like lightning trapped in metal.
Dwarven attendants in polished gearwork armor escorted them through vaulted halls, where pipes pulsed with steam along the ceilings. William barely noticed the lavish guest room he was shown to—his mind still spinning from the city's wonders—but the moment the door shut, he collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion hitting him like a hammer.
Outside, the muffled clanks of patrolling guards echoed. He stared at the ceiling, tracing the rivets in the steel beams above, when—
[KNOCK KNOCK]
The door creaked open before he could answer.
Dazir stood there, his earlier formal coat replaced with a relaxed velvet robe, that ever-present monocle glinting. "Ah, still awake, young lord?"
William quickly sat up.
"No need to stand," Dazir said, sitting beside him. "I saw how interested you were in our machines today. Did you like them?"
William forced an excited nod. "Yes! The black vehicles were much faster than our carriages. Everything here is amazing."
Dazir chuckled and pulled out a small blue earring. "A gift for you. It will make you quicker on your feet."
William hesitated but took it. "Thank you, Governor."
"Rest well," Dazir said, standing to leave. "Big day tomorrow."
As the door closed, William examined the earring.
[WHY DID HE GIVE YOU THIS?] Wiz whispered in his mind.
"Politics," William thought. "He's trying to win me over now so I'll owe him later."
Meanwhile, Dazir walked down the hall, pleased. Even if he's young now, he'll be important one day. Better to befriend him early.
The night had been quiet, but William slept lightly—his mind already turning toward what the day would bring. When the first gray light filtered through the brass lattice windows, he rose without hesitation. The air carried the familiar scents of oil and hearth-coffee, mingling with the faint metallic tang that seemed to seep from the walls themselves.
Breakfast was a quiet affair—smoked eel on dark rye, served on hammered copper plates. The others murmured among themselves, but William ate in silence, his gaze occasionally lifting toward the ceiling where the distant thrum of machinery vibrated through the stone.
They ascended to the rooftop dock through spiraling stairwells, their footsteps echoing against close walls. Every so often, a circular window offered glimpses of the waking city below—workers moving like clockwork figures between the foundries, great plumes of steam exhaling into the morning air.
Then, the wind came.
It hit them first as a pressure change, a sudden stillness in the mist before the roar of engines drowned out all other sound. The airship descended like a living thing, its beetle-shaped hull swallowing the sunlight. Cyan light pulsed along articulated wings as they folded inward with mechanical precision, the movement so seamless it might have been organic.
"Category Seven," Dazir announced, his voice cutting through the noise as the boarding ramp extended with a hiss. "Fastest in the Fourth Province fleet."
The interior smelled of hot metal and something sharper—ozone, maybe, or the charged air before a storm. William took a seat near an observation port, watching as the dwarven guards assumed their positions. Most carried sleek rifles, their chambers glowing faintly blue. But four stood apart, their weapons heavier, the barrels etched with angular runes that shimmered with restrained energy.
Edgar's cane tapped once against the deck. "Your arms differ," he noted.
Dazir ran a gloved finger along the nearest cannon. "All dwarven artifacts are ranked by the quality of their essence stones," he said. "Category Two for standard issue." He nodded toward the elite guards. "Category Four. One shot could bring down a fortress wall." His monocle caught the light as he turned. "This vessel? Category Seven. Only the capital's forges produce cores this pure."
A pause. Then, quieter: "So this is why you sought our alliance. To understand our technology."
Edgar smiled—just a slight curve of his mouth. "Was it that obvious?"
"To a dwarf?" Dazir chuckled. "Always."
"The understanding of your advancements," Edgar said smoothly, "in exchange for establishing trade centers in your capital—it seems a fair exchange, doesn't it?"
Dazir's grin revealed teeth filed to precise points. "My lord negotiates as well as any merchant guildmaster."
The ship lifted without so much as a shudder. Through the observation ports, Ironhelm's towers shrank into the haze—and then the clouds parted, revealing the capital.
Zahid'ar rose from the earth like a mountain forged of living metal. Spires like gun barrels speared the sky, connected by bridges where aerial trains wound like serpents. At the city's heart, the Imperial Foundry belched crimson smoke into the atmosphere, its furnaces glowing like open wounds in the mountainside. Beacons swept across armored domes, their light catching on the distant silhouettes of patrol ships.
Dazir pressed a palm to the viewport. "There she is," he said, voice thick with pride. "Where raw essence stones are broken and reborn as steel—where our greatest artifacts take shape in the forges' fire."
The airship descended smoothly onto the docking platform within the Imperial Palace grounds, near the Guest Palace. As the doors hissed open, steam curled out into the cool palace air.
Standing at attention was an elderly dwarf dressed in a crisp black leather suit and polished boots. His long beard was neatly braided with silver rings, and round glasses perched on his nose. The moment the ramp lowered, he placed a fist to his chest in formal greeting.
"Welcome to Zahid'ar," he said in a gravelly voice. "I am Kimal, Head Butler and the Emperor's right hand. The Guest Palace is prepared for your stay."
Dazir stepped forward and returned the gesture. "Well met, Kimal. May I present Lord Edgar Medici and his companion."
Kimal's gaze lingered on William . "The Genius of the Millennium," he murmured, bowing slightly deeper than necessary. "His Majesty has been... eager for this meeting."
Behind them, the airship's engines gave one last quiet hum before falling silent.