Today, the forge was a living beast.
Steel bones groaned in the rafters above. Flames roared beneath the bellows, spitting sparks across the stone floor. Smoke curled into the rafters and danced with the light pouring in from the open walls. Here, under Hephaestus's crest, the secondary forge of the Familia labored with pride.
Tsubaki stood atop a scaffold, wielding a welding wand that hissed with blue fire. Sweat streaked down her arms as she leaned into her work, binding thick iron plates into the reinforced frame of what could charitably be called a wagon—if a wagon had armor plating, shock-absorbing treads, and axle joints thick enough to withstand a minotaur's charge.
"Lower that brace!" she barked, gesturing with her tool. Her smiths obeyed, hoisting a plate into place with a pulley system and locking it in with glowing pins of tempered steel.
She grinned. It was ugly, boxy, and heavy as sin. But it would be enough.
Then came the sound of boots on stone.
Luthar Ferranus Cogbane entered, a sealed crate in his arms, expression neutral as ever. His coat was soot-marked, his gloves new. The moment he stepped into the forge, the temperature seemed to shift around him—not colder, not hotter. Just measured.
Tsubaki looked down. "You better pray this thing works, Cogbane."
He set the crate down and opened it. "Only if you didn't make any mistakes."
She laughed and jumped down, rolling her shoulder. "Now I really want you to fail."
Ignoring her comment, Luthar worked methodically, threading copper wire, connecting mana conduits, and carefully linking the engine to the vehicle. The method he was using was quite primitive, but he wasn't looking to start some revolution—he just needed something simple.
Tsubaki watched him work, wiping her hands on her apron. "You know, I didn't think you would start building something else besides weapons."
Luthar didn't look up. "Looks like you have a very bad memory. Just a few days ago I finished building a power supply. Even so, you're still thinking about weapons."
Tsubaki let out a chuckle. "Not my fault if your weapons are more interesting than other things."
As the engine clicked into place, a low hum began, followed by the soft hiss of heat escaping. It worked. A steady, reliable sound that promised stability, not drama.
After finishing the installation, Luthar stood up. "Let's take a little rest, then go out to test the performance."
Glancing at the tired faces of the other smiths, Tsubaki finally accepted the offer. If there was one thing she'd learned from working with him, it was this: take your rest when you can—because there was no telling when he'd decide to keep everyone working straight through the next few days.
By late afternoon, with the installation complete, Luthar gave the order to move the vehicle. Not through the crowded streets of Orario—no sane person would attempt that. Instead, he simply put it inside his system space. Then, after going beyond the city walls and arriving at the open place, he released the vehicle from the system space.
The vehicle—if one could still call it that—stood at the edge of the practice track. Its massive frame was rune-etched and braced in riveted iron. The wheels were broad and layered with mana-imbued treads. Exhaust chimneys hissed gently.
Luthar climbed into the front seat beside Tsubaki, who wore an old pair of goggles.
"Let's see if I can drive," she muttered.
"Just remember the instructions," he said.
Without another word, Tsubaki pressed the accelerator without hesitation.
The vehicle surged forward, rolling smoothly across dirt and gravel. The engine pulsed steadily, absorbing shocks, shifting weight across joints. It climbed a slope, turned without tipping, and handled like a beast bred for endurance.
After driving a little bit, they stopped going any further.
Tsubaki leaned back.
"If this is just a supply cart," she said, "what in hell are you making next?"
"Making a cheaper version so we can rent it out to the merchants," Luthar replied.
She blinked. "Rent? I thought we were going to sell these things."
"We don't need to sell," Luthar said calmly. "We have a monopoly. If we use it wisely, one vehicle could bring in money for a lifetime—and improve Orario's logistics at the same time."
Tsubaki frowned, rubbing her temple. "Fine, but what if someone copies the design? Start selling their own?"
Luthar's voice dropped a shade. "Two things."
He held up a finger.
"First, the engine runs on a refined mana-crystal fuel. Without my equipment, it can't be synthesized."
A second finger joined the first.
"Second... no one survives by stealing from a tech-priest. Not for long."
Tsubaki stared at him for a moment—then let out a low, dry chuckle. "Right. I keep forgetting how much you love shouting about killing left and right."
She paused. "Though… I did try something similar, didn't I?"
Luthar glanced at her; he clearly remembered what she had made.
"What you made was a magic gun. A clever one, but still bound by spellcraft." He turned his gaze back to the horizon. "It has no relation to my technology."
Tsubaki frowned, not quite following.
"I don't mind inspiration," he said after a moment, "but knowledge and inventions are a different thing."
There was no threat in his voice. Just certainty. Cold, mechanical, and final.
Tsubaki didn't respond right away. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft ticking of the cooling engine.
Then she exhaled. "Then there should be a way for me to acquire knowledge from you without getting a death threat."
Understanding her frustrations, Luthar decided to give her a chance. "I think if we talk to your goddess, we can decide if I join not as a Familia member but as another member of the Adeptus Mechanicus."
Tsubaki couldn't believe what she was hearing; the bastard was finally ready to share his knowledge. Even so, she still had something she wanted to confirm. "Do I have to leave Hephaestus?"
"It depends," Luthar explained. "Adeptus Mechanicus only acknowledges the Omnissiah. As for Hephaestus, she can be your friend, teacher, or even someone who provides blessings, but cannot be your faith."
As he was speaking, the sun was already setting, and after a pause, he continued, "I don't know about others, but I believe in a god which I can never see because I do not want a physical God coming in front of me and saying, 'I am your faith, and you should submit to me or worship me.'"
After talking a little bit, both of them made their way back to the city, this time driving through the district, as they had tested the brakes, so they were not worried about hitting someone.