The Domain of Cinders was an insult to the sky. Merikh Silas Vane's fortress was not a palace but a gigantic, angular machine, armored in blackened brass, surrounded by a complex surveillance net.
Lyall and Elara Finch approached through the fractured gorges left by the extraction. Elara, her green shawl masking half her face, looked like a fairy tale silhouette amidst industrial ruins.
"The guards are easy to read," Elara murmured, pointing at the rigid, uniformed patrols. "Pressure is their discipline; discipline is predictable. The pneumatic sensors are the danger."
She handed Lyall a small brass whistle. "It's a sensor neutralizer. It emits a stable nexium frequency, mimicking the normal airflow. If you panic, the shockwave of your raw nexium will destroy theirs and betray us."
Their access point was an old, abandoned sewage conduit. Elara used her last contacts: a rusty, obsolete maintenance code.
"The entry is the easy part. The exit will be the hard part. Meet me at the south exit in one hour," she said. "I will focus on the political flows. Vane needs to be distracted by a false sabotage report in Aethelburg."
Lyall entered the conduit alone. The stench of sulfur and rusted metal was overwhelming.
Inside the fortress, everything was oversized. The brass pipes were as thick as tree trunks. Lyall used the whistle, his footsteps muffled by the cinders dust. He listened to the nexium's song through the brass.
The closer he got to the central area, the more the song morphed into a bellow.
Finally, he reached the central hall. It was a metal cavern where the Mother-Pump sat enthroned. It was an abomination. It wasn't built with a clockmaker's elegance, but like a mechanical fist. Gigantic pistons beat at a slow, relentless rhythm, sucking raw nexium from the depths.
The nexium wasn't just corrupted here; it was torn. Lyall felt the pressure in his own gauntlet spike dangerously. He knelt, breathless, the nexium screaming so loudly it made him nauseous.
He saw the proof. The intake rotor, where the raw energy entered, was too narrow. The Mother-Pump wasn't just extracting: it was strangling the nexium.
Lyall knew he needed material evidence. He took out his miniaturized plate camera (a gift from Elara) and aimed it at the rotor.
Flash.
The muffled click of the shutter was the only thing that broke the mechanical horror symphony.
Suddenly, the nexium's bellowing stopped.
Lyall felt the air freeze. The pressure dropped instantly; the silence was more terrifying than the noise.
A voice resonated through the great hall, amplified by the conduits: "Clever little mouse. I knew you would come."
It was Archduke Merikh Silas Vane. He stood at the top of a catwalk, dressed in his elegant white and gold uniform, his brass shoulders shining with insulting cleanliness. He was flanked by two elite guards.
"Your little mystic was an easy diversion," Vane continued, slowly descending. "You are the smith. The only one with the gift to understand my vision."
Lyall stood up, clutching the camera. "Your vision is necrosis. You are killing the source."
Vane laughed. A dry, humorless laugh. "No, I am stabilizing the Empire. This machine is the future. An unlimited resource, as long as you don't care about the rules of that stupid nexium. Now, give me that device."
Lyall didn't hesitate. He threw the camera toward Vane. The Magnate reached out, but Lyall wasn't aiming for Vane.
He aimed for the secondary safety valve just above Vane.
Lyall projected the full brute force of his newly learned nexium. The shockwave hit the valve. The pressure was too great.
KABOOM!
The valve exploded, releasing a jet of over-pressurized steam and shrapnel of brass. Vane was knocked backward. The alarm blared, the mechanical, screaming sound replacing the silence.
Lyall ran. He had the proof. All he had to do now was find Elara before the Magnate got back up.