Chapter 235: The Anvil and the Ink
The nights were sleepless. Overworking was in the veins of the Forge District.
In the main workshop floor, Master Engineer Halvers stood with a slate in his hand. It contained the data about the projects ongoing for the next week.
"Right," he said. "Somebody explain to me why we are not building a tower every two days?"
Nobody answered him.
The world had matured eight days ago and the rate at which she was producing the leaves had increased. It was four times the old rate.
They had prepared three Towers.
"We have the steel," Halvers continued, ticking it off. "We have the credits. We have two hundred and forty workers, forty smiths, and a scribe corps that can copy Voltaire's lattice work in their sleep."
He looked up.
"We have leaves coming out of that courtyard faster than we can carry them across the city."
He pointed the slate at the far bench.
"And we have one Cole Rust."
Cole did not look up from the anvil.
CLANG.
