The elven Mage's fingers traced patterns in the air, and the oak responded like a lover to a caress. Branches twisted upward, weaving themselves into elegant spirals that defied everything Zeke knew about structural engineering. Wood shouldn't bend that way. Shouldn't flow like water while maintaining the strength of steel.
"How does she do that?" Maya whispered from beside him, her Nature affinity practically vibrating with excitement.
Zeke glanced down at his sister. She'd been following the elven woman around for the past three days, a dutiful shadow absorbing every gesture, every whispered word in the old tongue. Her dirty blonde hair was adorned with leaves, whether by accident or design, he couldn't tell.
"Practice," he replied, watching as another treehouse took shape thirty feet above the forest floor. "And an understanding of wood that goes beyond mere magic."
The elven woman paused in her work to look back at them. Her ageless face bore the faint smile that seemed perpetual among her kind. "The young one has good instincts," she said in perfect Common. "She listens to the trees rather than commanding them."
Maya's cheeks flushed at the praise, but her eyes never left the woman's hands as they resumed their work. Another dwelling emerged from the living wood, complete with curved doorways and windows that seemed to have grown naturally from the trunk.
Zeke nodded his approval. He'd commissioned seven such structures throughout the small forest on his estate's eastern border. Each one unique, each one a work of art that would hopefully meet the exacting standards of the elven delegation. The fact that the woman shared their heritage had been a stroke of luck—who better to know their preferences than one of their own kind?
[Notice]
The construction crew has reached the third sublevel. They await your inspection.
Akasha's voice in his mind drew his attention to the other major project underway. He'd have to leave Maya to her observations.
"I need to check on the underground chambers," he told his sister. "Try not to stare holes in the new buildings."
She barely acknowledged him, already moving closer as Silviana began shaping what looked like a spiral staircase around one of the larger oaks.
The entrance to the new underground complex lay hidden behind his manor's wine cellar. A seemingly ordinary stone wall now pivoted on hidden hinges, revealing stairs that descended far deeper than any normal basement should. The dwarven craftsmen had outdone themselves, carving through bedrock as if it were butter.
The sound of hammers and chisels echoed up from below, accompanied by the gruff voices of dwarves singing a work song in their native tongue. Zeke descended three levels, passing completed chambers that would soon house dignitaries from the mountain kingdoms. Each room was a masterpiece of stone carving, with geometric patterns that served both aesthetic and structural purposes.
At the bottom level, he found Master Grimtak overseeing the installation of support pillars. The dwarf's beard was grey with stone dust, but his eyes were sharp as he directed his crew.
"Lord von Hohenheim," Grimtak acknowledged with a nod. "We're ahead of schedule. Should have all seven suites completed by week's end."
"Excellent work." Zeke ran his hand along one of the carved walls, feeling the precision in every chisel mark. "The connecting tunnel to my workshop—when can you begin?"
"Soon as the delegates leave, we'll break through. Already got the breach mapped." The dwarf's eyes glinted with professional pride. "Your workshop'll triple in size once we're done. Maybe quadruple."
Zeke smiled, already looking forward to the added space. Akasha's capabilities had grown exponentially, and with them, her need for space to operate. What had once been a single workshop barely large enough for his experiments would soon become an underground complex rivaling some smaller mansions.
A tremor ran through the stone—controlled, deliberate. Another chamber being carved somewhere deeper.
"No issues with structural integrity?" Zeke asked.
"Boy, I've been shaping stone since before your grandfather was born," Grimtak scoffed. "These chambers'll outlast your fancy manor up there by a thousand years."
Satisfied with the answer, Zeke made his way back to the surface. The sun had reached its zenith, reminding him of the test scheduled for the afternoon. Eight Grand Mages were already waiting in the main courtyard, each a trusted member of his guard force, among the most reliable in his employ.
They would be the core members of his increased security measures.
A new spire rose from the manor's east wing like an accusatory finger pointed at the sky. At its peak sat a crystalline arrangement that had cost him more than most merchant lords made in a year. From below, it resembled nothing so much as a massive eye, its faceted surface catching and refracting light in patterns that made his head spin if he stared too long.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"Positions," Zeke commanded, and the Mages spread out in a perfect octagon around the spire's base.
Each one placed their hands on the carved focusing stones embedded in the ground. The engravings lit up as mana flowed through them, racing up the spire in spirals of golden light. The crystal eye at the top began to glow, pulsing with restrained power.
"Target the practice dummy," Zeke instructed, pointing to a figure made of compressed stone and metal placed two hundred yards away.
The lead Mage nodded, and the formation shifted its focus. The eye glowed—an unnerving sight—and locked onto the target. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a beam of pure light lanced out, crossing the distance instantaneously.
The dummy didn't explode. It simply... ceased. Where solid matter had been, only a perfectly circular hole remained, its edges glowing cherry-red from the heat.
"Again," Zeke ordered. "Moving target this time."
Akasha animated another dummy, sending it racing across the courtyard in erratic patterns. The lead Mage tracked it smoothly, and another beam struck out. This time the dummy's arm vanished, severed cleanly at the shoulder.
The Mages were sweating now, the strain of channeling so much power evident on their faces. But the system worked. An Archmage might survive a direct hit—might—but they'd certainly think twice about attacking his estate.
"Enough," he called, and the formation powered down. The eye's glow faded to a dim luminescence that would remain constant, a warning to any who might harbor ill intentions.
As the Mages departed, Zeke allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The preparations were nearly complete. Accommodations that honored each delegation's culture, defenses that could repel all but the most determined assault. Now he just needed to—
"Young lord?"
Zeke turned to find a servant approaching, and beside him, a familiar figure moving with the careful gait of a man whose body was betraying him. Jettero's face had gained new lines since their last meeting, and his breathing carried a slight wheeze that hadn't been there before.
"Jett," Zeke greeted, genuine warmth in his voice. "Come to complain about my latest design modifications?"
"Your designs are shit, as always," the old engineer shot back, but his heart wasn't in the insult. "Though I'll admit the modular frame is growing on me. Like a fungus."
They made their way to Zeke's study, the servant tactfully excusing themselves. Once seated, Jettero's facade cracked slightly. The tremor in his hands was more pronounced when he thought Zeke wasn't looking.
"The new production line is running smoothly," Jettero reported. "Trained three new engineers to handle the work. They're not as good as me, obviously, but they'll do."
"Obviously," Zeke agreed dryly. "No one could match the great Jettero's skill with a wrench."
"Damn right." The old man's smile was genuine this time, but it faded quickly. "Look, boy, I didn't come here to discuss production schedules."
Zeke leaned back in his chair, already sensing where this was headed. The way Jettero's eyes kept darting to the portrait on the wall—the one that included both Maya and Lue from last year's celebration—told him everything.
"It's about Lue," Jettero continued, his voice rougher than usual. "I've been... making arrangements. For after."
The word hung in the air between them. After. After the inevitable. After Jettero's body finally gave up the fight it was clearly losing.
"She's a bright girl," the old man pressed on. "Brighter than I ever was. Those affinities of hers, High Metal and Mind, could make it far in the field of magical engineering. But she'll need guidance. Protection. Someone who—"
The old engineer's words cut off as he slowly, painfully, lowered himself from his chair to his knees. The gesture was so unexpected that Zeke shot to his feet.
"Jett, what are you—"
"Please." The word came out cracked, desperate. "I know I already asked too much. You gave her Magic when I could only dream of it. But I'm asking for more. When I'm gone, she'll have no one. No family. No—"
"Get up." Zeke's voice came out harsher than intended, emotion making it tight. He rounded the desk and physically hauled the old man back to his feet. "Get up, you stubborn fool."
Jettero's eyes were wet, but he met Zeke's gaze steadily.
"You think I need you to beg?" Zeke's jaw clenched. "You think I'd abandon her the moment you're gone? What kind of man do you take me for?"
"I just... I needed to be sure."
"Lue is family. Has been since the day she and Maya became inseparable." Zeke's golden eyes blazed with intensity. "I'll protect her, guide her, give her every opportunity to reach her potential. Not because you asked. Because she's one of mine."
The old man studied his face for a long moment, searching for something. Whatever he found there made his shoulders sag with relief.
"You mean that," Jettero said, not a question but a statement.
"Every word."
They stood there for a moment, the weight of the promise settling between them. Then Jettero cleared his throat, scrubbing at his face with one gnarled hand.
"Well then. Glad that's settled. Now, about those shit designs of yours—"
"They're revolutionary and you know it."
"Revolutionary garbage is still garbage, boy."
The familiar banter restored some normalcy, but Zeke couldn't shake the image of Jettero on his knees. The man who'd never bowed to anyone, who'd told noble clients exactly what he thought of their idiotic requests, reduced to begging for his granddaughter's future.
As they discussed production schedules and design modifications, Zeke made a silent vow. Lue wouldn't just be protected: she'd be given every advantage his power could provide. The same opportunities as Maya, just as he'd promised years ago.
The old man might not have long left, but his legacy would live on. Zeke would make certain of that.
[Notice]
Visitors are approaching the study. They appear agitated.
Zeke sighed inwardly. The newly awakened had been... an adjustment. More precisely, their parents were. They roamed the city, searching for the best working conditions for their beloved children, only to return to him, complaining about the insulting offers they received.
"Looks like duty calls," he said to Jettero. "Want to join us for dinner? I'm sure Lue would love to show you her latest blueprints."
The old man's face brightened. "That girl's already creating her own blueprints? She just awakened!"
"She learned from the best."
"Damn right she did." Jettero rose carefully but with dignity intact. "Dinner sounds good. Give me a chance to remind her about the new workshop safety protocols. Again."
As they left the study, Zeke spotted the agitated couple approaching down the hallway. Whatever crisis they faced, he would handle it—just as he would handle the arriving delegations, the political maneuvering, and everything else the coming month would throw at him.
Now all that remained was to see what kind of wrench fate was about to throw into his plans.