A Sinner's Eden

***Tirnanog, Mount Aerie***

***Magnus***

“I'll be honest, this place is a lot fancier than the average blacksmith I expected to visit,” I commented while I followed Sullivan with my hands in my pockets. Now that I wasn't exploring the third incognito, I had chosen a nice but practical set of clothes that was in line with the clan's main fashion trends.

Like back on Earth, people wore a myriad of outfits tailored to their mutations.

But what people with close to human body-norms predominantly wore was a set of wide trousers and a wide shirt which was bound closed with a belt and, surprisingly enough, some sort of natural velcro which was harvested from a plant. It was very similar to a karate gi in design.

Most of the Aerie wore something similar in one variation or the other. The wide cut made it easier for the second's manufactories to produce clothes cheaply and in standardized sizes.

Seeing other fashions on the streets almost always implicated well-doing individuals who had the resources to get something tailored to their body.

My current outfit came from what Astra had ordered for me, not knowing my exact sizes. It wasn't like I had the opportunity to visit a tailor, so I made do with my current black and white silk outfit. Though it was a better version meant for nobles, giving me no right to complain.

When I realized I had been lost in thought, I hurried to catch up to Sullivan who went on without me. The weapon master had skipped most of the fourth strata and led me directly to what he referred to as 'the upper floors'.

From what I understood, the fourth's workshops were separated according to the clientèle they were serving.

On the lowest floors were the manufactories which provided the general public with standardized equipment. Which didn't mean they provided bad work. These lower floors also took care of the more complicated metalwork that the second strata's manufactories didn't provide.

The manufactories in the second strata had their focus on things that didn't require blacksmithing. Like weaving, carpentry, or paper-making. There was a lot of stuff a civilisation needed to function once you started thinking about it.

The higher a person went within the fourth's levels, the more specialized the craftsmen became. This also meant their goods were aimed at people of higher standing who could afford to splurge resources on something nice instead of purely functional.

What worried me, was that Sullivan had left even those shops at the wayside. Instead, we had passed some mean-looking guards who protected a golden gate that had suspicious similarities with the one that adorned the entrance to the Frost's mansion.

From there, we entered a rounded, oblong hall that had been tiled with expensive-looking wood. The walls and the ceiling portrayed carvings of craftsmen at their job.

It was a jarring contrast to the various tools and machines which filled the hall, barely allowing us to get through.

We made it halfway into the hall before a man who I recognized greeted us. He looked human, except for the unhealthy looking grey, almost rocky skin.

Gilbert Kline reminded me of the stone golems from fantasy stories.

“Sullivan, you old molerat!” Gilbert greeted the weapon master with a laugh and what looked to be intended as a light pat on the shoulder. Instead, Sullivan ducked beneath the friendly pat as if a metal bat had been swung at him.

“I am doing just fine, but likely no longer if I let you hit me. I value my shoulder, so forgive me for dodging that, hahaha!”

“Oh, sorry.” Gilbert looked chagrined. “I forgot you aren't as sturdy as my family.”

The elder offered his flat palm instead, and Sullivan slapped it in greeting.

Gilbert turned his attention to me and I tentatively mimicked the same gesture, now wary because of how Gilbert treated Sullivan. The short greeting had given me the impression that Gilbert wasn't in control of his power, or at least easily forgot how weak others were compared to him.

And he was an elder, so I decided to stay safe rather than sorry. The memory of Bruce chasing me down a hallway was still vivid in my mind. His wings had wrapped him in a whirring globe of deadly protection, moving faster than the eye could see.

I had tried throwing my metal balls at him without holding back.

His wings simply slapped the projectiles out of the air – and I was fairly certain my throws rivalled the bullets of a better pistol. Worryingly enough, I didn't believe my throwing spears would have made much of a difference.

Even with my speed, I had no clue how to get through such a defence except for hoping he would tire out at some point.

“Nice to meet you in person, Tulkas. Sullivan already told me that you are here to get some appropriate equipment,” the elder continued in an unexpectedly friendly and informal manner.

“Hello, I wish I had been forewarned about this meeting,” I replied, unsure of how to act. “I admit I do not understand how I earned your assistance?”

“Nonsense!” Gilbert made a dismissive gesture. “You are a part of the Frosts' now, the twelfth's leading family. You need to look the part.”

He suddenly turned serious. “Besides, you are a part of one of the factions who want to teach those Thich bastards a lesson. Making sure you have the right equipment is the least I can do.”

Right, they had lost a granddaughter when the Thich attacked us.

“I am sorry for your loss.” It was all I could say at the moment. I hadn't known Michaela Kline well enough to say anything more consoling and we had already shared everything about her death during the council meeting.

Gilbert only nodded and clapped his hands together. “Well, let's not fret over things we cannot change. People die every day in this hellhole of a world. All the rest of us can do is to keep going and keep those alive who are still breathing. And I admit to having other ulterior motives, like getting to know someone who has the ears of my fellow elders. It's not every day that the Frosts blow up a promising alliance to take in a stray.”

He bade me follow and went over to a workbench. On top lay my damaged spetum.

Sullivan raised a hand. “If it's no problem, I'll be heading out and pick him up later. I wanted to see whether your stores have something new.”

“Take your time, Sullivan.” The elder dismissed the weapon master with a wave and returned his attention to me. “I've taken a look at your weapon. Decent metalwork, if a bit crude, but it does the job. Sometimes you are better off with a sturdy tool than with ornamental crap. Still, I had to question whether simply repairing the spetum was appropriate.”

I frowned. “I admit, I got fond of the weapon.”

“Yeah, but a simple fact remains, it broke on you. Either you are outgrowing the weapon, or using it wrong,” Gilbert explained.

“I speared a changeling broodmother several times my size with it,” I commented. “It was either that or allowing the creature to get to my partner. I doubt any material would have withstood the force of me using it as a jumping pole.”

“There are things stronger than pure steel out there. Like organically grown monster parts which incorporate metal and carbon nanotubes into almost fantastical compound materials,” the elder mused. “Things Earth could only create in theory because you would need a molecular 3D printer. It was one of the reasons why Earth tried to colonize this world and why they retreated after they had what they wanted. Makes no sense to entertain a research facility on-site if you can just take all the monster parts back home. They probably still have enough materials to research for centuries to come. Tell me, were there any noticeable technological advances within the recent centuries?”

I stared at the elder and blinked, then shook my head. “I am sorry, but I am no history buff. The only things people complained about back on Earth are the elite getting longevity treatments and body enhancements which are suspiciously similar to some of the mutations from this world now that I think about it.”

“Doesn't sound surprising,” Gilbert commented. “They are hogging the good stuff for themselves.”

After a moment of thought, I continued. “I can only say that I have encountered some mind-boggling mutations and creatures in this world. They do things that violate my understanding of physics. The zippers seem to be able to teleport. Creatures that can influence your mind. Or that worm which dug a hole through the mountain, somehow annihilating excess material.”

“Ah, the worms.” Gilbert nodded. “Teleport might be closer to the truth. They have a huge, immensely complicated creature core inside them. We, the elders, took one apart once and its inner workings looked very similar to a miniaturized version of the wormhole tech that was used to send us here. It's too bad the cores don't operate outside their hosts.”

This was startling news to me. “The wormholes need an immense amount of energy! Where would it be coming from?”

Gilbert smiled at me sadly. “Is it enough to say that several of our people died of radiation poisoning after we cracked the worm open?”

I swallowed and my mouth watered involuntarily at the thought of finding out more about this mystery. “Do you know what's going on with the cores? I studied one and it looked more like a biotech heart, or more a membrane pump than an organ. Are there more creatures with special cores? It's almost as if those things were designed.”

Gilbert shrugged. “The general rule is that the larger a monster, the more likely it is for it to have some strange core organ within it that can mess up your day. As for the theory of an intellect designing this world's biosphere, it isn't the first time I've heard about it. Sadly, I have nothing to offer you which would support or deny the theory. People have lived here for hundreds of years, and I've never heard of something smarter than a human which could be responsible for such a feat. No ancient ruins of some lost civilisation. Nothing that builds the creatures, as all of them have documented life cycles. All we have to go on is the fantastic biology. Sometimes, we ran into things that could be mistaken as aliens, but so far it always turned out to be of human origin. Like the poor mutated bastards you encountered on your trip here. A once human population which deviated from the rest of us to create a new species.”

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The elder's speech took a little bit of the enthusiasm out of my sails. Maybe it had been a little bit presumptuous of me to think I had been the first to suspect there might be something more to this world's fauna and flora.

“As for deviating from the rest of the species, I am not sure whether we still have the right to talk,” I commented.

Gilbert tilted his head and grinned. “There are some historic hangups that come with the definition of race and species. I prefer the old dictionary one.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Which is?”

“Race 'A' fucks race 'B'. If they get offspring, they are the same species. If not, they are different species. It's very simple to remember, so that's why I prefer it. In any case...” Gilbert turned towards his tools. “We have to get started if we want to be finished by tonight.”

“Tonight?” I asked. “You will have my equipment made by tonight?”

Gilbert scoffed and retrieved a box with a set of different coloured lenses. “Of course not! I meant taking your measurements. Planning what might fit you. Making sure nothing impedes your mutations. All that will take time.”

He placed two of the lenses on top of each other and held them out. “Tell me how it looks. Both with your normal sight and your second one. Nightstalker vision can be a bit quirky when you pick the wrong materials. We want there to be no weaknesses in your helmet.”

So, the first thing I had to do was get tested for the right glasses.

I quickly learned that Gilbert was no ordinary smith.

He was a denizen of this world who had centuries to hone his craft into more than mere art. When it came to armour and weapons and using the natural resources of this world, he was a scientist. One who had the wealth of this entire colony at his fingertips if need be.

To protect my eyes, he had to layer several materials, like bulletproof glass with an organic material close to plastic behind it. This was to prevent splinters blinding me should something manage to break the glass.

It would go into a Roman-style helmet similar to the one which I had gotten from the Frost's armoury – just more modern without the bloom on top. Unlike the roman version, this would be full-body armour with a face mask to prevent the glasses from fogging up.

Gilbert quickly sketched out an inhuman and menacing-looking thing with four vision slits, taking my nightstalker mutation into account. Even if he spent just a few minutes on the raw sketch, it proved artistry and skill I hadn't expected from a political leader.

“Does it have to look so... evil?” I asked.

The elder looked up from his work and scoffed. “Exiles... this isn't your Earth with some timid citizens who you have to nudge towards their luck with pretty words. This is a largely hierarchic society with a system that favours the powerful. And we are designing battle armour. The people behind you have to see at a glance that you are no joke. And those in front will know they are facing death. Intimidation is half the battle, child.”

There was a dangerous glint in Gilbert's eyes, so I didn't dare to say more.

Then came measurements for the rest of my body, including the range of movement.

By this point, he had me convinced that giving him more information about myself would only result in one thing: better equipment. And better equipment equalled a better chance at survival.

So I shared the little trick I had been working on. Which was to use my filaments as a buffer between my body and the armour I wore. It had saved me from a nasty blow by the changeling matriarch.

Gilbert got really into it when he realized I had been hiding my filaments beneath my clothes, and that they were already long enough for a special style of armour which was popular with people who had the treemonae mutation.

It also showed me that, once more, my little trick wasn't as unique as I thought.

It was then and there that I swore to myself to no longer underestimate these people. They had lived and survived in this world for centuries. Not having access to the resources required to create a fully functioning industry didn't mean they were stupid or hadn't come up with their own solutions.

The singular pieces for my new armour wouldn't be connected. Instead, Gilbert would add flattened tubes to the armour's inside through which I could fit my filaments and hold the armour in place.

Like this, it was possible to achieve a similar degree of protection to a full body armour without losing any mobility.

But when it came to the new spetum, the elder seemed reluctant. “You know...” He balanced the spetum on one finger while he looked at me conspiratorially. “Having a full metal weapon is fine and all, given your electricity. You can electrocute anyone stupid enough to fight you with another metal weapon. As soon as the blades make contact, Zap! And they drop their weapon.”

“It was the idea behind having a metal staff instead of a wooden one,” I admitted.

“But I was wondering,” the elder mused. “What would happen if I used the non-conductive bones of a steelmarder as a base with a magnetic core. We then wrap your new spetum in a metal coil for you to send your electricity through. You could magnetically polarize your weapon. Imagine how that would fuck up your opponent's day when his sword suddenly bounces away without making contact, or better, gets stuck to your blade.”

He giggled madly.

This resulted in some really dirty experiments and filled papers with quick calculations to hash out a prototype coil system. Just to see how much force such a contraption could generate.

Incidentally, the first two attempts resulted in a quite effective heating system for the weapon.

Though, I wasn't so certain whether it was necessary to additionally burn and cauterize something that had been already cut or stabbed.

But Gilbert was all for having the option, though he warned me not to overdo it. Repeatedly heating and cooling a blade would destroy its tempering and cause it to weaken over time.

To control the different functions, Gilbert would add pads at different gripping positions through which I could channel my electricity.

“Are you sure you can make this without weakening the weapon?” I asked during a moment of doubt.

“It will take a bit of experimentation,” Gilbert admitted. “But I like fiddling with new ideas. If it doesn't work out, I can always return to a more basic design. Be assured, I won't give you something that doesn't withstand the forces you can wield.”

“You know...” I hedged, knowing it would be more work than the weapon. “It would probably be better to place the coil system beneath the armour, instead of on the weapon. Beneath the armour plates, they are protected and there is no flex which induces stress on the various materials.”

I knew I had him when Gilbert crumpled the page with the design for the magnetic spetum and threw it over his shoulder.

“You aren't making this easy on me,” he grumbled. “It would be so much easier to accomplish, but I have to add isolation so that you can't cook yourself when you channel energy. The waste heat would be a concern.”

“But since I will be holding the armour pieces with my filaments, I can hold it away from me to cool off if it gets too much,” I pointed out.

Gilbert sighed. “You know, I've already started working on an armour set for your Astra, and now I have to throw it away and start from scratch. It would be a waste to give her something lesser.”

I grinned, glad that the elder was willing to put so much effort into this. If I hadn't partnered up with Astra, I likely would have never gotten an opportunity like this.

“Which leaves us with one more task.” Gilbert got up and led me to a free part of his workshop. It looked like a training ring and was separated from the rest of the workshop with a net made out of steel wire. The wall held a multitude of different weapons.

Gilbert went over to the spear section and hummed while he chose one that held similarities to my spetum.

Then he lazily threw it at me sideways – which was the only reason why I managed to catch it. The impact nonetheless made me stumble backwards and huff.

“I need to see how you fight,” the elder explained while he walked up to a barrel that held countless sticks, each about a finger in width and one and a half meters in length. “The spear you are holding should be similarly balanced to the spetum you are used to.”

He retrieved a stick and swung it like a sword before he turned to face me. “Come at me.”

I looked between his stick and the quite real weapon I was holding. It would get me into trouble, but I had to point it out. “You have just a stick.”

The elder laughed. “If you manage to nick me, I will put twice the effort into your gear than I would have otherwise.”

Well, there was no way I wouldn't take that particular bet, so I supercharged my muscles and stabbed while I flashed forward.

And everything went perfectly.

Except, the elder's shoulder wasn't where it was supposed to be.

Gilbert had moved quickly, but nowhere as fast as me. The difference was he had started moving before I even executed my attack. His shoulder barely dodged the spear's blade and pushed it aside once the shaft extended past it.

Thanks to my enhanced senses, reflexes and split mind, I could watch it in slow motion but do nothing, since I was committed to the attack.

Then the stick whirred through the air and hit the joints of my fingers – one of the few places where I had no muscles.

“Fuuuck!” I screamed as pain exploded through my hand and I jumped back to create some distance.

I shook my hand and glared at the red welt that was already forming across the first joints of my little finger and up to the middle finger.

When I looked back at the elder, Gilbert raised his nasty weapon and gloated with schadenfreude. “Come on... I've just a stick. One of the first tools and weapons humanity ever had.”

“Does that thing have a metal core!?” I exclaimed.

Gilbert frowned at his stick. “Nope. It's made from a treemonae's trunk. Probably some type of carbon fibre combined with some heavier elements. I would love to have something like a spectroscope to analyze it. But alas, we no longer have such tools.”

I used his inattention to flash forward once more, trying to take a swipe at his feet. But Gilbert swayed and stopped the spear with the sole of his foot by stepping on it. Again, he had begun to move before me, knowing exactly what I would do.

Two more times the stick hummed through the air, followed by two whacking sounds!

I dropped the spear, now concerned about my knuckles and my ear. “Aaah! Stop it! How are you doing this!? How are you moving like an old goat and still dodging me!?”

Gilbert laughed and intoned something I hadn't expected him to know. “The force is with me!”

“Don't cite antique movies!” I glared and knelt to pick up the spear without taking an eye off Gilbert.

“You still have to learn that speed isn't everything,” Gilbert explained with a grin. “What you are seeing, is the power of fully mastered Precognition. Something you should also have. I know what you will do before you know it yourself, but I digress.” He walked over to the weapon rack and chose a different spear. “Try this one. We will be here for a while to find something that's right for you.”

After that, I returned to the basics of spear-fighting and used my weapon's reach to keep the evil man as far away from me as possible. I no longer desired to win the bet he had offered me.

It worked, to a degree. I still left his workshop with swollen fingers and bent like an old man several hours later. Not only my hands had been targeted. Gilbert went for any body part that wasn't covered by muscles, like knees, ears, forehead, spine... and evil incarnate that he was, he never missed.

“Looks like you had a nice spar,” Sullivan commented once I entered the carriage with him.

“That wasn't a spar,” I complained. Even if it had been a good lesson in spear fighting a superior opponent with a shorter weapon, I wouldn't admit it was anything less than pure sadism.

“At least you learned an important lesson,” the weapon master pointed out.

“Which is?” I asked.

“First, the elders are in a different league. And second, the Patels let you get away.” Sullivan waved for the carriage driver to get going.

The drive home passed in silence, which gave me time to brood over the implications of this revelation.

At home, I dragged myself back to my private quarters where I found Astra in the living room.

She jumped up when she saw me. “Magnus! You are back, and I see that you've had a fun time with elder Gilbert.”

“Fun?” I asked and raised my fingers to show her. It was a wonder none of them were broken!

Astra smiled. “Isn't he a treasure? Listen, I've managed to take a look at the 'thing'. Just as you've told me and it said: 'Maintenance Access', and 'Power Saving Mode: 1000W'. What does that mean?”

I blinked and my earlier troubles and pains were suddenly forgotten. “It means it's still somehow connected to the colony's power grid without any of you knowing. And it means someone shut down all non-essential functions, but 1000W is too much energy draw for mere idle standby. The thing is running some program.”

Astra blinked. “Which means?”

“That either the people who shut down the colony didn't do so properly, though I can't imagine why, or that something is foul within the clan,” I explained before I had an idea. “Are there any other computer systems it could be communicating with it? Sensors, cameras? Anything like it?”

Astra shook her head slowly and gestured at the empty ceiling. “Not to my knowledge. Some stuff still works, like my music player, but nothing I know of which can be connected to a computer. I know for certain that the sixth strata ripped out and recycled all non-essential systems even before I came to this world. The only old tech they are maintaining is the power grid for the ventilation system. The computer network should be completely un-installed because copper is so valuable. Maybe the fifth strata has some functioning tablets and computers in their vaults? Though, I doubt they switch them on for anything else than to transcribe digital knowledge to paper.”

“Hmm...” I grumbled. “A mystery then. I am not sure whether we should waste our time on it. We will find out anyway once we log into the computer.”

“Oh, regarding wasting time, there is still something I haven't shown you,” Astra took my arm and turned me around, guiding me somewhere.

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