[participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge]

Five days later, I’m begging for the week to be over. All I want to do is return to my quiet, simple life as an [Assistant Glassworker] at the studio. I’ll melt some glass, make some trinkets, and go out with the boys for a round of drinks before doing the same thing all over again the next day. No ambitions, no big dreams, no scorching pain all over my tender insides.

True to his word, Ezio hasn’t revealed my final score, but whenever I’m frustrated with my progress, he waves the paper at me and waggles his eyebrows.

Me and my big mouth. I should have asked for the score so I could see just how far I have to go compared with an actual academy student. Now the unknown test result hangs over my head, and instead of excitement, I’ve come to dread the day the composite, weighed scores are revealed. What was I thinking?

I’ve done some light sleuthing on the average scores—Ember always makes fun of me and calls if snooping, instead of sleuthing, but I prefer my term—while checking on Ezio’s records at the city hall. Turns out he’s in his late forties, although he looks about twenty-five. Anyway, it turns out that, surprise surprise, I’m extremely low in Capacity compared with the average [Mage] aspirant.

To my excitement, however, I find that I’m a hair above average in Retention, Fidelity, and Resistance. Or, rather, I’m lower than average in resistance, which is better. Because . . . of course it is. I laugh ruefully, recalling the [Researcher]’s claims about standardization. Why not invert the score, then, so that everything is still out of one hundred?

My Speed is nothing special, which also makes sense to me. Other than my big fight in town when the cats attacked, I’ve never tried to push or pull on heat all in one big go. Glass is too delicate for that kind of brute force; slow and steady is preferable to starting over because I shattered my project. Since that fight, though, I’ve made a point of increasing my heat and cold combat potential, but I still require several seconds to kindle a flame, or to sap the energy from an area and freeze a potential opponent. Maybe if I—

“Again,” Ezio demands, breaking into my daydream.

I let out a soft groan, but turn my attention back to the task at hand. Ezio is pacing with his hands clasped behind his back, his brow drawn in a permanent furrow of disapproval. “Draw the mana out of your channels more slowly. You’re tugging at the energy like a child worrying at a loose thread in his jacket. Keep pulling like that, and you’re liable to unravel the entire thing.”

I bite back an irritable reply about how I have to practice my speed, and settle instead for simply nodding. Part of me is grateful to have finished with theory work for the day, but my body is getting restless. We’re holed up in his office, going into the fifth hour of our studies, and I’ve grown to despise the two paintings in the otherwise austere space. Why he has two different scenes on his walls—a field full of daffodils on one side, and a lonely stretch of misty seashore on the other—is beyond me. I’ve stared at them for too long, but I’m no closer to finding any answers. I release my hold on my Skill, take a deep breath, and start over.

My fingers tremble slightly at the raw, drained feeling of my inner being, but I shut out the minor irritation. What’s a little pain? The phrase has become my unofficial motto lately. I’ll never ascend the heights if I’m afraid of the foothills. I refocus and thread a little mana into the black ink pattern that Ezio has inscribed on the paper before me.

“Better. Don’t lose your command, however. Feebleness isn’t the answer, either. Keep it steady and even. You are improving, believe it or not. Progress is never easy.”

I’m grateful for the unexpected praise, but the words are just enough to break my fragile concentration. I put up a cursory struggle, but with a curse, the mana fizzles.

“Are you sure this is going to lead to me developing a new Skill? We’ve been at this for dozens of hours this week, and I still don’t see a thing. Once the mana leaves my body, unless it’s a direct application of my Skill, I lose all connection to the energy flows.”

“Dozens! Of! Hours!” Ezio mocks, chiding me with a wag of his finger. “Talk to me when you’ve labored and bled for years without fruition. These things take time. You are improving.”

“I’ll take your word for it, and pay you in the meantime” I say, laughing. “Funny how you are the only one who can gauge my progress. I just have to trust you that I’m on the right path, as long as I keep your coffers full.”

“Cynicism is a tired look on a young man,” Ezio replies smoothly. “I suppose if you want proof, you could try the mana control test again.”

I wrinkle my nose at the suggestion, and he enjoys a dry chuckle at my expense. “No, I thought not. But you have worked hard without seeing any tangible results yet, and I don’t want to lose a student to discouragement. Perhaps a bit of motivation is in order?”

I pause midway through drumming my fingers on the top of his desk. “I think I’ve had my fill of your particular brand of motivation.”

“Ah, but this is the proverbial carrot to the stick,” Ezio assures me, leaning against the desk to see the pattern on the mana paper. “Right now you’re roughly a third of the way through this drill. If you can complete it by the weekend, then I’ll write to an old acquaintance of mine and ask if he has any words of wisdom to pass along. He’s a fighter, so we’ll keep things to ourselves and not involve Ember. She really wants you to stay safe.”

“So she is trying to steer me away from combat,” I say, my voice as sour as vinegar in my ears. “I suspected as much, but I wanted to think better of her.”

Ezio raises an eyebrow. “Naturally. It’s wise for her to protect her employees.”

“Seems like exploitation,” I grumble.

“You have other job offers? Or perhaps another, hidden Class to fall back on? Don’t be an ingrate. She is looking out for your long-term welfare.”

I push my chair back, although it doesn’t scrape on the rug, so the gesture is far less dramatic than I had in mind. I slouch back in my seat and give Ezio a half-shrug. “She’s putting an artificial cap on my potential. I don’t like it. Now tell me more about this friend of yours, and why I should give two glass chips about what he has to say.”

“Right! You may be familiar with him. He’s an [Expert Scout[ in the Royal army. Mage Bane brigade. His name is Tem—”

“Cytekin!” I shout, cutting off Ezio as I leap to my feet in shocked excitement.

Ezio’s face remains impassive, but the spark in his eye betrays his amusement. “So, do we have a deal?”

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth? Why would a legend like that have any idea who you are?” I demand, arms crossed. He’s not going to play me for a fool.

Ezio slides open a drawer under the desk, withdraws a stack of papers bundled in twine, and slips out an envelope on the top. He hands it to me, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Go on, tell me that crest is counterfeit.”

I take the offered paper as though it’s a viper in disguise, my mind whirling as I try to puzzle out Ezio’s game. There’s no way he’s telling the truth. Is there? But the longer I stare at the crest on the envelope, tracing out the crimson outline of Tem Cytekin’s signet ring pressed into the wax, the more convinced I am that Ezio has handed me the genuine article.

“But . . . how?” I finally stammer.

“I did some freelance work for him for a while, many years ago. We still stay in touch if he runs into artificial aspects or puzzling mana constructs. Last night he used a signaling scroll to tell me that he’ll be in the area soon, and asked if I have anything interesting I’m researching. I have it on good authority that he’s likely to stay in town a few months. You could join us in the laboratory if you score well enough.”

I take in a shaky breath, my eyes narrowing as I regard Ezio in a new light. Maybe I’ve been underestimating the man. “Do you think he’d be amenable to giving me some pointers, or even taking me on an expedition into the forest? I’d make him anything he wants in the hot shop if he shows me how to hunt monsters.”

“Until you can mana imbue, I doubt your work will be able to tempt him much, Nuri. He’s used to masterwork gear, no offense.”

I sigh. “None taken. That’s beyond me still. But I have savings. Maybe I could hire him to help me out.”

“Let’s try to get through today’s lesson first,” Ezio chides, but there’s no real reprimand in his voice. He’s watching me with the kind of semi-detached certainty that an angler has when the fish on the line has tired itself swimming to and fro, and has only to be reeled into the boat. There’s no fight anymore; all that’s left is to land the catch. And we both know it’s true. I’m as good as caught, so I sit back down and nod.

“Give me a moment to replenish my reserves and to renew my focus. I’m all kinds of excited, and that’s likely to translate into poor control.”

“Shrewd. Maybe you are learning after all,” Ezio says in somewhat grudging approval. He unstoppers a decanter of mana-refreshing wine and pours a small glass for me. “Here, this will help. Not too much, now. You’re not used to this caliber of infusion, and I’d rather you didn’t pass out in my office.”

The first sip hits me like a runaway bull. I cough and sputter, but I refuse to give Ezio the satisfaction of seeing me beaten by a drink, so I drain the glass and set it down on the desk with an authoritative clink and a wide grin. “Watch me fly through this on my first try.”

“I’d rather save you the embarrassment and leave you to it. You’ll need more than a few hours before you’ve cracked this case,” Ezio replies, tidying his desk and shutting the drawer that he’d left open in his haste to hand me the stack of letters. “In the meantime, I’m heading to the archives—I’m chasing down a promising lead about glass [Artisans] of antiquity.”

That stops me in my tracks. I scoot my chair back, stand up, and bow to my [Teacher] with as much sincerity as I can muster. “I apologize for my snark. You’ve been very insightful all week, and I’ve ignored just how much work you’ve put into helping me. If you can provide me with a path forward as I explore the mysteries of glass, then I’ll be eternally grateful.”

Ezio rests his hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. “Young man, I’m just doing my job. You’re not the first reluctant scholar I’ve taught, and you won’t be the last. It’s a privilege to watch my charges flourish.”

With that, he coughs awkwardly, removes his hand, and scurries out of the room in the least dignified manner I’ve seen from him in our brief time together. “Don’t forget your homework for tomorrow morning, Nuri!” he calls before he slams the door behind him.

I chuckle, lace my fingers and crack my knuckles, and sit back down to tackle the mana puzzle. I’ll make Ezio proud of me yet.

=+=

A hand shaking my shoulder rouses me awake. I try to talk, but my mouth is drier than a kiln, and I can’t seem to open my lips. My head is pounding, as though all the blood in my body is rushing through my temples, and my eyeballs feel like I’ve got glass chips in them.

“Steady, now, Nuri. Drink this.” Ezio’s voice echoes far too loudly in my ears, which are still ringing from the backlash of cramming too much mana into that blasted paper. He presses a brackish, foul-smelling concoction against my parched lips and forces the cold liquid down my throat before I can protest.

Ezio breathes out a long suffering sigh. “Didn’t I tell you not to pass out in my office?”

I gag, but fighting back isn’t working very well in my current state. I can barely manage a coherent thought, let alone complex movement, but the liquid abomination coursing through my body snaps me out of my stupor. I gasp and sit upright, blinking.

Ezio picks up the paper and examines the pattern. His eyes glow briefly with the golden sheen of mana, and for a moment I think I’m starting to crack the code, but before I can latch onto the phenomenon, they glimmer and return to normal. Like most mana users, I can tell if someone in the immediate vicinity channels magic, but actually seeing the flows and colors of the various mana aspects remains beyond me.

He clicks his tongue and drops the paper back to the desk, shaking his head at me. “No success yet, but I can’t exactly call your efforts a failure, either.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I say, the words slurring like I’m drunk out of my mind.

“You’ve put yourself into a mana coma. It’s stupid, but I got here in time to save you from the worst of it. You should avoid lingering effects.”

I groan and lower my forehead to the desk. “Sounds like a failure to me.”

“The dedication required to get to this point is impressive. That’s what I applaud. You’ve been draining yourself regularly, despite the headaches, and tonight you kept trying to draw on more than you could hold. It’s not wise, but it takes guts. I thought you were going to try the other method, however?”

“Thanks. I think. Nothing like celebrating pigheadedness. And I’m doing them both at the same time . . .” I trail off. “Oh. There’s no way to test if one is working better than the other if I don’t separate out the times I try the two methods. I need a control time to set a baseline.”

Ezio gives me a thin smile. “Self-reflection. You love to see it in youth! You have to lean into your strengths, and stubbornness is definitely one of yours. Don’t knock it.”

“Careful, honorable professor. You’re in grave danger of developing a sense of humor.”

“Oh, ho! He’s making a full recovery, it would seem,” Ezio says dryly.

I glance out the window at the velvet cover of night, and massage my sore jaw muscles before replying. The simple act of speaking is tiresome work right now. “What took you so long, anyway? The last thing I remember is a stray thought about what I should do for dinner tonight. Apparently, I missed the dinner bell by a few hours.”

“Indeed. I got sidetracked by a discussion with a colleague who has been studying and cataloging the many differences between saltwater and freshwater crustaceans and shellfish. Fascinating developments!”

I snicker. “Did you at least bring me crab legs?”

“I have something better,” Ezio declares triumphantly, pulling out a packet from within his flowing black robes. “Read about his findings. I believe the salient portions to us can be found on page thirty-seven, if I understood his ramblings correctly.”

“I don’t think I will,” I mumble, clutching at my head. The pounding in my temples is only getting worse the longer we talk. “Just tell me why it’s relevant.”

“You are absolutely no fun at all,” Ezio complains. He taps on the top of the document with his forefinger. “Come on. Not even a paragraph?”

“Unnnhh," I groan. Eloquence is hard when my head feels like a powder keg on fire. “Can’t make me.”

“I’ll let you take a half day tomorrow if you read a full page about the proposed research into mimicking shell structural innovation. How’s that for incentive?”

“Anything to finish up our week more quickly,” I quickly agree. I’m learning a lot, but the constant pain and frustration is wearing on me. I need to go back to work—by which I mean I need a break.

Beaming, Ezio tosses me the sheaf of paper and sits down in his easy chair with an exaggerated sigh of contentment. He steeples his fingers and peers down his nose at me in expectation. [Scholars] are a sick lot. No research is ever that interesting.

I clear my throat a few times as I flip the pages to number thirty-seven, taking a severe pleasure in being obnoxious to Ezio without even having to pretend, and begin reading the neat, precise transcription from the [Scrivener].

Seashells come in thousands of shapes and sizes, but within their endless, mud-stained, salt-encrusted variety, patterns of similitude begin to appear. The infinite myriad of mysterious possibilities amid the mirrored principles of shell construction could likely form the subject of a lengthy discourse, but this humble treatise has a different focus: nacre, also known as mother of pearl.

“There’s more of this utter crap?” I exclaim indignantly, my eyes going cross-ways at the thought of willingly subjecting myself to this brand of academic torture. “Never mind. I will drive myself into another mana coma before I read any more of this drivel. I guess we’ll do a full day of study tomorrow after all, and gladly, if this is the price to pay for the alternative.”

“Oh, well, there’s no charitable way to put it. That’s an excruciating introduction,” Ezio says with a grimace. “I only read the abstract and spoke with my old friend—I didn’t know the writing was so poorly executed.”

I fix him with a long, flat stare. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Indubitably. Now, let me take pity on your suffering and skim through the rest so that you don’t have to suffer, my dear student.”

I try to roll my eyes, but effort just sets off another bout of nausea, so I settle for putting my head on the desk and groaning.

Ezio pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry, poor boy. Rest your little head. I will read aloud the more relevant portions about the strength found in layering. It’s got incredible potential!”

I have an inkling where Ezio is going, but I play dumb just to force him to say the words I want to hear from him. “Does it have potential insight for my mana sensing and manipulation? I don’t see the correlation.”

“What? No! Don’t be daft,” Ezio harrumphs. “Less than a week away from the studio and you’re already forgetting your roots in manual labor. Tell me, what do you know about composite materials vis-a-vis glass?”

I lift my head and paste on an innocent expression. “Oh, this is about glass? Amazing! I thought working with glass was useless compared with magic. Are you sure you didn’t make a mistake?”

Ezio’s eyes narrow dangerously, but he merely gives me a patronizing look. “That’s an unfortunate set of misconceptions. Remember: the medium changes, but the core principles do not—everything’s about magic, my dear student. Glass is ancillary, although it is your particular path to power.”

I scratch my jaw absently, considering his surprisingly insightful words. “I suppose that’s why a master [Artificer] is usually known for mana-imbuing. Craftsmanship is important, but only insofar as it’s the vehicle to allow magic to flourish.”

Ezio surprises me by clapping, and I wince as my ears ring. “Marvelous phrasing, Nuri! I couldn’t have put that better myself. There’s hope for your academic career yet.”

I stick out my tongue. “I’m not wasting a second Class on scholarship. Not a chance.”

Ezio waves me off. “You wouldn’t qualify, anyway. But not all things in life are Classes and Skills, just as not all magic is fueled by mana. They’re simply predominant and therefore the subject matter studied first. No sense in trying to fly before you can walk.”

He sniffs, looking down at me with an aggrieved expression. “Or, perhaps in your case, I should say before you can even crawl. Now, scurry home and get some proper rest. Tomorrow we’ll practice further with mana patterns, if you can handle it without throwing up. Then I’ve got a few glass commissions for you for next week, since your studies are at an end. We have an exciting lead to follow up on, however, so I’d like to keep working together. I owe it to my friend, after all. [Researchers] stick together.”

A lump forms in my throat at his veiled generosity. “You’re going to pay me to continue teaching me? I’ve never heard of a scholar doing that instead of taking money in exchange for passing on knowledge.”

Ezio hefts his money pouch. “Will five gold do the trick? I want an exclusive rush order.”

“I won’t leave the studio until it’s done,” I vow, my headache already receding in the face of naked avarice.

“Good. It’s settled then, provided that you can finish that pattern and earn some of Tem’s time. You are providing the Silaraon City Academy with valuable research information. It’s only responsible to ensure I see things through.”

I offer him a slight bow. “I’m grateful. You’ve been an excellent teacher. And a better man. Thank you.”

“Hmph. Don’t show that sentimentality in public,” Ezio grouses. “It will ruin my sterling reputation.”

=+=

Life in the glassworks resumes with familiar rhythm, except now that I have a premium rush order, I have my very own workbench. Completing the mana pattern on my last day studying with Ezio was one of the most satisfying experiences of my life, and it’s already paying off in incredible ways. Even Ember congratulated me, although she ruined the moment by asking how long it will take until I pay her back by learning to mana imbue. I knew she had an ulterior motive for sending me to Ezio, although I can’t complain too much. I’m benefiting from her investment.

Lionel gives me a thumbs-up when saunters in a few minutes after the bell announcing the start of the morning shift. He shrugs off the [Foreman]’s admonishments and joins me at the workbench, whistling and drawing way too much attention. “Look at you, Nuri! A bigshot now, installed at the prestigious workbench number one.”

Several of the more tenured workers scowl at me, and I can’t really blame them. I still haven’t shed my [Assistant] Class prefix. Undaunted, I jog over to the crucible to grab a scoop of molten glass. I’m rolling out thin sheets today, so I need a big batch to keep up with the sheer volume of material required.

“You survived!” Avelina exclaims in mock surprise, bustling up from our right. She plops down on a stool next to the workbench to greet me as I run back from the crucible.

“Ezio is even more demanding than Ember, but he’s smart,” I call back instead of offering a proper greeting. I’m too focused to spare any niceties since I’m jogging with a massive metal scoop, like an oversized shovel, instead of the usual rod that I wield for smaller pieces. As soon as I draw near enough, I spin the scoop and slap the glowing orange blob of glass inside onto the metal slab on top of the workbench. Another two [Assistants] run up behind me with their own scoop, and soon a mound of molten glass gleams on the workstation.

I snatch up a two-pronged fork and turn the clump of glass, marveling at how I’ve grown stronger thanks to Ember and Mikko. The huge clump of amalgamated glass is heavier than a similar chunk of concrete, thanks to the quasi-magical materials we added as flux. My tools look like a kitchen ladle and serving fork for a giant, but I’m able to swing them around with relative ease now.

Strong body, strong mind, as Mikko likes to say, although I always make fun of him that it’s clearly not working in his case.

“Make yourself useful if you’re taking up space,” I tease Avelina, nudging her with my toe and earning a dirty look in return. “I need to roll the glass out into sheets; this is just the first one of the day.”

Avelina usually doesn’t work with anyone but Melina, but she obliges, summoning forth a flame to keep the glass at the temperature I prefer while I wheel over the heavy assembly of huge metal rollers. I spin a winch on the side, narrowing the gap between the metal rollers until a single piece of paper will barely fit between them. Once the roller is eventually calibrated to my specification, I spread out the clumped mound of glowing glass, stretching it almost like dough until I’m satisfied with its dimensions. I feed the edge of the glass between the rollers, pressing the red-orange mixture flat onto a waiting metal tray.

“Can you keep this malleable? I’ve gotta get the next batch,” I call over my shoulder as I jog back to the crucible. Avelina scrunches up her nose, but to my surprise, she keeps working the flame, following my request without any complaint. Maybe she misses me.

I wave away the heat from in front of my face, reducing the warping effect in the air so I can see more clearly. Gray metal arches converge into a point reaching toward the top of the ceiling. Several crucibles in a row form the metallic structure of the furnace. I grab another of the scoops, which are made from some sort of special alloy designed to resist the extreme heats in this part of the studio, and ferry another load back to my workbench.

“I’ll take back over with [Heat Manipulation] in a moment. Could you keep this new batch warm while I get more? I appreciate your help.”

“Curious what you’re making. Ember’s eyes bugged out when she saw the order. I won’t get the juiciest gossip sitting with my boring sister.”

I retrieve another two scoops and add them to the mix, stirring up the batch and using my Skill to check the heat and consistency of the glass before judging the mixture ready to roll out. The first sheet I’ve moved to a cooling rack, where it’s annealing quickly thanks to Melina, who wandered over to check on her sister while I was gone.

I pause for a moment, keeping the heat steady with deft mana manipulation. “I’m always happy to see you, but don’t you two have your own projects to work on? I don’t want Ember to get on my case about distracting you.”

“We’re a team. That means she doesn’t get to have fun without me,” Melina replies, her face completely impassive.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

“That’s because you’re bad at reading people, Nuri. This is my favorite part of the day. I am having the time of my life. With my sister. And with our friend, who’s clearly got some stories to tell.” She coughs, prompting me to speak. Subtlety isn’t her game.

I meet Melina’s eyes and smirk, not saying anything while I press the next batch of glass flat between the rollers, letting her grow anxious. She remains outwardly cool and collected, but I know from past experience that it’s a brittle facade. Just like glass, she looks impressive, but she will always crack under real pressure.

“Nuri! Stop being mean,” Avelina chides me, kicking me in the shins. “Answer my poor sister before she suffers another nervous breakdown.”

“Ava!” Melina hisses. “Seriously? That was one time, and it was eight years ago! I’m well past that kind of behavior. When are you going to let it go?”

“With beautiful reactions like that?” Avelina’s eyes glint. “Probably not until our dotage. Which may come sooner than expected for you, given your propensity to—”

“Please just help me anneal the next sheet,” I interrupt, catching Melina’s eye to make sure she’s taking things in stride. The Linas like to tease, but sometimes Avelina takes it too far. I’ve been on the receiving end of her barbs more than once. “I’ll tell you more about Ezio if you two stop fighting like alley cats.”

Melina snatches away the second sheet, holding it firmly in place with her trademark [Lesser Object Manipulation] Skill. She examines the thin glass with a faint frown, then nods and adds it to the first sheet for combination treatment from [In the Blink of an Eye] and [Flawless Annealing]. “Pfft, a stereotypical accusation, accusing women of cattiness. You really shouldn’t devolve into such lazy comparisons. Surely you can do better than that, Nuri.”

“I’m just calling it as I see it,” I reply lightly. “Keep those sheets cooling. I’ve got to mix up a new batch. If you’re able to extend your influence from the other side of the studio, come with me and I’ll tell you all about the mana control test. Worst pain of my life!”

“Huh. Intriguing. I’ve always assumed that the worst pain was when Avelina singed your eyebrows off when she first learned [Flametouch].”

“That’s still second,” I hasten to assure her, wincing at the traumatizing memory. “But I’ve never experienced anything that claws and burns at my insides like a mana control test. It’s the most fiendish invention known to mankind. If I ever meet the inventor, why, I’ll shake his hand and thank him for developing such a clever contraption. And then I’ll punch him in the face and call him a blight upon humanity.”

“Sounds like a kindred spirit!” Avelina says cheerfully as she marches across the shop next to me. “I wanna try it. Ohh, and I’ll bet the students at the academy are all fancy and rich. Did you meet anyone cute? Sounds dreamy!”

“Trust me, you don’t want to try it. Taking in foreign mana is like fire ants marching up your arm, holding a parade inside your stomach, and then dancing their way out your other arm while kicking you the entire time.”

Avelina leans in conspiratorially, her eyes alight with a spark of fire mana. “Did you learn a new Skill? Tell me you at least got to experience the glorious sensation of burning things with fire mana!”

“No new Skills. I’m doomed to an eternity of mediocrity.” I laugh as I drag open the heavy sliding door to the glass stores. We keep them well insulated in case of an accidental fire in the hot shop; if the glass reserves melted, we’d all be in big trouble. “Besides, Ezio won’t let me play with any exciting mana aspects. It’s all artificial and academic strands right now.”

A bloom of white flame appears over her hands. “I’ll bet he listens if I have a little chat with him, if you catch my meaning. Just say the word, Nuri!”

Melina slaps her sister’s hand, dousing the flame. “Door’s open, you idiot! No fire in the glass room. You know better.”

We all glance around, but Ember isn’t in sight. We’re safe from a severe scolding, unless one of the other workers rats us out. Avelina doesn’t have the good graces to appear ashamed, but I know that Ember will let her have it if she finds out.

Inside the glass storehouse, I shut the door behind us and run my hand over a raised rune enchanted for mana-powered light, so that we can see the various glass chips, chemicals, and flux in the storage room. Only magical illumination is allowed near the glass as a safety measure—a rule that Avelina knows as well as any of us. She’s fortunate we’re not getting kicked out for the day, or docked pay for her thoughtlessness.

I rummage through the bins, searching for the right ingredients for a flexible acrylic. The first bin holds a smattering of grey and black mottled rocks, but I’m not familiar enough with the material to know if it will suit. “Melina, can you test these with your composition Skill? They don’t seem to have the right properties, but I can’t confirm.”

“What are you looking for? Never got the full rundown, just a series of grumblings about the agony of mana control training.”

“There’s a lot more of that, trust me! As for material: I need something flexible, preferably almost like a putty after it anneals. I’m going to sandwich it between the other sheets, and then re-heat and compress the entire thing. I might need an actual press for that, unless you’ve gone and gotten the upgraded version of [Object Manipulation] while I’ve been studying.”

“Intriguing. What are you planning on doing with that particular combination, Nuri? It’s a lot of work for a flat bit of glass. You’re usually more . . . fanciful . . . with your artwork.”

“Should I feel insulted? I think I should feel insulted.”

“Definitely,” Avelina chimes in. “Whenever Melina pauses like that before searching for the right word, she’s trying to hide that she looks down on you.”

“Ava! That’s not true. I don’t look down on Nuri at all. He’s an extremely bright, talented [Glassworker], and he’s one of the few crafters in this entire studio who’s worth anything. He can do more with his own two hands than most people can do with half a dozen Skills and a lifetime of practice. He’s earned every bit of glass artistry he has. Why do you always say such hateful things about me?”

I snicker at the distressed look on Melina’s face. “Stuff it, you two. It’s a good question. I’m not so fragile that I’ll shatter if you bump me. And to address your question, Mel, the answer is found in 'the infinite myriad of mysterious possibilities in seashell structures.’”

The Linas exchange confused glances, and I can’t help myself. I chortle as I remember the ridiculous opening statements in the introduction to the properties of nacre, or mother of pearl as it’s more commonly known. “I’ll have to show you the research paper sometime. Turns out that Ezio is probably the most normal of his peers. The rest of the Silaraon City Academy folk are downright weird.”

Melina taps her finger against her pursed lips. “Seashell structures, huh? You’re trying to copy a property found in nature. I’m not sure which property, but Ezio thinks that the material is useful for some reason.”

“Impact-resistance. Ezio speculates that with only a thin sheet of the right compounds, we can absorb kinetic force with roughly the same efficiency as basic enchanted armor. This way is likely a bit more expensive, but also far more accessible for non-[Enchanters]. Any of us could theoretically make it once we find the right materials and properties.”

“If it’s expensive, then why would a noble choose it over an enchanted set?” Avelina asks, butting in with a frown.

“Because future iterations will likely discover more inexpensive materials. And anyone with glass skills will be able to replicate it, whereas enchantments require a specific Class and mana Skills. We could license it out to other studios and eventually streamline the process. We’ll see how it turns out.”

Mel purses her lips, humming thoughtfully to herself. “Good luck with that, Nuri. You’re probably years out from any meaningful production capabilities.”

Avelina pokes me in the ribs. “Ignore Mel’s pessimism. I want a suit of armor!”

“Sure, you can commission one after Ezio and I are done experimenting on the ideal glass composition. I’ll even give you a twenty-five percent discount for helping me,” I reply, savoring her reproachful glare.

“You’re as bad as Ember. As tight-fisted as they come,” Avelina pouts.

“It’s good business practice,” her twin retorts. “Now that I have a clearer picture of what Nuri’s planning, I think it’s genius, although I still think it’s a long way off. Can we invest in your scheme once you’re closer to realizing the goal?”

I scratch the back of my head awkwardly. “I’m just getting started. No plans yet. I won’t say no to money, but I’ll need to talk with Ezio about a plan. He’s smarter than I want to give him credit for, and he has surprisingly good contacts around the country.”

Melina nodded slowly, processing my words. “Sounds like you respect him. That’s rare for you. I’d like to meet him. Do you think he’d be amenable to working with me, too?”

“Rare?” I splutter. “You make it sound like I’m some sort of ingrate who doesn’t respect anyone! I’m not an uncultured brute. Most of the time.”

The Linas just exchange knowing smirks.

“Fine, fine. Let’s just keep looking for the things we need. I fumble with a folded piece of paper in my pocket, and hand it over to Melina. “Here’s a list of potential materials that Ezio provided me for our trial run. I don’t really see any matches for any of the chips available here in the storehouse. Help me check the order lists to see if we have any better options.”

“Do you have a budget?” Melina asks, scanning the list. “Or are you paying out of pocket and hoping Ezio reimburses your expenses?”

“He gave me an advance, held in escrow by his cousin, who happens to be a big shot [Merchant]. I can fill any required order through him, and he’ll take care of the rest.”

Avelina snorts. “You trust him not to rip you off?”

“Yeah, his cousin has a mana-binding Skill. [Trustworthy Transactions]. Better than using the bank and paying a fee.”

“And you know this because . . . Ezio told you?”

I shake my head at Melina, tutting as though I’m disappointed. “So suspicious. Do you really think I’m that dumb?”

“Yes,” the Linas chorus.

I stick out my tongue at the two of them. “I checked the Silaraon city registries. He’s certified, so I think I’m all set.”

“Prudent,” Melina allows.

Avelina mimes wiping away tears. “It’s like he’s growing up right before our eyes. Our little Nuri! Who’d have thought?”

“Your discount is plummeting by the moment.”

“Twenty percent is fine. I’m rich, since I don’t waste my money on hitting big metal toys in the backyard like you. I can get two suits of armor if I feel like it,” Avelina says airily.

“Oh? In that case, it sounds like you’re gonna pay extra for the privilege of becoming an early adopter.”

“At this rate, there won’t be anything to adopt,” Melina points out. “Let’s get that order list finalized, or you won’t have a product to sell.”

“Ah. Friends. Where would I be without you?”

“Probably drunk in a ditch again,” Avelina cackles, poking me in the ribs again.

I strike a pose, my right hand over my heart, and attempt to look affronted. “I’ll have you know that I’m moving up in the world, thanks to my overflowing talent and natural charm. I won’t listen to your baseless accusations!”

“It’s not baseless if it’s already happened,” Melina interjects. “In your defense, that was a very potent mulled wine at the lamp lighting festival. I felt tipsy, and you know I barely touch the stuff! Besides, Ava does like to sensationalize one-time events.”

“Like your nervous breakdowns?” I reply innocently. “Can’t forget that!”

“Exactly,” Melina says with a nod. Then her expression darkens like rolling storm clouds on a hot summer day. “Hey, wait a minute! I thought you were on my side!”