Coda

The bat scion nervously pores over his blueprints, feeling like each glance reveals a new design flaw. But any fix would require a full redesign! While he’s confident the structure will hold, he wants it to be perfect! As his nerves threaten to overwhelm him, he feels the soothing hand of the Foreman through the bond.

It will be fine. He ran the numbers, Queen has checked his math, and even Foreman Thedeim approves of the design. Coda is still a bit uncertain about the numbers they settled on for the force of winds against the structure, but the kinds of forces that it would take to actually topple it are… staggering.

He might not be so nervous about the whole thing if the leader of the local delvers wasn’t so interested in the project, as well as in Coda’s other experiments. It’s just… unsettling to have someone from outside not only see his ideas, but want to help to make them a reality. It’s somehow both encouraging and terrifying!

He managed to badger a deadline out of Coda for the construction to begin, and said deadline is rapidly approaching! Another soothing pat comes through the bond, and Coda closes his eyes and takes a breath. He’s taken every precaution he could think of, and then doubled the strength on top of that. He just has to trust the math and hope his safety factor is enough to handle whatever variables he managed to miss.

He tears his focus from the plans, and instead to the expanded workshop he’s been given to help with the production, and the ratlings dutifully preparing sacks of the dry mix, making the hollow blocks, and winding the chosen silk into large spools to help reinforce the structure. Other ratlings have been making simple boats and carts to help transport everything, as well as mixing troughs and buckets. Poe tells him the masons from outside are preparing, and seem to have even hired a boat to help ferry goods, but Coda is uncertain how much of their expertise he’ll actually be able to use. Perhaps a stonework facade? While Coda is confident in the strength of his design, he’s less confident in the looks.

Though he probably will require their help with the various archways. The blocks lend themselves to square openings, which is terrible for stability. With their help, he may be able to cut the bricks into proper arches, or have them make them out of stone. He’ll need to run the numbers on that later. While he has the designs for the arches done in the reinforced concrete blocks, he’s starting to be concerned about how to actually build them to specifications.

Probably another thing to lean on the masons for. He’d feel worse about it, if the Foreman didn’t seem so amused. From what he can glean from the bond, crossing the gulf between design and actually building is just part of the process. He’s at least tested most of the planned methods to ensure they actually work, so he’s confident his designs won’t fail on that front, at least. Mostly. The arches will be fine. Right?

He sighs to himself and takes a closer look at his arch design. The web is set in an arc, the concrete poured, tension applied… his eyes widen at the final step, and he sees what’s been niggling at the back of his mind. When the tension is applied, the webbing will want to straighten out, not stay in the nice smooth curve! He needs archways, not traingleways!

His rising panic is interrupted by a happy and curious voice from behind him.

“What’re you doing?”

He manages no not scream from being startled, though the charcoal stick in his wingclaw goes flying as he turns. He relaxes when he sees it’s just Jello.

“Oh, it’s just you, Jello. I’m… well, I found an issue with the design, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Can Jello help?” she asks. Though Coda doubts it, he also doubts she’d hurt anything.

“Maybe? Here, see this design?” He motions for her to examine the blueprint, and she does.

“Lines in blocks?” she asks, not quite understanding what she’s looking at. Coda just nods and gets a few scrap lengths of web.

“Here, hold this one like this, this one like this…” he guides her through the process of aligning the webbing within herself, and makes a mental note to get her help with things like this more often. Paper is good for getting the numbers, but this could be invaluable for actually moving from theory to application.

Jello still doesn’t seem to understand what he’s doing, but she’s happy to play along and hold the lines as he asks. Soon enough, Coda steps back and nods. “Right, so, I need these lines of web to give strength to the thing I’m building. What I’m using is like a thick mud, so it can hold the strings like that when we pour it in, but then the strings need to be tightened. Hold them at the bottom, and I’ll pull at the top,” he instructs, and Jello follows the directions.

She giggles a bit when the lines straighten out from his pulling, and he sighs at that. “And that’s the problem. I need them to stay in the curve when I put tension on them.” To his surprise, Jello seems to understand.

“Ah, Jello sees. She knows how hard it can be to keep a shape. Hmm…” The webbing twists and moves inside her as she plays with the lines for a few minutes, and Coda watches, wondering if she might figure something out.

“Hmm… this is harder than being a cube. It reminds Jello of when she tried to be a sphere. She had to give up on that,” she admits, little bubbles percolating through her as she thinks. “Maybe Tiny would know?”

“Tiny?” echoes Coda, confused what the Guardian would have to contribute.

“Yes. Tiny makes these strings, maybe he knows how to get them to behave?”

Coda stares at her for a few moments, before reaching up and pulling on both of his ears. “Of course! He’s a spider, he’d know!” He takes to the air, but swoops back when Jello yells after him.

“Wait for Jello! She wants to help!”

It doesn’t take them too long to get to Tiny’s lair, thanks to the shortcuts, and the gigantic spider regards his fellow scions with the detached interest that spiders watch the entire world.

“Ah, Coda and Jello. How long has it been since we’ve had some time together? What brings you to my lair?” he asks as he settles himself on the thick webbing covering the ground.

“Strings!” replies Jello with excitement, showing several little bows she’s managed to tie the webbing inside herself into.

“I’ve found a flaw in my archway design, and I was hoping you’d be able to offer some guidance with it?”

Tiny chuckles and nods. “I was wondering why the Weave was suggesting I’d be needed for my skills, rather than my size today. What is the problem?”

Coda and Jello quickly show him the issue, and he nods sagely. “Ah, I see. Well… it’s been some time since I had the need to weave in a corner, but I remember the process,” he says as he gets his spinnerets moving. In about a minute, he hands Jello some web. “Stretch this out inside yourself, please.”

She’s all too happy to oblige, and Coda is more than a little surprised to see half an arch form. He moves to test the tension, reaching into Jello to test the lines. “A strong line from the top of the archway to the base, then other lines along that one to bring it into the desired shape,” he absently says, locking the process into his mind as he pokes and prods at the work, then frowns.

“It’s only in two dimensions right now, though,” he says, tapping a wingclaw to his chin as he thinks.

Tiny gives an apologetic look to the bat. “Most webs are flat, yes. I’ve made ones that aren’t, but I don’t know how structurally sound they are. I wouldn’t try to hang from one.”

“I think… here, try this, Jello…” says Coda, the shape slowly taking form in his mind as he works to help it take shape in Jello, too. He starts with a wide cone of webbing, before quickly moving to a cylinder. A loop of webbing pinches it into an hourglass shape, and Coda grins as he adds more.

He settles into a rhythm as he guides the webbing, his mind’s eye able to see the lines of web that would be in the full structure of the lighthouse, and how to integrate the lines of the archway to keep everything in tension without focusing too much force in any single spot.

He smiles to himself and plucks one of the strings, savoring the resonance. It takes him a moment to realize more than just the webbing is resonating. His Architect title is resonating, too, and he feels like it’s off-pitch. And then it shifts. He gasps as it corrects itself, finally clicking properly with his purpose. The weight of a new affinity, knowledge, settles on his back, and it just feels right.

A Civil Artificer needs to know a lot of things if he doesn’t want his works to collapse, after all.