Steel and Mana

Chapter 312 – Refined

"You have already cracked it?" I asked, surprised but not that much. When the report arrived that my people in Atuvia intercepted a message heading to Ishillia, I had a hunch it was because of its magical properties. True enough, after delivering the specimens and their full report, we managed to catch it because our soldiers were equipped with our latest inventions, alerting them to the presence of magic. Even if it was faint.

"Yes," Merlin answered proudly, entering my office, carrying a paper that had the transcript of the decoded message. "It was aimed at someone named Barth, probably the leading mage who established the anti-magic wall around the north."

"Speaking of that, I have news about it, but first, let's talk about the message." I nodded, taking the letter from him to read.

"I inspected the pigeon, too; it is just a regular animal. Nothing extra. The only unnatural part was the ring, containing a magically transcribed report."

"Which means our spy is either a mage..." I muttered, knowing that shouldn't be the case, or we would have already discovered that detail.

"Or she has one in Atuvia working with her."

"Yeah. Send a message to our people to be extra careful. I don't want another situation like Otto's."

With that, I looked back at the letter detailing her visit to Avalon, which made me smile. The way she described my city made me proud of what we achieved, painting it as such a dreadful and dangerous place—something they should be focused on conquering—not destroying, but conquering.

"So, she didn't learn much," I mumbled, finishing the letter and putting it down.

"Only surface-level information and the description of our train with some educated guesses that I found relevant. The surprising part was that she guessed many things right, like using coal to boil water and using the steam as some kind of moving force. She has a good head on her shoulders. What are your plans, Leon?"

"For now? Nothing much. Can you repackage the message?" I asked, scratching my chin.

"I can, without issue." He nodded confidently.

"Good. Then let's do that. This message won't be altered; let it reach its endpoint. Don't forget to bring the bird back to its place and let it fly its original path; if it arrives from a different angle, it would be suspicious. Tell our agents to keep an eye out for messages coming and going that way; we will intercept them and read them first. If Otto managed to feed us false information in honor of our fallen girls, I will do the same to them."

"With pleasure." Merlin smiled in agreement, "I would have sent the bird back to its place of capture anyway; because of the magic barrier, it couldn't have flown home from the north."

"That depends on how high a pigeon can fly." I hummed, making him raise his eyebrows, remembering what I said. "Oh? Did Kustov manage to find the limit?"

"Yep." I chuckled, rummaging in my desk's drawer, pulling out his full report, and giving it to Merlin. "7,500 meters or so. The Camelot managed to measure that above 7,500 meters, our enemies' magic finally fizzles out. We can simply fly over their prison wall."

"Hah! They would never have thought about that!" He laughed, running his eyes through the documents. "And we would be invisible in doing so."

"We can also do multiple trips." I continued, standing up, walking to my window, looking out at the snowfall. "We can cross over, paradropping troops behind their backs."

"You already have plans?" He perked up, ignoring the fact he didn't understand what paradropping meant.

"Some," I chuckled, turning back toward him. "I would task Elliot and Mirian with amassing their forces and lining them up at the borders, drawing the attention of this Barth guy. If there are more messages between the spy and him, we can also feed him the information that we are planning on two things. One would be a frontal assault, the second that an elite force would cross over Atuvia to flank them."

"It would also give him a reason to think he understands why we are building the railroad on foreign soil..." Merlin muttered, his brain already thinking through my idea.

"And split his attention, preparing for that moment we try to stab him in the sides. Which would make him weaken his forces on our borders so he has enough people reinforcing the part with Atuvia. Where we should be coming from. He can't take it easily, as our elite force killed Otto. If we planned and timed it well, we would have a window where we could take him by surprise and crush his troops."

"You mentioned... paradropping. What would that mean?"

"I would need to train our soldiers first, and if we implement anti-gravity into the suits well, we could do it more precisely than anybody in my old life..." I muttered, "It would mean that our soldiers would jump off the Camelot and land behind enemy lines. While Mirian and Elliot attack from the front lines, drawing Barth's attention, our elite catches him in the back. Plus..."

"Plus?"

"We can descend down on them from above and drop the mechs straight on their heads. Of course, this needs proper planning and designing, but the idea is there. Still... we need to win it in one fell swoop because if not, the army he sent to Atuvia's borders would rush back, and then we would be caught in a pincer-like move, outplaying ourselves."

"If we do it... how much time do we need to prepare? Or how much do we have?"

"Not much!" I answered with a sigh, "I don't know how well prepared the Geth Empire is, but... they have been besieging the south for a year now. They will break soon, that is my honest opinion, as they have been bashing their heads against a solid wall of Ishillian defenses. When that happens, Pascal will bring down the hammer and..."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"If he secures the south, he will turn towards us with his full attention." Merlin shrugged, coming to the same conclusion as I did.

"Yeah. So, whatever happens, we will have to launch our attack next year."

"Would we be ready? No... we would be. But would Mirian and Elliot be ready?" he asked, honestly having no idea. Neither did I.

"We have to assume we all would be. With the tattoo upgrades and with the Camelot? At least, we can take them on. We have an advantage. We can't wait for too long, though, or we let the situation slip. The time we have to build up our forces is also a time for Pascal to prepare against us; it is a double-edged sword. So... I am going to risk it."

"Understood." He stood up, saluting after a moment of silence, "I will also prepare plans while consulting with General Oleg. I will visit the Pass tomorrow."

"Mhm. By his latest report, our harvest is going well." I chuckled, recalling his words, "It has proved to be also excellent training for our soldiers, getting used to using tattoos and conserving the blood while fighting the incoming beasts."

"I was thinking about it." Merlin exclaimed, snapping his fingers, "Previously, there were times when other beasts herded smaller ones towards us, no? Could this also be something like this? They have been coming constantly this winter. It honestly seems as if the monsters are trying to tire us out."

"Maybe. Who knows! If they are attempting to do that, though..." I grinned at him, "They are simply gifting us raw resources."

...
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The outside chill of the winter was barely noticeable in Avalon's newly built refinery. Not even its walls were frosted with ice, thanks to the roaring fires that burned within. Outside, snow was falling, and it blanketed the ground, muffling all sound save for the occasional gust of wind that howled through the empty land. The whole refinery was out of place, away from people; it was built hours away from Avalon for safety reasons. Still, inside the refinery, the air was buzzing and alive with the excitement of the group working on their assigned mission. The team of alchemists, engineers, and specialists huddled around a series of interconnected pipes, vats, and furnaces, their faces illuminated by the glow of the electrified lamps above.

Marca stood at the forefront, her features more chaotic than ever before after months of relentless work, leading the project as the Head Alchemist of Avalon. Her gloved hands held a clipboard filled with notes, diagrams, and calculations that had been scribbled, erased, and re-scribbled countless times. Nearby, her now main helping hand, Edmund, adjusted the flow of liquid through a series of glass tubes, his focus unwavering despite the late hour in the evening and staying up for thirty hours straight. The faint smell of sulfur and heated metal permeated the air around them, but none of the people within the project noticed it anymore.

“How’s the pressure holding?” Marca asked, her voice steady but laced with a hint of anxiety. She had overseen this project since its beginning, and every failure they had since then weighed heavily on her shoulders. Even if the Sovereign never admonished them, they did have multiple failed attempts, one that even resulted in a partial leak and subsequent fire. Luckily, nothing substantial was damaged, and nobody was lost to the dangerous fumes escaping into the facility.

“Holding steady at 120 units,” Kamu, another chemist in the group, answered her sharply. He adjusted a valve with planned care, knowing by instinct how much he had to turn it. “The new seals we added last month are doing their job.”

“Good,” Marca said, exhaling slowly. “Lorkhan, how’s the distillation column?”

“Heat levels are consistent,” The man answered without looking up, his covered hand tapping against a thermometer. “The kerosene should start separating any moment now. But we need to keep the temperature within five degrees of the target, or the whole batch could go to waste.”

Hearing him, Marca nodded and turned to Edmund, who was by now hovering near a smaller contraption at the corner of the room, constantly measuring and keeping track of the changes.

“Anything?” Marca asked.

“Not yet, but everything’s aligned perfectly." He answered without looking back, "If this works, we’ll have our first stable batch of kerosene. One without any defects or impurities.”

“If,” Marca murmured, though she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. This time... it must work.

The team fell into a tense silence, broken only by the hiss and pop of steam escaping from the pipes. Outside, the wind picked up speed, crashing against the walls of the refinery, but inside, it was as if time had stopped. Everyone present was waiting, feeling as if time refused to move at its normal speed, teasing them as a prank.

“Pressure spiking at 125!” Kamu called out suddenly, his voice sharp and alarming. “We’re approaching the red zone!”

“Lorkhan!” Marca barked, but he was already moving toward the pressure gauge.

“On it!” He answered, twisting a dial to lower the heat. “It’s stabilizing… 122… 121… okay, it is back to normal.”

Marca couldn't help but let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Good save. We can’t afford another meltdown...”

“Tell that to my nerves,” Lorkhan muttered, earning a nervous chuckle from Edmund, who was also quick to jump in and help stabilize the system.

Once again, minutes passed like hours, and the tension in the room became almost unbearable. The team’s progress had been incremental, with every breakthrough accompanied by setbacks. But tonight felt different. There was an energy in the air, a sense that success was finally within reach.

“We’re hitting the separation point,” Edmund announced, his voice steady but tinged with bubbling excitement. He just didn't want to jinx it... With a hand, he gestured toward the distillation column, where a thin, clear liquid was beginning to flow into a collection vessel. Marca's heart raced as she came over and leaned closer, her breath fogging the glass.

“Is it…?”

“Kerosene,” Edmund confirmed with a triumphant smile. “Pure and stable.”

A cheer erupted from the team, a sound of unrestrained joy that echoed through the refinery. Months of grueling work were finally paying off.

“We did it!” Edmund exclaimed, his face flushed with pride, feeling safe enough to finally say the words. “It’s working! The process works!”

Marca also allowed herself a rare grin as she straightened up next to him.

“Not just works. It’s repeatable. That was our main goal... to be able to do it without issues. This is our greatest breakthrough!”

After the mood finally settled, Marca poured a small sample of the kerosene into a vial and held it up to the light. The liquid glowed faintly, its clarity a testament to the team’s hard work and perseverance.

“This will change everything,” she said, her voice filled with awe.

“Let’s test it,” Lorkhan spoke, his tone giddy in excitement. “Edmund, light it up!”

Edmund eagerly grabbed a small burner explicitly designed for the purpose, making him feel a sense of deja vu. He poured a few drops of kerosene into the burner’s reservoir and struck a flint. A steady, bright flame sprang to life, burning clean and even. The team watched in silence, the reality of their achievement genuinely settling in.

“It’s beautiful,” Kamu whispered softly, his eyes reflecting the flame.

“We’re going to remember this night for the rest of our lives. You’ve all done something extraordinary." Marca clapped, looking at her team, "Take a moment to let it sink in… and then get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll start scaling up. Avalon, our Sovereign, needs his fuel. We will deliver it without any more delays!”

As the team began to relax and exchange congratulations, Edmund stepped outside the refinery. The cold wind bit at his face, but he didn’t mind it. He looked up at the star-filled sky, his breath misting in the frigid air, feeling a kind of accomplishment he knew was akin to a drug. This time, everything was deliberate. When it first happened, when he first became a scientist, it was just an accident... Now, he was part of a team, and they made something they aimed to create. This was no longer just a lucky hit; he really made it. He finally proved to himself that he wasn't just a fluke. He was an actual scientist by now.

"I wonder..." he chuckled, his heart filled with pride. "What will we invent next?"

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