Chapter 3: Up

  The West-Central Orlinth Cargo Dock Station came into view – a central clearing surrounded by large warehouses streaked with soot and grime, made of brass and iron, storing cargo crates.

  Three massive cargo airships stood docked at raised loading platforms. Their hulls were made of brass, patched with steel and iron, covered with canvas. Attached from beneath was the undercarriage, designed for cargo transport. The propellers behind rested idly, awaiting activation.

  Each vessel was being loaded by dock workers – men and women in dusty coats. Their COGs were glowing orange – as were their bodies – as they pushed the crates almost effortlessly with the power of the orange mana crystal – Kinetra – loading them aboard the ships.

  This specific station served a dual purpose: receiving shipments from the Foundry and sending shipments both skyward to Skyhaven and downward to the Foundry.

  The Foundry’s inbound freight was usually unrefined mana crystals, raw metals, and other forged materials. Orlinth’s contribution to Skyhaven would be the same materials – but refined, polished, customed, and repackaged – worked on by the many skilled artisans of our platform. The upper tier’s part in the process was to proudly display Orlinth’s creations from Foundry’s materials without getting their hands dirty.

  As for Orlinth’s own downward shipments to the Foundry, they were meager and transactional: food rations and broken tools for melting.

  Skyhaven’s version of the dock existed too, of course – but it only received.

  I joined the line as I arrived.

  Two citizens stood before me, gripping their COGs nervously, making sure their permits for Skyhaven were properly loaded and approved by the Ascension Board. They spoke between themselves, nothing interesting, but I listened long enough to gather that they were friends.

  Beside them was the actual line – nearly fifty cargo crates stacked and tagged for transport – still being worked on.

  This might actually take a while…damn it. Considering cargo took priority over people, I started calculating whether I should switch to the regular airships after all.

  Just then, an Ironwatch Enforcer wearing a Mark I Aetherguard Suit and an Immigration Inspection badge stepped forward. A folded sword and a handgun were strapped to his belt. He was tall, his hair short and black as coal. A small but deep scar on his right cheek told me he had likely got it from a stray bullet.

  He called out to us.

  “There’s room for one of you on ship number two – if you don’t mind squeezing between crates and getting covered in oil and grime.” He said. “It’ll be tight, but it’ll move now. Otherwise, it’s a thirty-minute wait. At least.”

  He paused, scanning the three of us.

  “Well? Any takers?”

  The men before me exchanged a quick glance before one of them spoke.

  “Is there any way we can both go?” He asked. “We’re traveling together.”

  The Enforcer didn’t even blink. “No.”

  “Come on, mate. Tyler here is pretty short, I’m sure we can fit him in if we try!” the other one called out.

  The first one punched his friend on the shoulder and they both laughed.

  Even the Enforcer chuckled. “Sadly, no. I don’t want to be responsible if anything happens.”

  “Too bad…” The second one muttered, then turned to me. “It’s yours if you want it, mate.”

  Despite the grime and oil, the decision wasn’t hard. I’d already missed the morning assembly. Trent was there on his own – who knows if he managed to set the invention up on his own? Time was something I didn’t have.

  “I’ll take the offer!” I called out quickly.

  The Enforcer gave a short nod, then signaled the depot workers to wait and then waved me forward.

  I stepped forward toward the man.

  “Extend your COG arm.” He said, not unkindly.

  I lifted my right arm toward him.

  He raised his own to meet it, then paused, blinking at the positioning.

  “Wait…what?” he muttered, then chuckled. “Oh, sorry, force of habit. Most folks wear it on the left.”

  He repositioned, awkwardly mirroring me. “You’re left-handed?”

  “Ambidextrous.”

  The Enforcer gave a small laugh as our COGs synced, and a soft chime sounded. “Do you know how few people are actually ambidextrous?”

  “About one percent of the population.” I replied, not sure where this small talk was coming from, or leading to.

  He looked up from the screen, nodding. “Correct. That’s what I heard too.”

  His eyes returned to his COG’s display. “Well, who do we have here…Name?”

  “Viktor Halegrim.”

  “Occupation?”

  I sighed, my voice turning quieter. “Low-tier inventor.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  The Enforcer nodded. “Purpose for Skyhaven ascension?”

  “The Grand Annual Exposition.” I said. “My invention is being presented.”

  He stopped scrolling. Just for a moment. Then took a sharp inhale through his nose, releasing it slowly.

  That was…an odd reaction.

  “Well, everything checks out.” He eventually said. “And I see your permit was verified. You’re cleared for vertical transit.”

  He gestured toward the loaded airship and a depot worker standing next to it. “You can head on. Don’t steal anything – you will be checked upon arrival. And good luck out there.”

  I blinked, surprised by the respectful tone and mannerism – not how Enforcers usually spoke with us citizens.

  “Thank you…” I glanced down at the brass badge pinned to his shirt, the name and rank etched cleanly on the metal. “…Captain Duran.”

  He gave me a brief smile, said nothing more, and quickly turned away.

  I made my way past him, reaching for my pocket, and handing two Steamcrowns – thin brass coins stamped with Solvane’s crest on the back: a tower surrounded by clouds – to the dock worker.

  “Just mind the crates.” He told me before moving to the side.

  I nodded, stepping onto the airship, the scent of oil and hot iron surrounding me. The doors clanked shut behind me while I found myself a comfortable enough spot between the crates.

  Then, with a hiss of pressure and the familiar hum of magitek, the airship began to move.

  It rose slowly, higher and higher, pushed upward by the churning heat of its magitek-steam engines – a creation inspired by mother’s work, but not as nearly as good. I glanced outside through a singular small circular window. With every passing second, Orlinth grew smaller beneath me – its buildings shrinking into the size of small boxes, the stone walkways practically melting away.

  The higher I rose, the colder the air became. The warmth of steam pipes faded fast, replaced by soft winds and the chill of altitude.

  Skyhaven was built at cloud level, and it sure felt that way.

  Above, the looming platform of Skyhaven grew closer, its underside coming to full view. Embedded inside it, in set distances from each other, were humming magitek-steam engines.

  This wasn’t my first time seeing the underside of Skyhaven so close. I’d passed next to it before – just two weeks ago – when the committee for the Expo summoned me for a personal interview before accepting my invention. A standard process from what I’ve heard.

  We rose higher. The clouds parted.

  And then, just like that – we rose above the platform’s edge.

  Skyhaven unfolded before me.

  The first thing that hit me wasn’t the grandeur – which I had experienced before. It was the light.

  Real sunlight bathed the streets.

  A true sky stretched above me – pale blue, streaked with fluffy clouds.

  Despite sitting high among the clouds, Skyhaven never saw snow. Some said it was the heat vents inside the platform. Others believed in pressure differences and the fact that clouds this high were thin and non-precipitating.

  There were even some that said that it was because the rest of the world around Solvane was a deserted wasteland. What the hell did that have to do with anything? Your guess is as good as mine.

  The temperature was cold, but the air was clean. Not the smoke-filled version we had in Orlinth.

  Before me, spires and buildings in warm pastel colors rose even higher into the sky, trimmed in gold and white marble. Bridges curved between them and gardens bloomed atop rooftops. Floating signs announced shops in colorful lettering. Even the streets were tiled in white stone, polished and gleaming under the sunlight.

  At the center of it all stood a tower – taller than anything I had ever seen. It stretched upward, its peak vanishing into the uppermost clouds. It was made of stone, reinforced with metal. It was called “The Divine”, and I had no idea what it was used for outside of the Expo today which was going to be held across the first three floors.

  The streets below were nearly empty – especially compared to the crowded chaos of Orlinth.

  The ship adjusted course, tilting gently as it veered toward one of the outer cargo docks – a long landing platform at the edge of Skyhaven’s ring. Gantries awaited us – cranes swiveling into place, guided by dock workers and their shimmering COGs.

  With a sharp hiss and a jolt through the floor, the airship docked.

  As I stepped off the ramp, I didn’t get far before a gloved hand slammed against my chest, halting me mid-step.

  “Hold it.” An Ironwatch Enforcer said, his tone cold and detached – complete opposite of his counterpart from below, Captain Duran.

  He scanned my COG with his, then proceeded with a quick bodycheck, making sure I didn’t steal anything.

  “Clean.” He grunted eventually, then stepped back. “Don’t linger on the dock.”

  I nodded, slipping past him and into Skyhaven’s streets.

  As I noticed before, there were few people on the streets. But those who did walk past moved quietly, gracefully, dressed in long, high-collared coats fastened with golden brooches, and expensive top hats. Their COGs practically shined – gold-coated, most likely. Or maybe they were just made of solid gold to begin with.

  Even the Ironwatch Enforcers stationed here were few. Their uniforms were brighter, cleaner, their COGs gleaming.

  I looked down at myself.

  No coat. No gloves. The same clothes I wore yesterday and slept in a cell with -wrinkled, dirty, sweat-stained.

  Thanks Devin…

  Because of him, I’d missed the morning preparation window. And now, on top of everything else, I couldn’t even dress properly for the occasion – a formal suit my dad prepared for me. And I was cold.

  Thankfully, I still had my jacket. It wasn’t much, but it was better than freezing completely.

  The residents didn’t say a word to me – but their glances did.

  They eyed me with visible contempt. Their gaze didn’t linger, but it burned. Judging my clothes. My posture. My scuffed boots. My not-as-fancy-as-theirs COG.

  I did my best to ignore them. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting.

  At each street corner, I spotted phonotubes.

  The same thick brass horns I was used to seeing in Orlinth, only here they were polished to perfection, mounted into the sides of buildings and carved marble pillars. A small black colored box – likely containing an Aetheris – was attached behind each horn.

  I found it…odd.

  The rich citizens of Skyhaven needed to be reminded of things as well…?

  I always thought those systems were meant to keep the Foundry and Orlinth’s masses in attention – daily updates, quotas, safety warnings, propaganda disguised as reassurance. But here they were, installed just as prominently in Skyhaven.

  Same horns. Seemingly the same network as well. And, likely, the same voice as well – Dalton Rose, the Head of Solvane. The oligarch elected to rule over the city for the next ten years.

  There were eleven oligarchic families in Solvane, each responsible for a different aspect of our daily lives. Dalton Rose belonged to House Agriculture – the family controlling all crop production in the city. Conveniently for him, all of that agriculture was based in Skyhaven. It made sense considering it was the only platform receiving plenty of sunlight.

  It was Dalton Rose’s second consecutive term in office – a testament to the strength and influence of his house.

  Eventually, after a not-so-short walk, I reached the Divine.

  Security was heavy – the tower surrounded by dozens of machine units: the 7 feet Guardians, and the Steam Hounds – all high leveled enough for anyone to even consider causing trouble. Well, unless you were Libra.

  I glanced at the time on my COG.

  [13:08]

  An Enforcer stood at the entrance, arms folded. His eyes scanned me, not with suspicion – but with the same disapproving stare I’d seen a dozen times already.

  “Lost?” He asked me, rolling his eyes and pointing downward. “Orlinth is down there.”

  I met his gaze, sighing deeply. “I’m presenting my invention at the Expo today.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “For real?”

  I nodded, extending my COG. “See for yourself.”

  Skeptically, he extended his own.

  A quiet scan. A beep.

  He muttered under his breath, something that sounded awfully like. “They let anyone come up these days…”

  Then he stepped aside, allowing me to go through the arched brass doorway and into the Annual Grand Exposition.

  “Break a leg.” The Enforcer’s tone was biting – like he meant it in the literal sense of the phrase.

  I ignored the comment, focusing on what’s ahead.

  My chance.