Chapter 77 — Edwin Harland

Chapter 77: Chapter 77 — Edwin Harland

Chapter 77 — Edwin Harland

Edwin spent the morning teaching three apprentices how not to burn paper.

The exercise called for a thread of Mana, a copper plate, and just enough control to warm the plate without scorching the sheet laid across it. One student raised no heat at all. Another blackened one corner. The third set the paper smoking and beat it out with both hands.

Edwin replaced the sheet.

"Use less Mana," Edwin said.

"I barely used any."

"Then use less than barely. Control matters more than making the plate hot."

The supervising instructor hid a smile behind her notes.

Edwin showed them once more. Warmth spread evenly through the copper, and the paper curled faintly at the edge but stayed white.

The apprentices tried again.

His faculty work ended before midday. He returned the practice plates, signed the room ledger, and collected two days of copied reports from the lower archive. The afternoon, as usual, belonged to him.

Magister Vey stopped him before he reached the stair and handed him a thin book on basic formation maintenance.

"You will assist in the eastern practice rooms next week."

"This is caretaker work."

"It teaches why formations fail."

The assignment would have annoyed him once. Now he saw how the lesson fit the formations he had been repairing. Ancient structures and academy practice shared the same weak points: connections, anchors and damaged material.

He placed the book inside his secondhand storage pouch, beside notebooks, chalk, two crystals and more copied pages than clothing.

Taron waited beyond the western gate with two packhorses.

"You smell burned," the mercenary said.

"One of the students learned why control matters."

Taron eyed the dark mark on Edwin’s sleeve. "Dangerous work, education."

They followed the maintained road until the traffic thinned, then turned toward the old provincial station, where Edwin’s registered field project occupied two repaired rooms. Survey poles leaned against one wall, and broken foundation stones and copied measurements provided a dull explanation for his visits.

He checked the road before entering the rear cellar.

The hidden passage answered only after his Mana touched three marks in order, and the stone swung inward without a sound. Taron led the horses into the dark.

Beyond the passage, the air changed — wet earth and mineral dust, a narrow road running off across low hills toward the distant tower. The tower no longer looked entirely dead. Light showed through three upper windows, and two iron golems worked at the damaged eastern wall: one hauling stone blocks clear of a collapsed building, the other knocking old mortar off them in careful, even strikes.

Nessa appeared above the gate as a palm-sized figure made of pale blue light.

"Master Edwin. Extraction increased by four percent."

"Good afternoon to you too."

"Good afternoon. Extraction increased by four percent."

Taron took the horses toward the stable shelter. "She missed you."

The tower spirit ignored him.

Inside, maintenance golems had cleared the entrance hall. Dust no longer covered the central floor, though dark stains remained beneath the cracked wall panels, and one ceiling section was held by temporary iron braces.

Edwin removed his academy coat and stored it in a sealed cabinet. Here, he wore plain work clothes and carried his staff openly.

Nessa followed him toward the control chamber.

"Current crystal reserve?"

Numbers appeared above the nearest table. Continuous mining now produced a stable surplus, enough that the tower could maintain its living floors, library, concealment, mine route, and repair golems without draining the reserve.

"Keep the damaged weapon systems isolated while the golems repair them," Edwin said.

"Confirmed. Living floors, library, concealment, mine route and maintenance systems remain fully supplied."

The outer detection formation now covered the secret realm entrance and the road to the mine.

"Flight?" Nessa asked.

"No."

"Primary movement array remains unavailable."

"Then why ask?"

"To determine whether your priority changed."

"My priority remains the same."

Even if the tower could rise, Edwin had nowhere safe to take it: a flying war tower appearing beside Alvion would bring imperial mages before it crossed the first hill.

The library door opened when he approached. Repairs had restored one more reading chamber, shelves curving around a sunken table. Most held sealed cases rather than books; three had failed and contained gray powder, but twelve remained intact.

Edwin stopped at the threshold.

Each newly opened room held records the academy had lost.

That made it dangerous.

He selected the first intact case and allowed Nessa to check its seal before opening it. Inside lay survey records from minor realms once connected to the tower’s route network. Several passages had collapsed before the ancient departure; others had been closed deliberately.

He began reading.

The records described soil, Mana density, water, hostile creatures and material deposits. One realm had grown red moss useful in healing mixtures; another held veins of stone that dulled fire formations on contact. A third had supported grain fields around an outpost before its passage failed.

Edwin copied only the portions he understood.

One survey described a small agricultural station that had supplied a larger outpost, with ordinary fields, fruit trees, goats and a warm spring. Its final entry recorded evacuation after the connecting passage became unstable.

"Can this route be restored?" Edwin asked.

"Terminus unavailable," Nessa said. "Restoration probability cannot be calculated."

Edwin copied the lost station’s field arrangement and water channels, then stopped at plants he did not recognize.

After an hour, Taron entered with bread, cheese and a strip of dried meat.

"Did you find anything useful?" Taron asked.

"Old farming plans and several records I need more time to understand."

Taron placed the food on an empty shelf. "Then the cold meal was worth bringing."

"It was," Edwin said.

"The miners found another branch," Taron added.

Edwin closed the record.

The Mana-crystal mine ran beneath the hill east of the tower, mining golems working three supported passages. The adamantite combat golem had killed the creature that used to nest in the lower tunnel, and the work went on now without losing miners to it.

At the new branch, crystal light showed between layers of dark rock. The deposit was narrow but clean, and a mining golem waited beside it with its tool lowered.

Edwin examined the surrounding stone and checked the golem’s stability marks.

"Keep the current pace," he told Nessa. "Extend the supports before digging deeper."

Taron looked into the lower tunnel, where deep marks from the fight remained across the stone.

"I prefer the mine now that nothing down there wants to eat us," he said.

"That makes two of us," Edwin replied.

Edwin spent the afternoon inspecting rooms the maintenance golems had made habitable. Six sleeping chambers now had sound floors and doors, the old kitchen had running water after a golem cleared mineral buildup from the pipes, and a bathing room remained cold but usable.

The tower could house his mother and sister.

He stood at the window of the highest repaired room. The realm stretched toward wooded hills, broken roads and the mine, with no city noise reaching it.

One room still had a bed frame and a window facing the hills. Another held a narrow desk. Edwin marked both rooms habitable and left them empty.

"You intend occupants," Nessa said.

"Later."

"Living quarters can support twenty-three humans at current water output."

"Later."

He returned to the control chamber and opened a projection of the tower’s exterior. Broken spires and armored platforms made it unmistakably military. Several sections could be enclosed behind ordinary stone facing, and weapon apertures could be covered, though the upper crown would remain difficult to disguise.

"Can the outer shape be changed?" Edwin asked.

"Cosmetic alteration is possible. Structural alteration requires additional material, power and an authorized design."

"Make it look like a modern mage tower."

Nessa displayed four ancient tower profiles, all of them threatening.

"Modern," Edwin repeated.

"Insufficient reference."

Edwin took paper from his case and began drawing the plainest academy tower he remembered: square lower floors, narrow windows, a sloped roof over the entrance, no exposed weapon rings.

Taron watched from the doorway.

"That looks ugly."

"It looks ordinary."

"Ordinary towers do not fly."

"This one is not flying."

"Fair."

Edwin left the drawing with Nessa. Moving the tower near Alvion would wait until its power and concealment were steadier, and the damaged exterior would still need to pass for the private tower of some wealthy mage besides. Until then, the provincial station stayed his public field site.

Near dusk, he reviewed messages brought from the academy: one concerned next week’s apprentice schedule, another requested copied measurements from the western station, and a third came from his mother, reminding him that his sister needed new shoes.

There was no letter from Christopher.

Edwin had sent his first letter months ago through an Alvion merchant post. It might still be crossing Varenne, or waiting in Griffin City for a courier travelling beyond Northgate.

He knew the thought was unfair. Christopher had given his family enough money to reach Alvion, and Edwin had answered with a letter full of jokes about towers and book prices. Since then he had become a First Circle mage, joined the faculty, and found a war tower buried under a forgotten road — and somehow none of that had made him write back any sooner.

He took out a clean sheet anyway.

Christopher,

The academy has decided I am responsible enough to teach people who set paper on fire.

Edwin stopped there.

He wrote about his mother, his sister, his work and the weather, and asked whether Dragonwatch still stood. Then he folded the unfinished page into his notebook.

Before closing the desk, he opened the account book from his academy wages. Rent no longer consumed most of the page, since the faculty apartment came with his post, but food, clothing and his sister’s lessons still did. He set aside money for her shoes and another small amount for his mother’s winter coat.

He kept enough of his academy wages aside for his sister’s shoes and his mother’s winter coat.

"Leaving?" Taron asked.

"Before the gate closes."

"You control the gate."

"Before my mother decides I am dead."

That was a firmer deadline.

They rode back through the passage after dark. Edwin sealed it and checked the cellar twice, and at the maintained road they separated, Taron taking the packhorses toward the mercenary quarter while Edwin walked beneath Alvion’s lit towers.

Students crossed bridges overhead. Mage lamps colored the canal blue. Somewhere beyond the city, the hidden tower continued mining crystals and repairing itself.

Edwin returned to the academy apartment carrying bread and copied reports.

His sister opened the door.

"You missed supper."

"I brought bread."

"That is not supper."

Their mother called from the next room. "It is if he heats the stew."

Edwin put the bread down and lit the stove with a controlled thread of fire. The flame caught without burning anything else.

His sister placed bowls on the table. "Did you find anything interesting?"

"Broken foundations."

"You always find broken foundations."

"That is why the academy sends me."

She accepted the boring answer, though their mother watched him longer.

"You have been gone more often."

"The field project needs measurements."

"Are your academy duties suffering?" his mother asked.

"No. Magister Vey still assigns me classes and archive work."

Edwin lowered the spoon. "My academy work is safe. Magister Vey knows about the station."

"If it stops being safe," his mother said, "you tell me before your sister hears it from strangers."

"I will."

His sister tasted the stew. "It needs salt."

"It always needs salt."

"Because you forget it."

Edwin reached for the jar. The conversation moved to shoes, lessons and the neighbor upstairs, ordinary complaints filling the room until the tower felt far away.

For tonight, that was enough progress.