Archmage Telamon tapped his clean-shaven chin, gaze steady. "How confident are you in these plans?"
"In addition to studying them aboard the Defiant, I felt every weld, seam, alloy, edge, and dimension with my own hands," Cane replied. "I'm not a shipwright... but I'd say I'm spot on. And not just that—ours will be better than the original."
Telamon let a hint of amusement play at the corners of his mouth. "Well. It seems Advanced Metallurgy and Advanced Water Element are embarking on something bold."
He paused, then nodded.
"You have my leave to take over the Academy's private harbor. I'll place privacy runes—no eyes or ears but yours. Build well."
Both professors were in good spirits as they accompanied Cane to the Magi Academy's private harbor. The structure sat low against the waterline, built into a sheltered cliffside. According to Neri, the Defiant had used it before—quick repairs, quiet resupplies.
Professor Brammel rubbed his thick hands together. "What sort of metal are you thinking?"
"Tungsten and titanium," Cane said.
The dwarf raised a bushy brow. "Heavy mix."
"Not once I purify and adjust the structure," Cane replied, studying the dry dock's layout. "With the right blend, we'll have a hull that shrugs off cannon fire—even without full defensive runes."
Brammel grunted approval, arms crossed. "Still need to worry about the sails and rigging."
"I'm working on that," Cane said. "Thinking of interwoven silk laced with a salt-based alloy—something fire-resistant, flexible, and durable. Might take some testing."
Selena nodded thoughtfully. "You'll need to balance weight and responsiveness. Wind magic can't fix everything."
Brammel gestured toward the dock outline. "Cannon deck. You going one row or two?"
Cane shook his head. "Ever been in a naval battle?"
The dwarf snorted. "Dwarves sink, Cane. Faster than some rocks."
Selena laughed. "Don't worry, Bram. If you fall in, I'll fetch you out myself."
Cane glanced between the two professors, noting with mild curiosity that both were blushing. He chose not to comment.
"My point is," Cane continued, "naval battles haven't changed in centuries. Cannons line the sides. You have to turn the ship just to fire."
Brammel nodded. "That much I know."
"It's inefficient. That's like turning your whole body just to glance left or right. There's got to be a smarter way."
He tapped the edge of the dock platform, gaze focused on the calm waters below.
"And I think we're about to find it."
Cane returned to Seven Tower with his mind already spinning. The tungsten and titanium he needed would have to be ordered from the capital—a few weeks, at least, before it arrived.
In the meantime, he shifted focus.
At his desk, surrounded by loose sketches and scattered notes, he tapped a charcoal pencil against his temple. "Turning an entire ship just to fire a cannon doesn't make sense… not if you could just turn the weapon."
He was still muttering when Pudding fluttered onto the window sill with a faint thwip of wings.
"Well, look who's back," Cane said with a grin. "Maybe I should design something for the Defiant. Let them field test it and report back."
He flipped to a blank page in his notebook.
Big Issues with Naval Weapons:
Lack of maneuverability
Poor range
Inaccuracy
Inherent danger
"Start with the first one—it's the most obvious fix."
He sketched a side profile of a cannon mounted to a low-slung pivot bracket.
"If cannons were mounted on locking swivels, you'd get horizontal mobility. But if you're going to do that, you need vertical range too." Cane frowned. "Which means lifting the cannon off the deck… but multiple cannons would take up too much room."
He scratched his jaw, then grinned. "Okay… one large cannon. Mounted on a rotating platform. Vertical and horizontal adjustments—no need to shift the ship's heading."
A few quick sketches followed, showing rotating bases, hand cranks, and elevation gears. He made a note beside one:
Trial and error expected. Prototype first, then refine.
"Next," he muttered, flipping to a clean section. "Range."
He stared at the crude sketch of a cannonball.
"Range is limited by powder charge. But what if… instead of a ball, it was more like an arrowhead?" He began sketching a narrow, aerodynamic casing. "Encased projectile. Built-in powder load. You wouldn't need to stuff loose powder down the barrel every time."
He sat back, chewing on the tip of his pencil.
"Cleaner. Safer. Might even increase firing rate."
He began a new diagram showing a cartridge-style round with an integrated charge.
Just as he leaned in to refine the shape, a soft pulse from his team's psi-rune tugged at his awareness.
Fergis:New Wood Element instructor just got hired. Also a beast expert. I thought we could train up our Shadow wolves.
Cane:Great idea. When and where?
Fergis:North Courtyard.
Cane set his pencil down and stood, sparing one last glance at the swirling ideas on the page.
"A big cannon," he mused. "That aims like a crossbow and fires like a thunderclap."
Pudding fluffed his feathers, unimpressed.
Cane smiled. "Alright, alright… we'll get there."
Cane made his way into town, the early morning sun warm on his back. His Shadow Wolf pup, Tazi, was being penned behind the Sweetwater Tailor shop.
He found Dagan seated on the back step, a towel gripped tightly in his hands. At the other end, Tazi growled and tugged with wild-eyed determination, tail wagging like a whip.
"Hey," Cane called out.
Tazi immediately dropped the towel and barreled toward him, paws thundering across the dirt. Cane sidestepped and scooped him up mid-charge, earning a startled yip and a face full of panting joy.
"Time to start training," he said, turning back toward Dagan.
Dagan nodded, still grinning from the match. "He's right in the middle of a growth spurt. Been eating like mad. I get scraps and entrails from the butcher—keeps him happy."
Cane tried not to wince, but the diet was exactly what he'd expect from a wild Shadow Wolf.
"We won't be gone long," he promised.
Fergis was already waiting in the North Courtyard with Moxie, who darted in circles with unleashed energy. As soon as Tazi spotted his sibling, he let out a sharp, offended howl and lunged against the leash.
"Way to make me look bad," Cane muttered, using his foot to keep Tazi from launching into a full-blown puppy brawl.
"Yeah," Fergis said, scratching the back of his neck. "She chewed through his leash. I didn't think he'd figure out knots yet."
Before Cane could reply, a tall, rail-thin man approached. He wore worn brown leathers, and his long arms swung low at his sides, almost reaching his knees. Light brown hair was pulled back into a loose tail, and sharp brown eyes studied Cane with quiet curiosity.
"You're Cane Ironheart?" the man asked. "Name's Breven Tor. Just call me Tor. It's what I'm used to."
Cane took the offered hand and nodded. "Good to meet you, Tor."
Without hesitation, Tor bent down and took Tazi gently by the scruff, lifting him slightly and staring into his eyes. The pup froze under the scrutiny, tail still, body alert. After a beat, Tor did the same with Moxie, studying the second pup just as closely.
"Not all Shadow Wolves can open rifts," Tor said. "Technically, they're small tears, not full rifts—but you get the idea. You can usually tell by the pupils."
He pointed a long finger toward Tazi's eyes. "See that dark purple center? That's what you're looking for."
"They can both open tears?" Cane asked, his tone caught between surprise and fascination.
"Eventually," Tor said, standing and brushing off his hands. "Working together, they'll figure it out faster. Clean lines, good coats, strong teeth and claws. No signs of weakness or inbreeding. These two come from healthy stock."
"They were both born from an Alpha female," Fergis added proudly.
Tor nodded, lips twitching in approval. "That'll do it."
Pudding swooped in quietly, landing on Cane's shoulder with barely a flutter. Below, Tor worked with the pups—his commands firm but calm. Within minutes, both Shadow Wolves were sitting, heeling, and responding to basic gestures with surprising obedience.
Tor glanced up mid-command… and froze.
His sharp eyes locked onto Pudding, the casual focus gone, replaced by sudden, stunned scrutiny.
Cane sighed inwardly. Here it comes.
"This is Pudding," he said, bracing for the usual comments.
But Tor didn't laugh. Didn't scoff. Instead, he stepped forward slowly, gaze still fixed on the falcon-owl hybrid.
"Amazing," he murmured. "It's a hybrid, right? Highland Falcon crossed with a Black-Beaked Gray Owl…"
"Paid ten platinum for him," Cane offered.
Tor blinked. "Then you should be arrested for robbery. These hybrids are nearly impossible to breed. Night vision like nothing else, unmatched dive speed, and the smartest temperaments I've ever worked with."
Fergis:Well… shit. Now I want him.
Cane chuckled as Pudding tilted his head, clearly basking in the sudden admiration.
"He'll complement the wolves perfectly," Tor continued, stepping back. "Especially once they're older and smarter. Shadow Wolves learn in packs—and that one?" He pointed to Pudding. "Imagine a shadow wolf pack with eyes in the sky."
He reached beneath his collar and produced a slim whistle looped around his neck. "I'll take them out west—open fields, light woods. I want to get a read on their personalities, see how they move, hunt, think."
With a sharp whistle and a wave, the pups trotted after him, tails wagging.
Pudding launched from Cane's shoulder with a soft thwip and rose into the air, circling lazily above them as they headed into the trees.
Cane watched them go, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
Fergis: You know… I never thought I'd be jealous of your bird.
Cane: Join the club.