"I feel like he's watching me," Sophie whispered.
Sometime in the night—after pushing the food cart into the hall—she'd curled up beside Cane, wrapping herself in his warmth.
Her voice tugged him from light sleep. He stirred as she peered over his shoulder toward the windowsill, where Pudding sat perched.
Cane rolled over slightly. Two large golden-brown eyes stared back at them, unblinking, the bird's head tilted at unsettling angles.
"That's because he is," Cane muttered. "He's decided you're a snack."
Sophie giggled, pressing her cheek lightly against his back. "What are your plans today?"
"Metallurgy and smithing," Cane replied. "Class with Brammel, then I'll work with Professor Morva's class."
Between his advanced coursework and assistant role in Water Elementals, his schedule had become strangely flexible—except for the never-skippable History of Magic.
"Close your eyes," Sophie said softly. "I'm only in undergarments, and I want to get dressed."
Cane obeyed, shutting his eyes.
A few moments passed.
"Cane?"
"Yeah?"
"What are you doing?"
"Scratching my hand."
"Oh really?" Her voice grew amused. "You just happen to be scratching the hand with the falconer's rune—right while I'm changing?"
HOOACH.
Pudding let out a sharp cry and puffed up his feathers, glaring.
"Yes, it itches," Cane said, deadpan. "And now you've offended Pudding."
Sophie raised an eyebrow, watching the bird huff indignantly and flap out the open window.
She bent down, kissed Cane's forehead gently, and smiled. "I'm done."
Sophie walked arm-in-arm with Cane toward Sun Tower, enjoying the early morning sounds—birds calling in the treetops, leaves rustling on the breeze, and the steady thock of someone chopping wood in the distance.
"When do you usually get the reports for morning announcements?" Cane asked.
"Seven sharp," Sophie replied. "Then I compile, balance, and edit until the first announcement goes out at eight." She gave his hand a squeeze. "I know a lot more than I did a few weeks ago."
"I can imagine," Cane said, smiling. "There must be more reports in the afternoon?"
"Usually one or two. Some of the things in the later announcements are just things I couldn't fit in the morning."
"Thanks for taking care of me yesterday," Cane said softly.
"Well… I like you," Sophie replied, then peeked up at him with a mischievous grin. "A lot, lot."
Cane raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot of lots."
"Oh? Is there a limit?"
"Not sure," Cane said, pausing at the entrance to Sun Tower. Without another word, he swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly. "And it's mutual. However many lots you want to add."
Down at the harbor, the collaboration zone between the Advanced Metallurgy and Advanced Water Elementals classes was quiet. The lower hull of the ship floated peacefully, glinting in the morning sun.
Cane pulled a sheet of titanium onto the dock and placed a sheet of tungsten on top.
"Might as well get started on the tungtanium sheets," he murmured.
He submerged into the metal—by now a familiar, welcoming world. The fusion was smooth, instinctive. The duality of the metals became harmony beneath his will, and soon the structure rose—broad, flat, and seamless.
When Brammel arrived nearly an hour later, he found Cane finishing the last meld, standing on a gleaming stage of newly-forged tungtanium.
"How long you been at it?" Brammel asked, eyeing the flawless surface.
"About an hour," Cane guessed. "How'd the aiming reticle turn out for the main gun?"
"Finished it last night," Brammel grinned. "One wagon's already headed to the range."
"And the second?" Cane asked.
"We're driving it," Brammel said, eyes shining. "A few quick adjustments, and we'll be in business."
**
"You've got a wide array of skills," Brammel complimented, happy to be a passenger on the wagon instead of driving.
"When I was a kid, caravans would stop by the village for the night and would trade a few items. Afterward, they'd sit around the campfire and tell stories. I remember thinking, that would be a good life."
Brammel nodded in agreement. "I saw quite a bit of the world when I was younger. It's appealing when you're a lad, but later you begin enjoying roofs and softer beds."
"We need to build a second main gun," Cane said, eyes on the road.
Brammel raised a bushy brow. "And what for?"
"Captain Rhiati's arriving tomorrow. I want to mount one on the Defiant—run field tests under actual conditions."
"That's a fine idea. You planning to train them?"
"That's the plan."
A short while later, they reached the range. A large X marked the mounting area, and wagon-sized targets had been set at intervals every two hundred meters, starting at four hundred.
The rotating platform was already installed. Brammel's students began offloading the two-piece telescopic barrel and the breech assembly while Cane inspected the reinforced support tubes from the night before.
The previous design's shock absorbers had cracked after only a few shots. This time, they had increased the tube diameter and doubled the number of supports. Cane submerged into the metal, seeking out cracks and imperfections—cleansing impurities and shoring up weak points.
"Let me see the barrel and breech before we assemble it," he said.
Brammel nodded. "You heard him."
The students stepped aside while Cane gave the barrel a careful inspection.
"Oh, this one's solid," Cane said, giving a thumbs-up. "Let's see what it can do."
Brammel retrieved a spyglass and trained it on the first target downrange. "Listen to Cane's directives," he called.
Cane adjusted the gunner's seat and locked in the platform. "Load it up."
The loader slid the first round into the chamber and stepped back.
Cane lined up the reticle on the target at 400 meters. "Stand clear and cover your ears."
BOOM.
"Short twenty meters, left five," Brammel called, still peering through the scope.
"Reload," Cane ordered, adjusting both the horizontal and vertical dials.
The scent of powder hung thick in the air.
BOOM.
"Short five. Dead center on the line," Brammel said, clapping.
"Reload." Cane made one final tweak. "Cover your ears."
BOOM.
The target at 400 meters rocked backward and collapsed.
"Bullseye!" Brammel whooped. "Let me check the shocks."
Cane nodded, pulling out a scribe to mark the horizontal and vertical adjustments. "Next up, six hundred."
"Shocks look good. No leaks or cracks," Brammel confirmed. "After the next one, I want you to check for subsurface stress."
"Load it up," Cane called. Once the loader cleared, he made the necessary adjustment for the increased distance.
The testing continued. Cane tracked distances and fired in steady rhythm, checking the system every five shots. They achieved consistent accuracy up to 800 meters—but at 1000, only hit the mark half the time.
After a final round of diagnostics and minor repairs, Cane gave both the barrel and gunner platform a clean bill of health.
"Twenty rounds total. Not bad," Cane said, climbing back onto the wagon's bench for the return trip. Brammel rode shotgun again.
"Still a couple days before your adamantium shipment gets in," Brammel noted. "But use the shop's stock until then. I'll reorder more for our class."
"That's perfect," Cane grinned. "I'll be able to finish the HAVs for the Defiant's crew."