I. Whispers on the Wind
Word of Thasselridge's bloodless fall spread like wildfire.
But it wasn't the conquest that captured the minds of scholars—it was the method. No armies, no swords. Just machines. Just mechanics.
In every academy, forge, and tavern, his name stirred awe and controversy alike.
"Did you hear?" whispered a drunken architect. "The boy from Emberhold built an automaton that sings like a bard."
"Aye," replied a one-eyed professor. "And another that can etch stone like rain on chalk."
But it wasn't just gossip.
It was a summons.
Magnus had put out a call: "To all minds unfettered by crowns or creeds—come build the future."
And they came.
II. The Arrival
They arrived in twos and threes—by cart, by steamboat, even by horseback.
Some were noble sons turned rogue tinkerers.
Others were scholars dismissed for "heretical experimentation."
And a few were outright criminals with brilliant minds and bloody hands.
Magnus welcomed them all.
He stood at the gates of Emberhold's old citadel—now retrofitted into a towering workshop—and shook their hands one by one.
"Here," he said, "you will not be silenced. You will be funded. And most importantly—you will be free."
A wiry woman with brass spectacles asked, "What's the price?"
Magnus smiled.
"Just your genius."
III. The Pact of Iron
They met in what had once been a chapel—its stained glass now replaced with reinforced glass panes etched with schematics.
The first council of the Silver Engineers began.
There were twenty-seven of them.
From different corners of the kingdom. Different beliefs. Different languages.
But united in one purpose: creation.
Magnus laid out his vision on a ten-foot scroll: a city run by steam, defended by metal giants, powered by inexhaustible furnaces.
"A city where no peasant goes hungry. No child fears a knight's sword. Where the only law is logic."
The council voted unanimously.
They would build it.
And in doing so—change the world.
IV. The Bloodless Blade
Of course, not everyone was thrilled.
The Guilds of Silvershade—an influential faction of master craftsmen and noble-funded engineers—declared Magnus a heretic.
They accused him of stealing designs. Of breaking laws that preserved "artisan dignity."
In truth, they feared his machines.
They feared replacement.
So they sent assassins.
Three, in the dead of night.
But they underestimated Emberhold's new defenses.
The gate sealed with gears, not wood.
The halls filled with smoke vents and trip-spring darts.
Two assassins died before reaching Magnus's door.
The third? Captured.
Magnus personally dismantled the man's crossbow and handed the pieces to a nearby apprentice.
"Reverse engineer it," he said. "Make it better."
Then, turning to the assassin, he added, "And send his hands to the Silvershade Guild. A message: We no longer craft with flesh."
V. The Architects of Tomorrow
Within weeks, the Engineers unveiled their first three projects:
The Ashlung Kiln – A smogless furnace that burned hot enough to melt mythril alloys.
The Mind Loom – A code-based automaton that could replicate symbols and runes onto banners and spell-scrolls.
The Sound Lance – A sonic weapon designed to disable cavalry charges by rupturing eardrums.
All were terrifying.
All were beautiful.
And all were now patented with the sigil of a fist gripping a gear—Magnus's mark.
The Kingdom's nobility began to tremble.
For Magnus was no longer just a blacksmith, no longer just a warlord.
He was an idea.
And ideas could not be killed.
VI. A Whisper from the Crown
Tobias entered Magnus's forge late one night, a letter in hand.
"The king grows impatient," he said. "You've claimed too many patents. Too many minds. They're calling you a rebel."
Magnus, soaked in oil and light, didn't look up from his newest design: a quadrupedal siege engine the size of a tavern.
"They called Daedalus mad too," he said.
"This isn't myth," Tobias warned. "They'll send the army next."
"Then let them come."
He turned the blueprint to reveal its name:
Cerberus.