Interlude
Guillem
“You see? That is why the flywheel is important. It stores energy for use between the piston pumping. If the vehicle only moved when the piston moved, it would be the jerkiest ride ever. The flywheel smooths things out. And it lets us shift the belt off the drive shaft in case we want to stop completely without shutting down the engine.”
Guillem nodded slowly, looking over the small model they had whipped up over the past few days. Well, the model she had whipped up. Jason hadn’t helped much at all. She got the feeling that he really didn’t have much going for him aside from whatever insight gave him the inspiration for a cart pulled by the expansion of water instead of by animal or person.
A flick of her finger spun the so-called flywheel on their model. The name was odd. It was a wheel, but it wasn’t flying anywhere. Since its purpose was to store rotary energy, she would have called it a rotary wheel. Maybe a storage wheel. But Jason was quite insistent on terminology. It was something she could understand as an inventor. She liked all her beauties to be called by the names she wanted as well.
So she didn’t push too hard. Perhaps, when she sent the design back home, she would even leave his name intact. Just as a small nod to the one intelligent human among the lot.
“Its purpose does not elude me,” Guillem said, pouring some water into the tank. The heat potion was already inside, so the liquid sizzled as it made contact with the hot interior. In a few moments, the flywheel started spinning on its own as little clouds of steam puffed out from an exhaust port. “We’re just losing a decent amount of the energy from the steam by diverting it to the flywheel before putting it back into the vehicle. There has to be a better way to do it.”
It was an interesting concept. When she had first heard what the funny wheel was supposed to accomplish, she had ideas to use a variation of it in her workshop. Sometimes, some years, the river level dipped low. Or perhaps the water simply slowed for whatever reason. Both made it harder to work her machines. But if she could store the energy during times of surplus for later use, it would reduce any and all downtime. She could work at all times of the year without fear that a slow river would slow her machines.
But the flywheel was clearly not designed for longterm storage. There was too much friction. The small model would keep spinning for only a few moments after the energy input was removed. A larger, more massive wheel would spin for longer, but not for the days or weeks that she wanted in her workshop. It might still have use. The waterwheel wasn’t perfectly steady, which had ruined or delayed a project or two in the past. As Jason had said, a flywheel could act as a buffer between an inconsistent energy source and the machines.
She had called him to her workshop today to learn if he had any ideas for a better version, but he wasn’t saying anything.
The flywheel wasn’t the only thing bothering her about the device he had envisioned. “This,” she said, pointing to the puffs of steam, “is all waste. Waste! I did experiments. The steam can be turned back into water.”
“Ah,” he said before she could continue. “That. I do have plans for a condenser, which can probably be made more efficient with magic, but I figured this project was complex enough as it was. A version two could incorporate it, along with some other improvements.”
Guillem raised an eyebrow, feeling her respect for the human dropping. “You don’t want the first version to be the best it can be?”
“It’s not that.” He held up his hands, waving them back and forth like he could fend off her words. “Every addition we make will increase the cost, material usage, and time spent manufacturing. So we sell a basic version one, get lots of money, and use that money to fund version two design and development.”
Falling silent for a moment, Guillem slowly nodded as she stared down at the little machine. It made sense. It irked her to create something that wasn’t the best it could be, but that made sense. This wasn’t a sword. She had made hundreds of swords. The methods and routine were well known to her. She knew exactly how much material she needed, how much time, and how much to charge. It was boring, but at least swords and armor had function and elegance to them in comparison to something droll like a brooch. Even a brooch could be used to hold a cloak together. But a brooch, pin, or other status symbol was more suited to the work of a goldsmith or a silversmith. Guillem was a blacksmith. The only reason a human would come to her for such filigree was because she was an elf. They wanted to parade her work around for its exotic origin, even if she was mostly using human techniques, equipment, and material.
Jason had come to her because she was an elf as well. However, in his case, he hadn’t come to her because he wanted something to show off. He came to her because he thought that she was the only one who could make something like what he had in mind.
He was right about that, at least so long as he was limiting his search locations to Lyria.
Though… that might not have been the only reason he had come to her. Turning away from their little beauty, she found him staring at her. Again. A full two heartbeats passed before he realized that she was facing him. He promptly jumped back, sputtering out something that resembled an apology.
Guillem thought to tease him some. Even in the middle of a discussion, he would often trail off, staring at her face or other assets, which would prompt a quick apology before he continued on with whatever they had been doing, pretending nothing had happened. It was, without a doubt, the best human courtship ritual she had ever taken part in. But she was an elf. If she were human, it would probably be among the worst. Being an elvish slave, however, typically ended up with those interested making outright demands. If she thought she could get away with it, she would smack them upside the head with a hammer. Otherwise, she had to refer them to her master.
Luckily, he was mostly under her thumb. As long as she kept the money and ale flowing, he gave her free leeway to do whatever she wished. Guillem did not want to be a slave. Since she had been captured and sold, she didn’t have much choice. And she well knew that there were far worse masters out there than Rezheim. Rezheim was getting old and wouldn’t be around forever. If she wanted to stay in human territory, she would have to find someone new.
She had been keeping her eye on Oz. The most important quality in an owner was that her master had to allow her to continue as she was. Oz would definitely ignore her for most of the time. Unfortunately, he clearly didn’t like her. Getting him to purchase her would be a trial. Jason clearly did like her, or liked her body, and would probably allow her to do as she wished—she didn’t quite know him well enough just yet—but he had no money. There were a few others that Guillem had in mind, but right now, Oz was her number one preference with Jason having quickly risen to the number five slot.
Having someone around that she could talk shop with wouldn’t be a terrible thing. If their plan for these steam engines worked, she could probably make him quite wealthy as well, removing that problem. As long as his personality didn’t have a disgusting turn underneath his innocent sputtering, he could easily jump up a notch or two on her hierarchy of potential owners.
Teasing would have to wait, however.
The door to the workshop opened wide. Guillem didn’t recognize the first person to walk in, but he definitely looked like the kind of idiot who would come to a blacksmith for a brooch to fit his ruby red suit. Not all hope was lost. The two people who entered with him were clearly members of the city guard. They weren’t wearing heavy armor, but their beige uniform and standardized swords were obvious enough.
Guillem dismissed the two guards almost instantly. They were clearly unimportant, just here as bodyguards for the center human. Or perhaps as enforcers?
They could be here for something worse. The city guard didn’t use her as their primary weapons and armor supplier. Most of her work went toward the guild and other independent entities. Every now and then, some guard captain wanted a fancy sword made by elven hands. If it wasn’t that… The lack of armor indicated a disinterest in combat, but maybe they thought that she would go wherever they wanted without a fight.
So those were the options for them being here. A broach. A fancy sword. A larger order for the city guard. A chance to show off her workshop’s defensive capabilities.
The center human opened his mouth, about to answer the question of why they had come. But, before he could, he glanced down at the little iron contraption. For a moment, he just watched the sputtering steam and spinning wheel. “What is that?” he said, pointing a narrow finger as if someone could possibly wind up confused as to what he meant.
“A child’s toy,” Guillem said before Jason could say anything foolish. “Does it interest you? Does it?”
“Of course not.” He spoke with vehemence, but it still took some obvious effort to bring his eyes back up to her face. “I have no children.”
“I see. To what do I owe the honor of your presence,” Guillem said, changing topics away from her current project. She would prefer that it stay quiet for now. The project was far too fascinating to lose to some human because they thought they could work a bit of metal better than she could. “It isn’t often we get esteemed members of the city guard in my master’s humble workshop.”
The center human scoffed, shaking his head. “And where is your master at the moment?”
Guillem felt a chill go down her spine. They couldn’t be after him, could they? Rezheim was a drunkard, but he wasn’t a troublemaker. Normally. But… If something happened to him… She wasn’t ready to have to replace her master. Forcing a smile, she shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “Resting.” Completely drunk. “Resting this fine morning. I could fetch him if you wish, but I think he would prefer to not be disturbed. He had a late night working hard.”
“I’m sure.” Clasping his hands behind his back, the center human walked further into the room. His two guards stayed at the door while he approached the metal press. It wasn’t hooked into the water wheel at the moment, so the danger was fairly low, but Guillem walked closer anyway, ready to jump in if he did something foolish. An injury here, even if it was entirely on the part of a foolish human, would wind up with her taking all the blame.
“Jason,” she said, not taking her eyes off the guardsman. “Would you mind taking the toy into the back room?”
“Ordering around a human?” the guardsman snapped before Jason could move, turning away from the press.
“I-It’s really no proble—”
“He is, at the discretion of my master, assisting me, hoping to learn some elvish techniques. As I represent and act for my master in all matters pertaining to the workshop, he is to follow my directions or risk being sent away by my master. Besides that, it is a tripping hazard with this many people in the shop. Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.”
The guardsman made some noise in the back of his throat. Nothing too distinct, just an acknowledgment without being a true verbal agreement.
Jason, taking caution to not be burned on the hot parts or have his fingers mulched on the moving parts, picked up the little steam engine.
“It has come to my attention,” the guardsman said, eying Jason as he made his way to the back room, “that you have been visited by a person of interest to the city guard.”
“You’re going to have to be specific. This workshop is visited by a number of people.”
“This one goes by the name ‘Alyssa’ though she—”
Metal crashed against the ground. Jason jumped back from a plume of steam and a slowly growing pool of boiling water. “Oh… fie!”
“You alright?” Guillem called across the room.
“It just slipped. I’m really sorry—”
“Fine, fine. It was a flawed beauty anyway. Defective. I have improvements in mind for a better version.” Yes. Vast improvements. Now that she had seen it in motion, she could imagine improvements far better. Jason’s concern about cost was, indeed, a concern, but she should be able to reduce the material cost with at least one of her prospective changes. “Toss it in the scrap heap. I’ll melt it down later.” She had to deal with this distraction first.
Turning back to the guardsman, she shrugged. “Sorry. Sorry. Anyway, what were you saying? Alizha? Never heard of such a person.”
“Alyssa,” Jason said, making Guillem raise an eyebrow. “She came with me the day I first met you.”
“Someone else was with you?”
“Yeah… a few people.”
“I remember Oz. Don’t remember anyone else.”
“Well, that’s probably not all that surprising, probably. I don’t think she said much of anything.”
The guardsman walked away from the metal press, approaching Jason, but not closing the distance so much that his shoes got wet. “And you are?”
“Oh. Jason, sir,” he said, snapping his arms to his sides. “I am a scrivener at the guild.”
“And you know Alyssa? What is your relation?”
He smiled slightly. “She…” His smile slipped as he glanced over the guardsman’s shoulder, looking for help from Guillem.
She just shrugged.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Interested parties like to keep tabs on people who put scars on the moon.”
“That was her!” Guillem blurted out. She couldn’t help it. That little incident had been the talk of the town for weeks. Even now, even though she rarely actually visited the city itself, she heard people mentioning and talking about it.
“She delivers potions,” he said in a less-than-natural tone, though Guillem could only think that because she had heard him talk a significant amount. The guardsman likely wouldn’t notice a thing. It was a surprisingly flat tone for someone who carved a dark mark onto the otherwise spotless moon. “Sometimes I accept those potions on behalf of the guild.”
“I see. And what exactly was she doing here?” He glanced back to Guillem. “Delivering potions?”
Guillem shook her head slowly. She knew her usual potion supplier. That supplier was not named Alyssa. At least, she didn’t think his name was Alyssa. She could be wrong. Human names all sounded the same. Humans all looked the same too. With none of the subtle differences in ear shape and size or eyebrow length to tell them apart, Guillem was having a hard time imagining the face of this Alyssa person who had apparently visited only a few days ago.
“Then what was it?” the guardsman said, moving closer to her, getting right up in her face.
“Don’t know.” Her irritation at all this was slowly growing. It was quickly becoming clear that he wasn’t going to get whatever he wanted and, because of that, he was probably going to be even more annoying as a way to take his impotent anger out on others. “I don’t pay much attention to unimportant people. I don’t even think this person you want to know about spoke once.”
“She did, now that I think about it,” Jason said, nodding his head. “Alyssa told me to stop—” He cut himself off with a noise resembling a hiccup. Eyes drifting to Guillem, his tiny little ears burned a bright red. A strange color for skin to turn, but humans were strange creatures. “To stop getting distracted!” he squeaked out.
Such strange little creatures, Guillem thought with a shake of her head.
“She wanted to come and I wanted her to come,” Jason stuttered out. “I knew she had a lot of experience dealing with monsters. I had never met one before, so I thought she would be good to have around.”
“Dealing with monsters?” Guillem said, quirking an eyebrow. Their lack of fear or concern was a testament to how little these humans knew about elven mannerisms. She might not be permitted to carry a sword or other weapons, but this was her workshop. Within, she felt as if she could decimate armies.
“I didn’t mean like that,” Jason said as fast as he possibly could. Maybe he did understand something about elven body language because there was a definite note of worry in his voice. “Alyssa is just really friendly with lots of monsters, so I thought she might help me befriend you. But she didn’t actually need to say all that much, I guess.”
“Friendly with monsters?” Guillem slowly lowered her eyebrow. That wasn’t something she had expected to hear. She had spent a good amount of effort building up a friendly and approachable persona for these humans. Those she knew well, she knew just how far she could push before landing in trouble. But even those who were friendly enough to joke back… tolerated her. Nothing more.
Her eyes roamed up and down Jason, wondering just what he meant by befriend. She had only known him a few days. That wasn’t time enough to truly get to know him. What was in it for him? What benefits did he reap from befriending a monster? From his business plan regarding the farming equipment, he was looking for a longer working arrangement, but it was possible to have a peaceful association without the concept of friends entering into the equation.
And just what did friendly with monsters mean? Having heard the word from a human, Guillem suspected that it was hyperbole. Friendly could simply mean tolerating, just like all the other humans that Guillem interacted with. But with this guardsman coming around to ask about this person, it probably meant something more. A sympathizer, perhaps?
Now Guillem was kicking herself for not having paid attention to the seemingly unimportant human. Perhaps she could arrange some other meeting through Jason, something quieter without people like Oz around.
Did his relation with this human mean that Jason was a sympathizer as well?
Guillem turned to him, scanning him once again with new eyes. It wasn’t easy to tell with just a glance. Human expressions were hard to read at times. They were far more outwardly expressive than elves, but those expressions so often conflicted with each other that one look on his face could mean ten different things depending on the context. She would have to simply interact more, the same way she did with everyone.
The guardsman’s face was far easier to discern. Disgust was a human expression that she was intimately familiar with. Although, for once, it wasn’t directed her way. “Friends with monsters,” he scoffed before shaking his head. “So, to clarify, Alyssa did not request anything be made. Nor did she speak with you at all?”
“Nope! Nope,” Guillem said with a grin. “I forgot the person existed until just now.”
That was apparently not what the guardsman wanted to hear. At the same time, was that relief on his face? Or something else. Humans really needed to grow their ears out a little more.
“If I find out you’ve lied to me, no amount of good standing will protect you or your master from the consequences.”
Not even giving Guillem a chance to respond, the guardsman turned toward the door. Red suit billowing behind him, he marched off. His two bodyguards, who Guillem had successfully identified as being utterly unimportant, went with him.
“I-I’m sorry,” Jason said softly. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine. It’s fine,” Guillem said with a wave of her hand, not caring what he was trying to apologize for—he apologized far too often in her opinion. “But I think our meeting is done for today,” she said with a glance to the scrap that had once been a steam engine. “Come back in two days. I should have a new prototype by then. We can discuss further improvements or changes.”
“Oh… Well, alright,” he said with a light sigh.
Shooing a possible sympathizer out so quickly might not be the best option, but Guillem did have work to do. Besides, cultivating such relationships should not be done hastily. That led to mistakes and ruination. She could take things slowly, work on his project with him, and feel him out. And his other sympathizer companion. It wouldn’t be good to invite her here so soon. Not with the city guard apparently watching her movements. They needed a more clandestine meeting place. Or a coincidental one.
Until then, Guillem would continue as she always had, working hard as a blacksmith slave.
Though first, she might have to start penning a letter to her superiors in the Empire about these developments with possible sympathetic humans.