TSA: Chapter Thirty-Five: Steam

Chapter Thirty-Five: Steam

• April 14th

James is a strange kid, but in the good way, you know? Quiet as a mouse most days, but his eyes—they don’t miss a thing. Been three months since he came here, though it feels longer. Not in a bad way. It’s just that he fits, like he’s been here all along, which is something, considering where he came from.

City boy on a farm—who’d have thought he’d take to it? But he has. Yesterday, he was out in the barn with David, fixing up that old tractor that hasn’t run right in years. I peeked in, and there he was, elbow-deep in grease, nodding along as David rattled off one of his long-winded explanations. Over supper, David said, “That boy’s quick. Picks up things like he’s known ’em all his life.” And that’s David—he doesn’t throw compliments around like candy.

It’s not just the tractor. James is everywhere. In the garden with me last week, planting beans and carrots like he’d been doing it forever. He doesn’t say much while we work, but there’s a calm about him, like he’s settling into this rhythm, this quiet life. It’s good for him, I think.

Today, I caught him laughing. Rusty got into the chicken coop again—feathers flying everywhere, chickens losing their heads—and James just stood there, laughing like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. I hadn’t heard him laugh like that before, and it stopped me cold for a second.

He’s still carrying it, though, what happened to Joan and Mia. I see it in the way he stares off sometimes, like he’s listening for something he can’t quite hear. But this place, this life—it’s working on him. Softening the edges, maybe.

Anyway, he’s a good kid. A strange one, sure, but good. And I think, given enough time, he’ll be all right.

…

—Page 342, Mary Wilson’s dairy.

✥✥✥

Faywyn, 4th Moon, 25th Day, 1624 Symfora Telos

The smithy was stifling, the heat pressing against the skin like a heavy cloak, and the air heavy with the acrid stench of coal smoke and scorched metal. The walls were dark with soot, and the glow from the forge cast flickering patterns on the stone floor. Levi stood near the centre of the room, his hands blackened with grime, his gaze fixed on the monstrous contraption before him. It was a machine of iron and copper, raw and unpolished, its pipes and gears sprawling across a makeshift frame like the bones of some ancient beast.

The first task was always the water. Levi knelt by the base of the machine, his fingers running over the brass valve of the reservoir. “Braun,” he called softly, not looking up.

“Yes, my lord?” The blacksmith’s voice came from across the room.

“Check the seams. I want no leaks before we begin.”

Braun moved forward with his usual deliberate gait, his thick hands wiping against a rag tucked into his belt. He crouched beside Levi, inspecting the connections with the practised eye of a craftsman. “Tight as they’ll go, my lord,” he said after a moment.

“Good.” Levi stood, brushing his hands against his tunic. “Kord, bring the water.”

In the corner, the boy straightened from where he’d been stacking iron rods. Braun’s youngest was lean and wiry, his face streaked with soot and his hair darkened by the grime of the forge. He moved without hurry, hefting a bucket of water carefully as he approached.

“Here, my lord,” the boy said setting the bucket down beside Levi.

Levi gave him a nod, watching as the water was carefully poured into the cistern. The sound of it was soft, almost soothing, as it filled the chamber at the machine’s heart.

“Enough,” Levi said, and Kord stepped back.

“The fire, then?” Braun asked.

Levi nodded. “Yes.”

Braun moved to the forge, taking up the iron tongs. He drew an ember from the flames, its glow fierce and alive, and lowered it into the firebox beneath the boiler. Smoke billowed briefly as the ember caught charcoal, and Braun adjusted the air vents, coaxing the fire to life.

Steam began to hiss faintly, the sound rising like a whisper. Levi leaned over the pressure gauge, his brow furrowing as the needle twitched. It was a crude device, a brass dial that Braun had hammered into place, but it served well enough for their purposes.

“Seal the secondary vent,” Levi instructed, stepping back.

Kord moved to the side of the machine, his hands steady as he twisted the iron valve shut. The hiss grew louder, the pipes trembling faintly as the pressure built.

“It’s rising,” Braun said, his voice cautious. He stood to the side, his hammer resting loosely in his grip.

Levi didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were fixed on the gauge, watching as the needle crept upward, climbing toward the mark they’d etched into the dial. “Wait for it…” he murmured.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

At last, the needle reached its mark. Levi stepped forward, his hand grasping the main lever. “Now,” he said, and pulled.

The release was sudden and powerful. Steam surged into the pistons, and the machine groaned as its gears began to move. Slowly at first, the flywheel turned, its motion uneven. Then, with a rhythmic clank, it smoothed into a steady rotation.

Levi exhaled, a grin spreading across his face. “It works,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief and triumph. He turned to Braun and Kord, the light of the forge catching the excitement in his expression. “It bloody works!”

Braun didn’t smile, though his expression softened. He leaned closer, watching the machine warily, his hammer still in hand. “Careful, my lord. She’s not steady yet.”

But Levi was already pacing around the contraption, pointing out its movements like a bard recounting a great tale. “The piston stroke! The pressure regulation! This—this could change everything, Braun. Imagine—”

A deafening bang cut him short, followed by the screech of twisting metal. The flywheel jerked violently, its motion halting as rivets flew free from their housings. Steam hissed furiously from a ruptured pipe, filling the room with a scalding fog.

“Out!” Braun roared, shoving Kord toward the door. Levi staggered back, coughing as the heat and steam engulfed him. Braun seized a heavy iron rod, slamming it against the main valve to cut off the flow.

When the room finally quieted, the hiss fading to a soft wheeze, Levi stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving. He coughed, waving away the lingering steam as he stepped closer. “Everyone all right?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Aye, my lord,” Braun said, though his tone was grim. Kord poked his head in, his expression tight but calm.

They gathered around the contraption, its once-promising form now marred by twisted pipes and fractured joints. Braun crouched beside the damage, his hands running over the split seams.

“The pipe’s burst,” he said. “Too thin, or the pressure was too much for it.”

Levi knelt beside him, his brow furrowed. “We reinforced it. I thought it would hold.”

“It held for a moment,” Braun said softly. “But this… it’s beyond what I know. We’re working with guesses, my lord.”

Kord, standing a few steps back, cleared his throat. “Maybe the fire was too strong,” he offered cautiously. 

Levi glanced at the boy, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe,” he said. “But the pressure is what drives the power. We can’t risk running it too low.”

Braun sighed, rising to his feet. “We’ll clean it up, my lord. But I don’t know how to fix it. Not in a way that’ll last. This beast needs a finer hand than mine. A craftsman trained in… well, I don’t know what. Something I’ve never seen before.”

Levi sat back on his heels, his gaze fixed on the ruined machine. The heat lingered in the room, oppressive and heavy, but his mind was already racing. “We’ll find a way,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “If it worked once, it will work again.”

Braun inclined his head. “As you say, my lord.”

Kord watched them both, his arms crossed. “I’ll fetch more water,” he said after a moment, his tone steady.

Levi didn’t answer, his thoughts consumed by the possibilities—and the failures—that lay before him. The machine had breathed, if only briefly. That was enough to keep him trying. For now. 

His musings however were interrupted by a sharp knock at the smithy’s door. Kord glanced toward Levi for permission before moving to answer it. He cracked the door open, and a young servant girl slipped inside, her face pale and her breath short from haste.

“My lord,” she said, dipping into a quick curtsy. “Madam Eliza requests an audience. She brings news… portents, she said.”

Levi straightened, the intensity of his focus shifting from the broken contraption to the girl. The Creed did not send word lightly, and whenever they did always heralded matters of grave importance. He nodded briskly. “Inform the madam I’ll see her in a moment. Ensure she is received properly.”

The girl bowed and darted away, leaving Levi to exchange a glance with Braun. The blacksmith raised an eyebrow but said nothing, returning to his work. Levi wiped his hands on a rag, the grime smearing rather than disappearing, and left the oppressive heat of the forge behind.