Coalescence of Great Minds

[Bleater]

Solo, Closed.

Pushing open the door to his flat, William's eyes were locked on the pocketwatch balancing on his hoof. The musty smell of steam that greeted him each time he walked outside was waiting for him, and wrapped around him like an old blanket that you never bother to throw out. Taking a step, he kicked behind him blindly, clipping the edge of the door with his hoof and sending it slamming shut, the rickety wood rattling on the frame even after the door clasp had caught.

2:36

He pushed the golden lid down over the face, shoving the watch down intot he pocket of his fitted vest. He walked with a brisk step, seemingly hurrying to be on time despite leaving for his appointment early.

I say, I've got to get down to Herzog Kresk's office by 3:00. Whatever this is, it certainly sounded important.

Ever since the victory at Gisela, William felt a sense of ease that was lacking before. A trip down the street before meant him stopping every few meters to look over his shoulder for watchful eyes; every meeting with the Herzog made his stomachs rise into his throat with fear. But now, he felt relaxed, enjoying the walk. Feeling the autumn wind run down the corridor that the street made between the buildings. Actually looking around at the scenery, not just walking through it. The same brownish-red of rust stains on the walls, the dull grey of cement and stone had once made him feel a sickness every time he walked through it. Before, every step felt like it was septic, like the very air he breathed that had left a metallic taste in his mouth was just an indicator to tiny bits of metal debris from nearby machiery floating in the air: Every inhale the promise of a slow death by lead poisoning.

Now, the rust and the stone and the cement, even the metallic taste in his mouth felt like home.

Ease wasn't the only thing he felt after Gisela. Word had spread through Ettermire about the event, and everywhere William went, eyes were on him. The same eyes he had shrinked away from before- hundreds of watchers looking to bring him to an end- now watched him in a whole new manner. As he walked down the cobbled street, he saw a group of a few adolescent drow girls, who looked at him before tucking their heads away with coy giggling. Young men scanned over him as if sizing him up before giving an acknowledging nod in his direction. Adoration. Adulation. Admiration.

Acceptance.

At the very least, he had that now. And inside, every time the sickness returned to him, every time that guilt that religion teaches you to have swelled in his stomach, this abated it. The lessons from his past tried to haunt him, tried to eat at him on the inside and tell him he was wrong or bad or amoral for turning his back on his namesake. For defecting to Alerar, he was the lowest of the low. But these nagging thoughts never lasted long, not while he basked in the warmth of acceptance. He had found a true home, a place for himself among the people he had been raised to see as enemies; back in the land of his birth, he had found nothing but prejudice, scorn, and rejection.

Is it so wrong to want someplace where you belong? Even if it is among those you've been taught are your enemies?

In his mind, he could already hear the voices of his old countrymen, having received word about his defection and the success at Gisela. They would spit bitterly just trying to pronounce his name, and they'd call him a heretic, a brigand, and a traitor. But for every hateful word they would say, William would pass another look of reverence, another smiling face of appreciation in Alerar. This is why the nagging doubts never got to him. He was close enough now to see the government center, a small, nondescript building that you'd never know was any different that any other just by looking at it. Offices of faceless, nameless workers who toiled behind the scenes to keep the cogs of the great machine that was Alerar moving smoothly. The sight hastened William's step as he smiled in eager anticipation.

I do wonder what that bloke Kresk has in store for me? He mentioned it involving my performance at Gisela... perhaps he wants to discuss some grand reward?

While not a greedy man by nature, caches of hidden treasures, property deeds, titles of authority... they all swam inside his horned head as he made his way to the doorway of the building. And he thought to himself how much nicer the place looked when you walked through the doorway with eagerness than when you went through the cast iron portcullis with fear.

[Bleater]

William sat in the plush mahogany chair in the herzog's office, a coy look wrapped around his snout. He shuffled his hindquarters a bit in the seat, partly out of anticipation and partly out of a peculiar fascination with the feel of the fluffy red velvet cushion against his rump. Herzog Kresk was at the wall on the opposite side of the room, looking through his personal par as his hand passed over several fluted crystal bottles, each with different colored liquors inside. He frowned as his hands passed each bottle that he decided against, seemingly unable to find the drink he desired. His eyes locked on one bottle with an amber colored liquor in it and a smile curled up on his cracked grey lips. Reaching out, he delicately pulled the crystal container out and held it up to the light of the window, inspecting it with a pleased look.

"Brandy?" he called back over his shoulder.

"I believe that shall do splendidly, old chap." William said, stopping his shuffling and sitting upright. It was far more pleasant to be sitting in the office this time, now that he knew the plush chair wasn't the proverbial "hot seat."

The drow official placed two glasses on the edge of the bar's ebony wood railing and pulled the stopper from the top of the bottle with a faint pop. Reaching up, he swept a patch of dark, stringy hair from in front of his face before gently tipping the bottle, the liquid sloshing into each glass. He replaced the stopper and bottle then reached a hand over each glass, his slender fingers running down the sides to carefully clutch each tumbler as he crossed over the lavish rug of his office. William took the glass with a nod, leaning forward and taking a sip of the drink, closing his eyes in enjoyment as he let the liquid linger in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.

Ah, no surprise that this bloke has the good stuff. It's been so long since I've had brandy this good...

"So," The drow said as he crossed back over the rug, walking around the massive ebony desk in the middle of the room and taking a seat in an equally massive chair that matched William's in design and comfort, "I have no doubt you're curious as to why I've called you here."

William balanced the old fashioned galls on an upturned hoof, swirling it gently as liquor rose and fell around the edges in ringed waves. He stared at the motion, seemingly entranced for a moment, but spoke up without diverting his attention from the distraction.

"Well, you said it had something to do with Gisela. I'm guessing you want a report on what happened?"

The dark elf sipped his own drink, letting out a pleased 'ahh' and smacking his lips before setting it on the table and looking across at the capran.

"Actually, I've gotten all the reporting I need. The soldiers were debriefed a few days ago and told me what transpired, and I must say that I'm impressed. You went into the entire campaign under the auspices that it would just be a skirmish or two for testing purposes; yet you managed not only to successfully cause the retreat of the opposition, but you were able to keep the Behemoth intact and rooted out the traitor Evanthor Lashgiver. And while the campaign wasn't a total success- what with the death of Corporal Krybirr..."

William flinched. He closed his eyes briefly as he felt the sensation of cold fingernails being dragged slowly up his back at the mention of Krybirr's name. It was still painful to think about the first Aleraran he considered a friend being gone.

"You did manage to recover his body so that he could be honored and receive a proper burial." The drow continued. "It was far more than I expected of you when I conscripted you for the assignment. And though it is a surprise, it certainly is a pleasant surprise. And though I had my doubts at your... conviction in defecting, the reports from the men have laid those worries to rest. I have every confidence that you truly are an Aleraran now."

William took another sip of his drink, shaking off the last of his chill and nodding in agreement towards the dark elf.

"I try not to make disappointment a habit." He said with a bit of inflection in his voice, letting a little bit of his newfound ego slip through his words.

"Good. Well, given your success at a task you were unfamiliar and ill-suited for, I'm interested to see just how well you do when we get you 'in your element', so to speak. I'm proposing a job for you, this one more along the lines of the kind of scholarly pursuits you are much more familiar with..."

Pulling his glass from off the desk, the drow took a lingering sip as he leaned back and kicked his polished boots up on the edge.

[Bleater]

"Though we got good information on the Behemoth and how it performs in battle," the dark elf said, looking stoic as he spoke, "it seems we were mistaken in our assumption that would be a dominant siege weapon. By all accounts, the greatest weapon we had at our disposal has been one that has already kept Alerar at the forefront of the technological world: the airships. Which- if I remember right- you have taken a keen interest in."

This should be interesting...

There was a curious look in William's eyes as his head tilted a bit, sizing up the herzog carefully.

"Indeed, I find them quite intriguing." he responded.

Holding his glass in front of his face, the official stared through it, William's shape contorted by the remaining liquid as he peered through it.

"Good, then this should fit perfectly for you." Kresk said, snapping his fingers around his glass firmly as he nearly hopped from his seat with such a sudden motion that it made William jostle in his chair with surprise. The drow grabbed a large piece of tan parchment off the desk, wider than the span of his shoulders, and carried it with him as he crossed the room back towards the goat. Turning it around, he handed it out towards the capran as he spoke.

"In two days, there will be a conference held here in Ettermire. We're holding an assembly of all sorts of great thinkers: scientists, academics, masters of various trades. They are all coming for one thing: to help design that"

William quickly gulped the last of his drink and reached down, setting the glass on the floor beside his chair before taking the parchment, stretching it out fully between the clefts of his hooves as he stared at it. It was mostly blank; it bore just some fine calligraphy running along the outer edge that could almost be mistaken for an elaborate border, and two words written in large print at the top of the sheet: "The Capricorn" William looked at the blank space curiously, then glanced over the sheet with confusion.

"I-I...I'm not quite sure I understand. This parchment's blank." William stammered out.

The herzog cleared his throat, taking another sip and pointing at the large sheet with a slim, spider-like finger.

"It's going to be your job to change that. The purpose of the conference is going to be to confer and design Alerar's first fully-armored airship. I want you to attend, take notes of all the discussion, and even add your own input. Once the entire thing is resolved, I want you to scribe and draw the plans for the final design out and bring them back to me."

The drow turned, walking back towards his desk as William sat there, stunned. His mouth opened and closed in silent babbling of surprise as his mind swam and his eyes stared at the blank page.

This is what you've always dreamed about, Willy-boy. A once-in-a-lifetime shot...

The dark elf slid a desk drawer open with the faint sound of grinding wood and reached in to pull a set of papers from inside it.

"Of course, only the most qualified scholars and tradesmen are allowed into the conference. So in order to have you appear on my behalf..." he crossed the room, holding out another set of papers. "I've taken the liberty of having some credentials fabricated for you. It's essentially a Masters degree in Aeronautic Engineering from the University of Alerar at Ettermire. It's sealed and been signed off on by the heads of the university, so it shouldn't draw any concern to its validity if anyone questions it, and will allow you to attend the conference and complete this job for me. Which, of course, you will be rewarded for upon completion."

William reached a shaking hand past the parchment to take the dummy papers from the official as he continued to stare in disbelief.

"I... I don't quite know what to say."

The drow let a grin most sinister slip across the front of his face as he leaned towards the goat engineer confidently.

"Say you'll take the job..."

The herzog knew the answer before William said it. William had known it halfway through the proposal. Looking up at the dark elf looming over him, William nodded firmly and gave his reply.

"I do believe I shall..."

[Bleater]

As William walked down the streets, his heart pounded in his chest. The satchel at his side suddenly seemed very itchy, as is the contents were coated in some sort of allergen powder. He shuffled the leather against his side, grinding it gently against his fur with each step as he looked ahead. Ankhas- the great library- stood directly ahead of him like a beacon to guide his trek. Slightly east in his field of view, a plume of steam still lingered over the downtown train station to herald the arrival of distant visitors. From the height of the cloud and the rate it was dissipating, it could have only arrived minutes ago, but that still would have given the occupants ample time to disembark and head to the conference hall.

As he came closer, he began to be able to see around the corner of Ankhas to the large square building behind it. The conference hall stood firmly despite paling in size to the surrounding buildings; it's white ionic columns seemed like blockades lining the face of the building and it's dark gray bricks pressed so tightly together that they looked like well forged scale armor. Though half the size of its neighboring structures, it seemed as if even a cannon blast wouldn't so much as shake the building. A few stray men in aristocratic garb were making their way into the building, leaving the outside yard surprisingly empty, while the street leading up to it had loitering figures milling about. William took one final check into his bag at the contents as he hastened his steps to the building.

Inside, the parchment rested in a tight bundle. He had found out since the meeting that it was no ordinary piece of paper, but one magically tempered to resist tearing, cutting, and fire. Aptly, the vial of ink that lay next to it in the satchel had also been given to him with an explanation of its magical properties: it was enchanted with a protective ward that not only made it waterproof, but resistant to arcane methods of erasing. In the simplest terms, anything put on the parchment with that ink wasn't going anywhere, so it was absolutely essential to be accurate. These materials could nearly redefine "permanent." wrapped gently to the side of them was the page of credentials, the perfect forgery William would use to get into the conference. Nodding with confidence, he redoubled his steps as he pulled the top flap of the satchel closed and made his way up the steps to the fortress of a building before him.

The polished floors of the atrium were so well maintained that they were slick to William's hooves, and he had to tread with a light, tip-toeing walk as he looked around. What had seemed diminutive on the outside seemed massive by comparison inside, as William gazed around the brass moldings leading to three floors of large foyer rooms. In front of him, a huge marble desk sat with two bulky drow behind it, each with folded arms. They looked at the outer edges of the desk, almost as of they were also guarding the large doors to the central auditorium that sat on either side of the desk. One of them dropped his hands at William's approach and stepped forward, reaching over the desk with an outstretched hand in a gesture to stop the goat.

"That'll be far enough. I'm not sure who let livestock in here, but I think it'd be best for you to turn back."

William could feel the blood warming in his veins as his eyes narrowed, a hoof sliding into his satchel. With a rough strike, he slammed the piece of paper with his credentials on the countertop, the dark elf in front of him simply continuing to stare. The drow shoved the paper off to his left, not even looking at it as he leaned forward, placing both hands on the desktop while his colleague leaned over to peek a curious eye at the paper.

"Perhaps it doesn't speak tradespeak so well? Well, I can't exactly bleat, so you're going to have to get it through your thick, horned skull that-" but the burly drow was cut off by his dark elven companion clearing his throat loudly.

"Maybe you should take a look at his papers, Drexer."

With a quick glance over, the scowled face turned back to William.

"Ooh, a masters in aero-what's-it engineering." The sentry mocked. "How very fascinating."

With a tepid look, the other drow hung his head, shaking it negatively.

"Not that part."

With a second glance, the dark elf began reading aloud.

"Is awarded to Mr. William Stein....bock... oh." The drow said, his tone immediately softening and his face dropping as beads of sweat began to form on his brow.

"Oh... I... um... I-I-I-I didn't realize you were... I mean... please, go ahead, Mr. Steinbock."

He slinked away as he pushed open the door to his right, bowing his head. William continued to look angrily at his as he snatched up the paper, stuffing it roughly in the satchel and marching past the dark elf with his snout upturned. As William passed, the other drow slapped the first on the back of the arm, grimacing.

"Good going, Drexer. Go and mock the hero of Gisela. We'll be lucky to pull stable guard duty for the next few months with a stunt like that..."

[Bleater]

As William entered into the auditorium room, he was met with a raucous clamor and a sight that made it look more like a bar than a conference room. Dozens of men were gathered around, many standing from their chairs, each trying to shout over the others with red faces and spittle flying. It was total disorder as they shook their fists in the air for effect and yelled louder and louder, seemingly edging on an all out brawl. Just to his left, William saw a set of azure eyes lock onto his own from behind silver wire-rimmed glasses. Standing with a look of awe, the drow woman brushed black hair away from her face, clutching a set of papers close to her chest as she began pushing through the unruly crowd and rushing towards William with a grin of anticipation.

"Oh thank goodness you're here! You're Mr. Steinbock, right?" she said loudly, her voice still barely audible over the roar of the arguing crowd. As she tipped her head forward, her glasses slid to the end of her nose, and she struggled to hold onto her papers while pushing them back up.

"What is going on here? And who are you?" William said, shouting to try to get over the crowd.

The girl nearly fumbled her papers as she held them between her elbows, reaching both hands around the stack to grab William's hoof and shake it vigorously as her glasses slid forward again.

"My name is Dalika, and I'm going to be somewhat of an assistant to you for the conference. I'm assuming Herzog Kresk gave you the memo?" she blurted out rapidly.

"Well, actually-" William said before being cut off by fast talking.

"No bother, it's not important anyway. I'm sure someone of your status and reputation doesn't need to be bothered with little details." She fired off, adding s brief, snorting laugh at the end of as she pushed her glasses up to the bridge of her nose again.

"Right... so-" William began before the feminine voice chimed in loudly to interrupt him again.

"So, I'm sure you must be eager to get up to your seat, right? Right, of course, how silly of me. Follow me this way." she said, turning quickly and clutching the papers in a tight bearhug. She began pushing her way through the crowd as William paused a moment, shaking his head.

Right... note to self: hide all sugary foods from this lass immediately.

William pushed through the crowd likewise, booming voices making a sea of deafening nonsense in all directions. He had to shove roughly to get past some of the men in the aisleway as he kept his eyes locked on the slender girl making her own way through the fray. She marched right up to the foot of the auditorium stage, where she turned and had to push up her sliding glasses once more. William caught up to her and hesitated, his eyes looking over at the large desk with a podium atop it that was sitting wide on the empty stage. Stammering, he rose his voice as best as he could muster as he leaned in towards Dalika.

"I th-th-think there's been some mistake here," he said timorously.

"Oh, no, not at all." She responded in her entirely too fast speech. "You have the main podium, of course. Where else would the host of the conference sit? Oh wait, that was in the memo too. Did you say you had gotten it?"

William barely had a chance to open his mouth before he blew a raspberry with her lips and waved a hand through the air.

"Bah, nevermind. Certainly that'll be no problem for someone like you. Yes, you're the host, the one who's going to be leading the conference so to speak, and our chairs are up there." She said, absently pointing a finger back over her shoulder to the stage.

William cut a sideways glance of uncertainty at the girl. Her vigor and cheerful demeanor wasn't putting him to any ease as she might have hoped; if anything her hyperactivity seemed to add to his anxiety as his breathing had slowly increased and his heart rate began pounding faster and faster. Looking back at the swarm of chaos in the room behind him, William let out a sigh as he pulled his satchel closer to his side. He turned and strode up the steps effortlessly before taking long clunky steps across the wooden stage. Like a shadow, Dalika followed behind him, clutching her papers with a cheery smile on her face. Reaching the podium, William unshouldered his bag and dropped it on the desk in front of him, then turned to survey the crowd. Drow, Human, and Dwarf, there were scholars, academics, scientists, tradesmen and aristocrats, and they all were acting like wild children as they bickered with one another in ever-loudening voices.

William scowled before banging his front hoof roughly on the edge of the podium.

Bang Bang Bang Bang!

While the gesture had drawn a few glances and dimmed the clamor slightly, but the majority of the cacophony remained. Setting her papers down on the small desk adjacent to William's, Dalika leaned forward, bracing the edge as she let out a booming yell.

"QUIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETTTTTTT!!!

The room fell to a sudden hush as William stared at the small woman with surprise that such a thunderous sound could come from such a little creature. With a coy grin, she simply shrugged as she looked back at him, before speaking in a soft tone.

"The floor is all yours, Mr. Steinbock."

Blinking for a second, William turned his attention back to the crowd as he muttered to himself.

"Well, then I guess we can get started..."

[Bleater]

There was obvious displeasure in William's voice as he addressed the now-quiet crowd.

"It seems that things have gotten off on the wrong foot here with each other, and I expect I am not going to see a display like I was privy to when I entered this room. You bloke are all established scientists and scholars, masters of your trades; I'll assume that means that everyone in this room knows how to act like a gentleman, yes?"

There were a few low murmurs as William glanced accusingly over the group of thinkers with the staunch glare of a military leader.

"Good. Now, we will only speak one at a time and we will allow others to finish before we speak. Also, since many of you are unfamiliar with each other, I think it apropos that you lads introduce yourself when you're speaking. Now, with that rabble out of the way, I am Mr. Steinbock. I am an engineer and will be the host of this conference, who will also ultimately transcribe our final product. Now, with that out of the way, I'm assuming we all know why we're here."

The crowd is hushed with the exception of a lone dwarf who loudly scoffs at the mention and mutters to himself. This draws a sharp glance from William, who points a hoof sternly at him.

"You, there, I am guessing you have something to share with us?"

The dwarf rolled his eyes as heads began to turn to look at him. With a bit of a pout, he stood up from his seat, looking around at the other faces.

"I'm Gerrand Thornsworth, master smithy from Kachuck," his eyes turned towards the stage to fall on William, "and what I said, sir, is that we've been brought here to do the impossible. I mean, I want to succeed at this as much as anyone, but an armored airship? That's just fanciful thinking."

William waited until he was finished before clearing his throat before responding.

"Well, Mr. Thornsworth, in a world where men can manifest swords of fire from thin air, clerics can heal mortal wounds with but a touch, and a promising young scientist can be turned into a talking goat..." he glared at these last words. "I would think it better to keep an open mind as to just what is and isn't impossible. Now, with the task we've been handed, there's going to be a lot of ground we have to cover. Perhaps there is someone here who might actually have some insight as to what we're up against?"

The crowd went silent again as the dwarf sat down, eyes wandered back and forth among each other pleadingly until finally a slender drow hand slid up into the air.

"Ah, yes, you." William said, with a point of his hoof, prompting an almost sickly thin drow to stand up.

"Kexxiz Heibrek, Airship Design Technician. My crew and I help design and build the airships currently in use by our nation."

William nodded, rubbing his hoof under his chin.

"Quite the mouthful of a name you've got there, sir. So, if you blokes design airships, what can you tell us about our project here."

The drow shuffled a bit where he stood, rocking side to side on his heels as he looked down timidly.

"Well, sir... we've known about this project for two days now and everyone in my office has been working on it. So far, we've come up with nothing: at least, not any solutions that work without creating all new problems."

William leaned back in his chair, spotting Dalika diligently taking notes at her desk in his peripherals. Looking to the ceiling, William stretched both his hooves behind his head and stretched out.

"Well, I'm certain that we have enough great minds here that we can come up with some solutions your office hasn't thought of, or perhaps ways to work past the new problems you're encountering. Why don't we begin with the core issues. In your opinion, sir, what are the problems we're facing here?"

Shuffling more uncomfortably at the prolonged time in the spotlight, the normally reclusive technician spoke up again.

"Basically, everything, sir. I mean, at the very heart of the issue, we can manage steering and the like, but actual flight is going to be the problem. If we armor an airship the armor will add to the weight, and under current designs it means we'll have too much drag and not nearly enough lift for any flight, much less stable flight. I mean, we'd have to completely overhaul propulsion, we'd have to take materials into account... it's almost like having to rework the entire thing from the ground up. We have the basic designs, but that's just a starting point, really."

William peeked down from his upward gaze and nodded at the technician, who sat as quickly as he could, almost melting back into his chair.

"Alright, so, the armor is what we're adding that's causing these problems. Let's look at it first." Casting a glance back to the dwarf from earlier, William coughed slightly before motioning his head in the smithy's direction. "Mr. Thornsworth. You said you're a master smith, what would you suggest for our armor?"

Where he has seemed incredulous before, the dwarf now looked like he was caught in front of a cavalry charge. He hadn't expected being called upon again so quickly, and stood up with a far-away gaze in his eyes.

"Um... well, we're going to have to use something sturdy, extremely resistant to damage. I mean, this thing's got to be able to take a beating and still stay in the air. Obviously, steel would be the first choice."

There was a sudden murmur over the crowd, before a human raised his hand. William nodded to him, which prompted him standing.

"I'm Cedric Bingly, and I'm a physicist. I think Mr. Thornsworth isn't taking into account that steel is going to be entirely to heavy, at least in the thickness we'd have to plate it to make it effective. I'm going to have to disagree and suggest that we use a lighter metal... something like Mythril perhaps?"

There was an even louder murmur before the dwarf spoke back up, staring a hole through the scientist.

"Preposterous! There's no way we could get the kind of mythril we'd need for a job like this! It's entirely impractical!"

William dropped from his relaxed pose and leaned over his desk again.

"Just because you are a naysayer on the project, Mr. Thornsworth, I advise you again to avoid being close minded as to what can be done to see this thing through."

Flabbergasted, the dwarf shook his head before looking back up to William firmly.

"With all do respect to you and Mr. Bingly here, it cannot be done. Even if the government could commit the kind of money it would take to get that amount of mythril, you'd never find someone who could actually provide a shipment that size, not among the people we trade with. It'd simply be too much, even if we could afford it."

"Oh, as if you have any other alternatives?" The human chimed in sarcastically, a smug look on his face.

The crowd began to get lively again, and the murmur began to rise into a clamor once again. William closed his eyes, already feeling the onset of a headache from this whole ordeal as he reached forward and pounded his hoof on the desk again. Slowly, the crowd began to die down as he stared out over them and saw a new, black skinned hand in the air.

"Yes, you have something to add?" William said, the frustration apparent in his voice as a young but hefty built dark elf stood up.

"Well, I'm Jesler Parrick, and I'm a carpenter by trade. Now, I may not know a whole lot about this kind of thing, but wouldn't damascus work? I mean, sure it's heavier than mythril, but it's not as heavy as steel."

William looked from the drow back to the dwarven smith with a curious look.

"Well? Would it work?"

The dwarf lingered in thought, looking perplexed as he rubbed his chin.

"I imagine it's possible, but I don't know if it would be sturdy enough for what we need."

"Then, um..." the drow carpenter began "pardon if I'm interruptin', but is there anyway you could make it stronger? Like, reinforcing it or making an alloy out of it?"

All faces in the room seemed troubled as they thought it over, before William looked up and offered his own idea.

"I do say, we've still got a trade alliance with Salvar, don't we? Could we use osmium with damascus as an alloy?"

The murmur softly rises until the dwarf looks up, as if suddenly thinking of it himself.

"That could actually work..." the dwarf said, his voice almost trailing off. "Certainly it would make it a bit heavier, but it would greatly strengthen it, beyond even mythril. Obviously we could only use so much of it, but I think if we ran some channels or patches of a osmium alloy in with the damascus, it could actually work."

William looked over to the human physicist who had spoken up in disagreement before.

"Mr. Bingly?"

Cedric frowned as he thought, then stood again, shaking his head affirmatively.

"It's by no means ideal. I mean, it's not something like prevalida, but it's something the could work. Not to mention it's realistically feasible that we could get both the damascus and osmium for the job. So, yes, I'll have to agree."

William nodded, feeling the first hint of relief as he looked over and watched Dalika writing all of this down.

"Very good. the first stepping stone is out of the way. Now to get even thicker into this mess..."

[Bleater]

The next hour had gone much more smoothly. consulting with the caprentry specialists, the think tank had settled on the type of wood to be used, as well as how to mount it with the metal armor. And surprisingly, there had been little bickering among the inflated egos in the room, each thinking they know better than the others. At the end of the hour, someone had mentioned propulsion. That opened a whole knew book of problems, and had drew arguing that had set them at a standstill. William's head had been pounding with such a headache that even with all the noise, the only thing he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears.

That's when he called a recess for lunch.

He had been hurredly writing on some scrap pieces of paper in his bag for half the break, sitting on the cool stone steps in front of the building. The long, slender slabs of marble had provided a seat that was soothing beneath him like a autumn breeze; the stone seemed oblivious to the midday sun beating down on it in a furitive attempt to warm it. William glanced up to see Dalika crossing the courtyard towards him with a thin bag in her hands that had gentle curls of steam rising from it. The smell of cooked vegetables drifted ahead of her and her chipper grin.

"You've been so busy, Mr. Steinbock. Lunch?"

William delicately laid the quill down with his cloven hoof to his side, right next to the ink well. It was the same enchanted ink that he would use for the final schematic, though despite writing two pages with it so far it had used less than a fifth of the ink in the vial. There would be plenty for the design, and he absently ignored as a drop fell from the quill to the steps to leave a black dot on the marble that would never come off.

"I say, that should be quite lovely, Ms.... um... I'm sorry, Dalika, I don't believe I ever caught your last name."

With a sligth grin, the drow sat to his right side, shuffling in the bag with an eager look as a plume of wonderfully smelling steam rose from inside.

"Krybirr. Dalika Kyrbirr."

As she pulled a steamed turnip from inside the bag, gently unfolding the paper wrapper around it, she didn't look up to notice the look of total shock on William's face. Right then, he felt his throat close up as his mind suddenly rang, the same way your senses are disoriented if you're hit in the back of the head suddenly. White stars crisscrossed his eyes as a high pitched ring came into his ears for a second at the mention of the name.

"W-w-w-wait... did... did... did you just say Krybirr?"

The girl gently set the roasted bulb down, rooting into the bag for her own food as she nodded, using one hand to push her glasses up her nose.

"Yessir. Shalacious Krbirr was my uncle."

The young lady's cheek twitched as her mouth tried to pull into a frown, but she willfully tugged the corners of her mouth up into a pleasant grin.

"Oh. Look, Dalika... I'm sorry about your uncle. I was there when-"

Reaching out, she pressed two fingers to William's fuzzy lips to quiet him, closing her eyes gently to hide her mixed emotions.

"I know. You were with my uncle in the end. Some of his men brought back his diary from Gisela, and filled us in on all the details that uncle Sal was unable to write down himself. He would have been happy to die like he did."

Opening her eyes, she grinned with her usual childish manner.

"And besides, he had a lot of good things to say about you, so it's an honor to be able to assist someone that he held in such high regard."

Feeling awkward, William shuffled his hooves back and forth on the bottom step with a faint grinding sound as he lowered his head and silently bit into his food. For as much as a statement like that should have bolstered his ego, William found it instead to be incredibly humbling.

"And besides," the chipper young girl piped up, "the conference is going great!"

William rolled his eyes.

"Oh, that circus? Yes, things are going just swimmingly."

Dalika looked surprised as her head jerks up, her glasses sliding down her nose again but being caught with a deft finger.

"I take it then that you didn't hear? A few of these 'academics'... well, you know how they are. Once they start a debate, they don't let anything stand in their way; lunch included. Several of them continued going over it after you called the recess and it seems they actually came to some sort of loose agreement."

She grinned broadly enough that her teeth slipped between her lips with a flash of white. William raised an eyebrow.

Oh, sure. Cause a headache for me when I'm having to keep the whole thing in order, but as soon as they're out of my hair they actually go and end up being productive.

"Hmph." The goat said as he crossed his hooves in front of his chest. "Did you take notes on what they said?"

The drow girl's lips pinched over to the side of her face in a regretful look, but her head nodded in affirmation.

"Some. They're just loose and quick notes I made on my way out to go get the food, but it covers their core idea."

William nodded and picked the pen up from the step beside him, leaving a stained ink spot on the stone that would never come out.

"Good. I'll start transcribing them for the rest of this recess. I trust you can start rallying everyone back and get things prepared for us to resume?"

The girl snapped up to her feet and gave a poor salute.

"Yes sir, I'll get right on it!"

As she turned, William cleared his throat loudly to stop her. Dalika looked back over her shoulder to see the goat nodding towards the second bundle of steamed vegetables.

"While I appreciate your vigor, young lady... don't forget your food as well. Hate for it to go to waste."

The girl quickly scooped up the parcel and adjusted her glasses again before rushing off on her task. As he watched her leave, William couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle.

Quite the spitfire that one is. Must run in the family...

[Bleater]

As William stepped back into the auditorium, he felt like he had walked into a hot fog. The air was warm and humid from dozens of mouths spewing hot air all at once, each trying to talk louder than the other. Two things were very clear to the Capran: first was that the young drow lass had not been exaggerating that nothing stood in the way of an academic debate, not even lunch; and second was that the chaotic display he was walking into was even worse than this morning, and only worsening as the day drew long.

Stomping down the aisle through the cloud of yelling voices and warm air, William felt heat of his own growing inside his belly.

Well, old boy, time for the show. If you can rally and control a bunch of war-trained killers, you can wrestle this crowd down to knuckle under.

Dalika was already waiting for him next to the stage in disarray as she shuffled through papers and notes. William stepped next to her with his chest puffed out and slammed his forehoof three times brashly on the oaken stand.

CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP

The shouting trailed down as surprised faces whipped back towards the stage, seeing the goat conducting the conference glaring out at the crowd behind boiling blood.

"Alright, lads, I've had it with the lot of you. It's becoming increasingly obvious to me that your already horrid behavior today is only going to get worse. Quite frankly, I have neither the time nor the patience to argue at length every finite point of these proceedings." He narrowed his gaze on the few voices still trying to argue amongst each other, and made sure to drown them out. "And I also have no desire to hear you quibble amongst yourselves over it either! Now, I've begun drawing the plans, and made great headway while you 'gentlemen' were in here blowing hot air at one another. I just need the final points to conver and I can complete my work."

The goat scanned over the room, all the other voices dead. Blank stares looked up at him as he scanned over petulent faces wrapped in scowls and pouts like scorned children. His eyes locked on the dwarf from the earlier proceedings.

"Mr. Thornsworth. Did you have time to double check our decision about using damascus-osmium alloy for the armor?"

The dwarf's eyes shot wide as sweat began to form, not expecting to be put on the spot.

"Um... errr..." he stammered behind his beard. "Yes, sir. I contacted some people in my offices on lunch. The materials would certainly be available and barely within the budget we could project. And it would be more beneficial than we thought."

William's eyebrow began crawling up his forehead curiously.

"Beneficial how?"

"Well, since we're armoring the underside of the ship primarily, the light metal with blue veins of the alloy would provide a somewhat camoflaguing effect. Of course, only amid somewhat cloudy days, but it's still a side benefit."

William nodded, turning his head to waste no more time than needed.

"Mister...." William shuffled to a rudamentary seating chart in the notes atop the podium. "...Laxir, is it?"

He looked up to the left side of the crowd as an aged drow slinked down in his seat, trying to avoid the stare of the speaker and the rest of the audience.

"Mr. Laxir, you are an expert on combustible fuels if my paper is correct. Where are we on propulsion?"

The drow cleared his throat roughly before tepidly standing.

"Well, we're going to have to make a combined fuel. Fast, hot-burning fuel to cover takeoffs and maneuvers, slow burning to maintain flight. We're considering using coal for the sustained flight, and-"

The scientist was cut off my a chortle of disagreement from another academic a few seats down from him. With a hateful glare, William stomped along the planks to the head of the stage, pointing a forehoof out accusingly.

"You! Is your name Hanan Laxir?" The goat spat with a venomous tone.

The academic looked with surprise as he pointed a dried finger back into his own chest.

"Me? No, sir..."

"Then you will be quiet. I asked to hear from Mr. Laxir on this subject, not you." Turning back to the drow scientist, William nodded his head, "Proceed."

"Um... yes... well, we can suspend the solid coal in a fast burning liquid fuel. Something as simple as lead paint mixed with powdered boxite ore would do the trick. It would burn away around the coal quickly, and the coal itself would maintain the heat of the mixture."

William stomped a foot and nodded, striding back to the podium.

"Good. Propulsion is done. Is someone going to tell me what our final soultion for core design is, or do I need to call on one of you by name?"

Heibrek, the sickly looking drow Design Technician, stood up hurredly.

"Sir, we're thinking a hybrid desgin of a turbine-type airship and a zeppelin."

Not wasting a second, William nodded and made a waving gesture to tell the dark elf to sit.

"Good. I had thought much the same myself. It's settled. Next..." twisting his neck, he looked behind him at Dalika scrawling away fast enough that her quill could have caught fire from the effort. "Are you getting all this?"

Without even looking up, she nodded, sending her glasses bouncing down to the tip of her nose.

"Good. Next.... Mr. Bingly! Have you..." William's voice drifted from the military tone as his eyes slipped over thr crowd, but saw no sign of the human pyhsicist. "Where is Mr. Bingly? Has anyone seen him?"

There raised an instant murmur as the scholarly group began looking around. The empty seat suddenly stood out like a bloodstain on a wedding dress as the auditorium was full of searching eyes atop shrugging shoulders. It was a young dwarf who stood, pointing beyond the right edge of the stage.

"There he is, right there!"

All eyes turned- including William's- to the direction of the pointing finger. The tall, stocky human cast a guilty glance over his shoulder at the room full of prying eyes. He was sent into a panic as he lunged forward, shoving his way out of a side exit. He rushed out the doorway, a leather satchel bouncing on his shoulder with rolled papers sticking out.

William's glare narrowed as he lowered himself to all four hooves, because he recognized the satchel.
It was his.

[Bleater]

Dull grey stones raced below William's feet as he pursued the thief, rust-colored building whipping past. Though he was faster, the cornering was slowing his progress as the brigand darted between building and around every corner as he tore through amid the buildings of Ettermire. Too many alleys, to many structures, too easy to lose someone in the city. Still, William raced along with his heart slamming inside his chest like a train engine, slowly closing the gap despite the efforts to shake him. Finally, at a cross-path, the thief turned, brandishing a finely polished dagger from inside his shirt.

"STAY BACK!" He roared, thrusting the knife out into the air in front of him menacingly.

William slid to a halt on the stone path, looking with rage-filledeyes at the vagabond.

"Look, Cedric- or whatever your name is- you're not going to get away from me, and even if you do, surely the city guard will be onto you in the next few minutes. I don't know why you took the plans, but give them back to me and-"

William was interrupted by the coarse laughter of the knife-wielding menace in front of him. The thief pulled a large, rolled parchment from the bag and smiled with malice.

"These plans? Give them back to you? Not likely. Do you know how hard it was to get papers official looking enough to get inside that conference? Do you think we went through all this effort for nothing?"

He let out a sharp, his pitched whistle as he jutted the dagger out roughly in the air again to keep William back. The goat's ears picked up the bleating of hooves from behind him, and he instinctively dove to the side, slamming himself against a wall as an unseen horse raced past. "Cedric" held up the rolled parchment and the horse's rider reached down, snatching him from his hand and continuing on without pause, racing into the distance. William looked up to see the thief slinking towards him, with knife in hand.

"No, no... the plans are ours, and just to ensure that our rider has a chance to escape the city before the guard knows about him... well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to silence you."

William suddenly felt his resolve and vigor turn to panic as he shoved away from the wall, trying to get all four of his feet under him before the advancing foe could reach him. The dagger slashed through the afternoon air at William's neck. The capran flinched, turning his head to the side on impulse as he felt and heard the blade collide against his left horn. It made a slight chip in the horn, but certainly did less damage than if it had actually found its way to his throat. Scuttling back on all fours quickly, William opened his mouth and let out a thunderous bleat, waves of magical energy erupting from his lips.

The brigand seemed stunned for a second, his arm dipping quickly as he felt the surprising sensation that the dagger in his hand was as heavy as a full length sword. He trudged forward with weighted steps, still determined to advance. William surged forward, lowering his head and slamming the bony plate of his skull into the opponent's midsection.

It was a good tactic; He could hear all of the air rush out of the human's lungs as he toppled backwards from the blow. It was a bad tactic; the enemy spy let the down-turned dagger fall under the increased weight of it, dragging the blade over the back of William's left shoulder as he fell back to the ground. In a split second, William could feel every millimeter of burning pain as the blade edge split past fur and skin, slicing open capillaries and sending blood spurting out of the wound. It wasn't very deep- that much he could be thankful for- but having never felt his skin pierced by a blade before, the burning pain was all new to William.

With the line of searing on his shoulder, hot blood running down his front hoof, William felt the panic rise quicker. He knew now more than ever that he needed to incapacitate his foe or he would have to face the very real probability of his own mortality. While the treasonous enemy struggled to pull oxygen into his lung and right himself under his newfound weight, the capran lept into action. Whipping around on his hooves sharply, William turned his hindquarters towards his grounded foe. He leaned on his forehooves, the pain in his shoulder shooting up his neck from the shift in weight as he tucked both hind legs slightly in. Shoving with all his might, he kicked back with both of his hind legs roughly.

He felt the blow connect.

He heard the cracking sound. It made the pain in his arm die out from his mind.

Looking behind him, he felt a sick feeling rising in the pit of his stomach as his opponent flopped back onto the stone path. The thief didn't move after that, not even so much as a heartbeat, as a broken rib now rested, skewered through the man's heart.

William gasped for air, a mix of adrenaline and nausea racing through his veins with every pounding heartbeat. The world began to spin for him, and the goat staggered on all fours a few feet over to a wall to brace against. It was a challenge just to hold the contents of his stomach in while also clinging to his tenuous consciousness.

He had never killed a man before, and certainly hadn't intended it in this case.

He didn't bother in those first few seconds trying to justify it to himself in his mind. He didn't think about how the man was a traitor and a thief, and was stealing what could be one of Alerar's more valuable military plans. He didn't even think about how he was merely defending himself, trying to keep his own life from being taken. No, only two thoughts went through his head as the horse hooves of the city guard pounded towards them in the distance:

Don't get sick, old boy.

And for God's sake, don't you dare pass out, you tosser.

[Bleater]

The rest of the day had been spent with bureaucracy of the tallest order. Questioning and more questioning; first by the city guard who had arrived on the scene, then by all kinds of official "officials" wanting to know about the thief, the rider, the fight.

It had all given William quite a headache that persisted even to the evening. Dalika had been waiting for him at the conference hall with a look of dread until he walked up, which had prompted her to come flying off the steps with a massive hug around William's shoulders. Lovely lass, but in the instant, William had wanted to kick her halfway across town for clutching at his wound. But that had been hours before, and now William was in for the real treat. His wincing and stammering in pain had gotten the young drow girl's attention and she had seen that it had been treated enough to stop the bleeding, but little more.

At the present, she was determined to fix up the wound. William was not as eager.

"This is pretty deep, went into some of the muscle a little bit. You're lucky it didn't hit anything major." She said, looking down her nose through her glasses.

They were in a scarcely furnished room at the back fo the conference hall; a few cots, a drawing desk, and a handfull of chairs sat out for late-working diplomats who wouldn't bother going home. They had both decided to stay the night after the ordeal, and William found himself sitting in one of the chairs uncomfortably- to say the least- as Dalika poked around his wound a bit.

"You're definitely going to have to have this stitched up." she remarked.

Crossing across a floor almost as thickly-coated with wax of late-night candles as wood, the young drow made her way to her bag, rooting around inside.

"A-ha!" She proclaims, pulling out a spool of thread and a long, curved steel needle that William could have sworn was modeled after a griffon's talon.

"I hope that by 'A-ha!" you mean 'A-ha, I found the thing I'm not going to bring anywhere near the goat.' Because if not, you better hope you can find me a drink." He said with yellow eyes the size of tea saucers.

"I don't think so." She replied, shaking her head matronly as she made her way back across the room. "Alcohol will thin out the blood, we can't risk it."

"Trust me," He said, nearly crawling backwards in the chair away from her, "Alcohol will thin the pain. We can't risk not having it. Besides, the bleeding is stopped, aside whatever bit of it you're about to reopen with that harpy's claw you've got."

Rolling her eyes, Dalika pushed her glasses back up her nose and sighed. "Well, I guess if you're going to be a big baby about it..."

She goes to the drawing desk, opening a cabinet door on the side and pulling out an old bottle of wine, half full with the cork wavering in the top. Rooting a bit more to find a glass inside the cabinet, she uncorks it and pours with sloshy glug-glugs until the glass is full. She returns to William, handing him the glass before walking behind him and squinting in the lantern light at the wound. The wine smells a bit bad, like the cork hadn't put in place well enough, but connoisseur tastes are out the window now. This is a matter of necessity.

"You actually know what you're doing?" William says nervously before tipping the glass and drinking half the wine in it without pause.

"Of course I do, my mother taught me" the girl assures him, leaning in and wiping the wound gently with a cloth. "You have to remember, I come from a military family. All of the men were soldiers, so all the women needed to know how to patch up wounds when they returned home. Alerar may be excellent at military armament and techniques, but the work of their field medics always left something to be desired. I even had to stitch up Uncle Sal like this one time."

William grunted and took a hard gulp as the curved needle went into the edge of the wound, pulling across to the other side. Dalika stared intently at the task ahead of her, neatly pulling the needle along. She spoke up again, trying to get William's mind off the pain.

"So, are you alright?"

"You mean other than the claymore being jabbed into my shoulder right now?"

"Hush. If you'd hold still, it wouldn't hurt so bad."

William gulped another hard drink from the glass, unable to help squirming in his seat.

"No," Dalika piped up, "I mean... how do you feel about this afternoon. What happened with... you know."

"The man I killed." William said in a monotone voice.

"Yes." The drow girl responded, noting that the squirming had suddenly stopped and made her job much easier.

"I feel... unsettled." The capran said as he stared down into the red liquid in his glass. "Not even at the fact that I killed him. I mean, I felt sick straight away, so I knew that part was natural. But after that, I felt nothing. No guilt. No worry. Just, nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

"Aye. that's the unsettling part. I mean, you take a person's life for the first time and you expect some sort of huge emotional swing. Maybe you're a gung-ho soldier and you feel this rush. Or maybe you're meek and you feel penitent and guilt-ridden for days. But for all I felt, I could have easily just have been checking the post or doing laundry as have killed a man. It's very unnerving. I'm not even curious as to who he was, if he had a family, none of that. It's like he wasn't even real to me."

Dalika paused, a worried look on her face. Shaking her head, she drew the needle through a final time, stretching the thread out and snapping one end, tying a knot.

"Well, there's still no harm in knowing." She got up, going over to sit on one of the cots. "He was a spy. A mercenary, sent from Raiaera. Not official military of course, but hired from the outside to distance themselves from him. It's just a shame that whomever he was working with got away with the plans."

William stretched as he stood, groaning as he looked back at his shoulder. He nodded, pleased with the stitching job, before leaning forward and hacking loudly. He began to dry heave for a few seconds as the drow girl looked on with concern.

"I... wouldn't... worry..." he sputtered between heaves before a loud, phlegm-ladden wretching sound sent a bulge up his throat and a huge wad of paper dropping to the floor, "... about that. That old copy is for zeppelins Alerar was making ten years ago; the bloody thing probably didn't even work anyways."

Dalika stood from the cot with astonishment.

"You mean... it was a fake? That the real plans..."

"Haven't even been done yet. I swallowed the real parchment before the conference even began. I was going to use a few rough sketches and whatnot to transcribe after we were done."

William grinned, smoothing out the damp paper atop the drawing desk.

"And- with your notes and if this ink is as waterproof as I was told- I'll get to do just that: Transcribe everything and draft it before my meeting with Herzog Kresk tomorrow."

Dalika grinned slyly at the clever goat, walking over to him.

"Anything I can do?"

"Other than get me another glass of wine?" He said with a coy grin. "Aye. You can go get some rest. You've been a lifesaver today with your notes, and you've worked harder than any of the people who were really supposed to be pouring everything into this. Myself included."

She knew better than to argue. She poured the glass of wine and then went back to the cot, laying with her back to William. He was going to be hard at work drafting and drawing for the next few hours, while she would lay there; eyes shut, pretending to sleep with a fluttering in her stomach that would not go away until after even he had gone to bed.