The fourth warehouse was an imposing structure on the edge of the city, overlooking a quiet expanse of the western wildlands. Its vast space gaped open like the mouth of a cavern as the heavy doors were rolled aside; inside, the potential for grand-scale work was immediately apparent.
"This looks perfect," I said, striding into the echoing interior with Marcella following close behind. The sense of urgency had woven itself into my steps, charging each one with purpose.
Marcella agreed, her eyes scanning the high vaulted ceilings and the spacious floor. "You could fit siege engines in here, let alone the Divinatech crafts you've planned."
"Exactly," I said, turning to face her, my voice calmer now that a crucial piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. "I need to start right away. There's not a moment to lose."
Marcella nodded, but there was wavering in her demeanor, the gravity of our situation sinking in. "Gideon," she started, her voice halting slightly, "please be careful. The plans you have, the things you want to create—they're brilliant, but... dangerous."
I took her hands in mine, feeling the calloused skin of a craftsman against the smoothness of her own. "I will be," I assured her, "I may only look small, but I think that I am the only person that has the potential to change things."
The resolve in my voice swayed Marcella's trepidation, infusing her with confidence in my abilities.
"I know," she acknowledged. "It's just hard not to worry. You carry the weight of so much on your shoulders."
I squeezed her hands gently. "I don't carry it alone. I have you, and our allies, and the people of this kingdom who are all striving for the same end. We'll face this war together."
With a final nod of solidarity, we released each other's hands. I watched as Marcella composed herself, the noble diplomat returning to the forefront as she prepared to do her part in this unfolding drama.
"Then let's begin. I'll handle things at the palace while you work here," Marcella said with newfound determination. "Keep me informed, and if you need anything—anything at all—you have only to send word."
"I will," I promised.
With that, Marcella departed, leaving me in the silence of the warehouse. The space seemed to await my command, ready to be filled with the symphony of hammers, the hiss of steam, and the sizzle of enchantments. I envisioned the defenses I would create, barriers of energy humming with power and automatons standing sentinel over the city's walls.
Or, that was what I wanted to do, but I was still wrapping my head around the basics. I had only been in this field for a day now, but I didn't have the luxury of taking my time. I also couldn't blunder through this, or like Kuka said, I could blow myself up like many had before.
With that in mind, I created a quick list of things that I would need from what I had read to get started. After handing the list to the servant and he was out of sight, I called out.
"I know you are out there. You can come out now," I called to Daelen, who had been following me and Marcella from a distance all day.
A shadow detached itself from the corner of the warehouse, and Daelen stepped out into the dim light filtering through the high windows. His typically veiny appearance was marred by a tension that pulled at the corners of his beady eyes.
"You certainly have a talent for noticing the unnoticed," Daelen said smoothly, though there was an undercurrent of frustration in his tone. "I suppose it's good for a future king to be aware of his surroundings."
I shrugged slightly. "Right now, I'm more interested in being aware of the present threats than in any potential future. Speaking of which, why were you lurking in the shadows?"
Daelen approached, his gaze flickering over the expanse of the warehouse. "I wanted to make sure you weren't being followed," he explained. "And it seems I have more reason to worry than I thought. It's not just your father that's acting erratically. There have been... stirrings. Rumors of creatures and beings that should not be, just like Shigora."
I frowned, absorbing this new information. "Stirrings," I echoed. "Anything more concrete?" I asked, feeling my frustrations bubble up. I did not need any more problems at this point!
Daelen hesitated, the lines on his face deepening. "Whispers about shadows moving on their own, specters seen in places long forgotten. It's as though the fabric between worlds is wearing thin. I'd take those tales more seriously considering your recent... encounters."
Specters. Shadows. Unseen forces at play while a war loomed—this only added to the complexities we were facing. I rubbed my chin, considering the implications. Every piece of knowledge or myth could be a clue or a piece of a puzzle I was still trying to understand.
"Keep your ears open, then," I said, casting a glance over the warehouse. "The more we know about what's happening, the better we can prepare. For now, I need to focus on strengthening Jagar's defenses and creating whatever advantage I can muster through Divinatech."
Daelen nodded. "Understood. I'll return to the shadows. Contact me when you need me."
I put up my hand before he could leave. "One more thing. Your... power. The one where you take life force. How does that work exactly?" I asked, but then added. "You know that I am not as young as I seem, and I am curious to know if you might know of a way that could, possibly age me, but also allow me to return to this age."
Daelen gave me a curious look. "Why would you want to return to this small form?"
"Because it is unassuming, and I can keep working in the shadows in that form while being a full-grown prince in the eyes of everyone else," I explained, and Daelen nodded, putting his thumb to his chin.
"That might be possible, but I would have to be gone for 5 days, possibly 6," Daelen replied, and I felt a surge of excitement. Only 6 days?!
"If you can get it back to me in 6 days or less before I leave, I will promise you my word as a prince that I will find a home for your people. They still have to follow my rules, but I will figure out how to feed you all if you can do this for me," I swore, trying to contain my excitement.
For more than 8 years I was stuck as a child. I had almost thought that I might be forced to relive another pre-adult lifetime. Honestly, if things were different and my wife-to-be wasn't 14 years older than me, I might just want to live it normally. Sadly, war was here, and my fiancé wasn't getting any younger.
Daelen's eyes narrowed as he weighed the offer. "Your word as a prince is a valuable thing indeed," he said slowly. "Very well. I accept. I will return before six days have passed with an answer for you—one way or the other."
"Thank you," I said, the gravity of the situation settling upon me once again. "In the meantime, I will continue with my work here. Be careful, Daelen."
He gave a slight nod before melting back into the shadows, becoming one with the gloom of the warehouse once more. Alone now, I stared at the vast emptiness around me, the echoes of our conversation fading into the still air.
The chance to change my form, to become an adult and still retain the ability to return to this less conspicuous body, was a game-changer. But there was so much to do in the meantime, and I couldn't allow myself to be distracted by what might be.