Miles

Wilderness outside of Frostheim

It felt like a decade had passed since the first time he had made the journey to Frostheim, but it had only been a few years. If that, really. His life had changed so much in such a short time, for good and bad, that it was hard to truly grasp the extent of the pendulum's swing.

From living in Toronto, to coming back to it destroyed, to living in the ruins after the Change, then gathering every possession in his life and making the trip to a city he had only heard about in whispers. The journey back then on the back of a stranger's cart was equal parts hopeful and dreadful. He wasn't sure what kind of city he would be walking into. Would it be ruled by the same people he had come to know and hate that carved up his home, or would it be different?

Thankfully, it was so far from his worst nightmares that it still didn't feel real sometimes. But here he was, traveling at the head of a procession in a place of leadership, for people who acknowledged him.

The trip from Emberhold to Frostheim was only a touch shorter than his original trip.

His time in Emberhold wasn't all that fun, if he was being honest. Sure, he got to explore a new city and see the waves crash on the beachfront, but outside of that, it was all work and no fun. Emberhold lacked the advancements that Frostheim had, and his presence was necessary to remedy that. Electricity, magi-tech appliances, quality of life improvements.

Ovens and iceboxes that ran on mana, rather than electricity. Dryers and enchanted wash bins that cut the time spent cleaning clothes by orders of magnitude compared to handwashing.

It felt good to bring back that level of comfort, but Emberhold didn't feel like home. Not like Frostheim did.

And that was revealing in it and of itself.

Home.

He hadn't really known when that small comfort had returned. There were times, mainly when he was at his lowest, that he feared that the sensation would never return. That his one and only home had been destroyed, and he'd never feel it once again.

But he was wrong. He wasn't sure when, exactly, that the freezing, snow-filled, winterscape eight months out of the year known as Frostheim became home, but it had.

Miles sat on the cart and gazed at the horizon in anticipation as the walls finally came into view. The weeks in the wilderness were finally over, as they would be at the gates in a scant few hours.

The walls that had once awed him utterly were even more marvelous than the last time he had entered. Miles had even helped build them, but they still held a different air that made them stand out.

The Spirit in them glowed to his now widened senses. A sense he had been lacking the first time he had made the trip. Back then, they gave off the impression of being impenetrable, without a reason other than the helpless feeling that overcame him when he thought of attacking them.

Now, he knew more, and that worked against him, rather than for him.

Knowing more meant he understood what had gone into their construction. He understood the extent of the resources, wealth, and energy involved in their construction.

The sheer scale of both the physical might they stood emboldened with, and the might of the Wards running through them.

Miles had been a part of their making, if the small help he had been could be considered. Christopher had kept their design close to the chest, and Miles had only been asked for his expertise on a scant few occasions.

The Walls themselves, other than being nearly double the height and width compared to their previous silhouette, encapsulated much more land inside the city.

They had been moved outward to allow for further growth, while also keeping the entire city within them. He remembered some arguments at the time about that, but they hadn't amounted to much.

Entering through the large gate held the same sense of awe and wonder as the first, except there was just so much more. More buildings, more traffic, more people, more stores, more roads, more everything.

Seeing the Inner Wall from the Outer Gates was now impossible, with row upon row of buildings getting in the way. The only way to glimpse the even taller wall was to rise to a higher vantage point. From where he was on the ground, it was impossible.

The ring nearest the wall was all newer construction. It didn't have any of the marks he had grown used to and come to enjoy. There wasn't any mixture of building styles or materials. No explicit signs of the advancements they had made. The one that stuck out the most was the lamp posts. The older part of the city still had his first iterations, which were clunky, shoddy messes that relied on electricity. They were a product of his first experiments, before he had advanced his craft enough.

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There were times he passed them by and felt embarrassed, but he mainly felt proud to have moved past them. Onto bigger and better things.

Moving further in, toward where his residence lay, he passed by the ring where the previous wall stood. It had been torn down, but the ring was still visible if you knew where to look.

Phillip had done an admirable job of filling it in, so good that newcomers didn't even know there had been a wall there in the first place. Older citizens weren't so easily fooled, and they could see the signs that couldn't be hidden so easily. A rather large one was the sheer difference between outside and inside the phantom ring. The builders had gotten better and leveled higher, making their work easier to spot outside the ring.

Inside the ring still had works from Builders, Architects, and Masons that were just then breaking through the E-rank barrier. Not at all like some of the D-rank work the newest construction had. Even though the inner city was older, not as well built, and otherwise had the telltale signs of age, it was much harder to get any land inside of it. The market was there, the best shops were there, the Emporium was there, and the Castle was there.

The shops for some of the best craftsmen in the city, Miles included, were on the same block as the Emporium itself, right outside the Inner Gate and in Market Square.

There was also the prestige factor to consider.

As Miles traveled through the streets, he couldn't help but take it all in with a sense of wonder. There was one rather noticeable thing missing, compared to when he left. The faint pressure in the air, the constant and persistent presence that had always been there, was missing. Christopher wasn't in the city. He had gone off to the North, to do whatever it was he had planned. There had been a presence missing in Emberhold as well, as Rachel had gone South for a different reason.

It wasn't the first time that Christopher had left the city, but it would be the longest. If the rumors were true, he didn't plan on coming back anytime soon, aiming to breach the Arctic Circle and go further than he had last time.

The man was crazy, in his opinion. The rare tales Gavin told in the tavern of the Northern Wastes painted in such a light that Miles never wanted to visit, and not because of his dislike for the cold.

What little Gavin told of the beasts and monsters that roamed up there was enough.

His friend told of bears that were over 20 feet tall with roars that could knock you out. Of packs of wolves over a hundred strong that could clean a carcass to its bones in minutes. Of moose, elk, and reindeer that could match a mage spell for spell, and a warrior blow for blow. Of giant eagles that could swoop down and carry off the unprepared and of massive snow owls that could dive silently and pierce your skull before you even knew they were there.

Miles had known Gavin long enough to know that some of his stories had been stretching the truth, but not by that much. If he spoke of 20-foot bears that could knock a man unconscious with a roar, Miles didn't want to ever encounter whatever kernel of truth had birthed the story.

Maybe I'll ask Chris. He'll tell it to me straight. It wasn't like he had a lot of facetime with the man, but he saw him on occasion. He was technically the Faction's Head Artificer, even if that title didn't actually exist.

On second thought, do I really want to know? What if he came back with stories even worse than the ones that Gavin told? Miles wouldn't know what to do then. He wasn't keen to go adventuring out there from just what Gavin said, if Chris came back and spoke of something worse...

Knowing the man, Miles knew it would be true...

No, that was nightmare fuel he could do without. He'd stick to the dungeons, where there wasn't the chance of running into anything of the sort. It was safer that way.

He hopped off the cart near enough to his street that it was only a quick walk away. The driver would continue to his warehouse to drop off their goods without him; Miles wasn't needed for that part.

No one would rob the man inside the city. Not if they cared for having both hands. With the Hounds always looking for opportunities to train, even the most skilled thief would be tracked and found within hours.

As Miles neared home, his mind looked ahead and wondered what his next project would be. He had spent a long while refining his mana turbine into something usable. He'd also taken it a step further and started working on appliances that could run on mana alone, but he wasn't sure where he wanted to go from there.

There were rumors of cars making a comeback in the South, but he wasn't sure how feasible those were. Sarah's horses could go fast on their own, and they already couldn't go their top speed without the rider's teeth clattering out. A transportation overhaul of roads would need to happen before cars could even think about being used, and even then, Miles wasn't sure they ever would.

He could spend months designing, inventing, and creating a new model, only for Sarah to have a lucky mare that could outpace it in a few years. Or a different breed that could do the same.

No, as sad as he was to admit, cars wouldn't be his next project.

Guns?

Ha! Miles laughed. Even a 50 caliber wouldn't do that much damage against some of the monsters they faced, let alone some of the people. Miles imagined what kind of caliber would be required to damage the Viscount. A large one, if any existed large enough. Fortitude made small-caliber rifles and handguns all but useless. Sure, artillery would probably still be useful, but for how long? Until the next rank? Not even that long?

No, guns faced the same problem cars did: they weren't sustainable. Sure, he could maybe create something worth making, but it would only take a few years for it to become obsolete.

If Miles wanted to use his affinity to the fullest, there was one thing that came to mind, but it would have been better to stay in Emberhold for it rather than return to Frostheim. Ships were made of wood, now. With some types even reaching the hardness of regular steel.

But, he wasn't all that interested in the nautical side of things.

Making ships to sail the Lake might be intriguing, and it would use his Wood affinity well, but it didn't seem all that fun. His next project was something he got to choose, and he didn't want to waste his choice on a ship.

He didn't know when he would be tasked with something urgent, and he wanted to spend his time wisely.

No guns, no cars, and no ships...

An idea sparked. One that instantly caught fertile ground in his head and started sprouting. One that brought a smile to his face.

Flight.

It had the same issue as the rest of the ideas he churned around, but there was a difference with this one.

Flight was cool. Cool enough to disregard the negative thoughts that said aerial mounts would work better and that he was wasting his time.

It was his time to waste, and he wanted to make a plane.

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