Allies of the Future - 03

Their Journey continued as they reached the Varkaine County, even though the county was just stabilizing from the crumbling debt, its infrastructure had grown tenfold, streets, houses, shops... everything was renovated and build anew. The Varkaine county which was like a ghost town had now changed into a charming place even rivaling, the aesthetics of the Joshua Estate.

The southern ridge of Varkaine County was a scarred titan, its slopes gouged by decades of pickaxes and ambition. Kairus reined his horse to a halt at the crest, the wind carrying the metallic tang of Valatium and the rhythmic clang of hammers below. Beside him, Liam Remes squinted at the valley, his ash-blond hair whipping like a battle standard. 

"Charming..," Liam drawled, gesturing to the labyrinth of rope bridges and smoking pits below. "Does your miners also sharpen sticks for weapons, or is that a regional aesthetic?" 

Kairus ignored him, eyes tracing the familiar chaos. In his past life, this mine had been a graveyard—collapsed tunnels, workers coughing up Valatium-laced blood. Now, braziers burned with steady blue flames, their light catching on the cerulean veins spiderwebbing the cliffs. *Better,* he thought. *Not perfect, but better.* 

As they descended, a child hauling a water bucket spotted Kairus and screamed, "Lord Kairus!" The cry rippled through the camp like wildfire. Miners emerged from shafts, blackened faces splitting into grins. A woman with iron-gray hair and arms thick as timber beams barreled toward them, wiping soot on her apron. 

"Took you long enough, boy!" She crushed Kairus in a hug that lifted his boots off the ground. "Bren's been holding the cracks together with spit and prayers!" 

Liam sidestepped a trio of giggling children offering him wildflowers. "Are they... smiling at me?" he muttered, clutching his satchel like a shield. 

"Don't flatter yourself," Kairus said, extracting himself from Mara's grip. "They're smiling because you're new. Novelty wears off fast here." 

But it didn't. A teenage apprentice pressed a still-warm honey bun into Liam's hands, bowing so low his nose brushed dirt. A grizzled smelter offered to bless his robes with "Varkaine's luck"—a dubious honor involving goat blood and Valatium dust. By the time they reached the central forge, Liam's shoulders hunched like a cat in a thunderstorm. 

"Stop scowling," Kairus said, tossing him a pair of char-resistant gloves. "They think you're some delicate mage princeling. Enjoy it while it lasts." 

The smelting pit was a dragon's maw—a circular chasm where raw Valatium glowed molten gold at its core. Workers cranked bellows as wide as wagon wheels, their rhythm synced to Mara's bellowed curses. 

"Your setup's a death trap," Liam said, eyeing the unstable runes etched around the pit. "One misfire and this whole valley becomes a crater." 

"Then fix it." Kairus unrolled a map across an anvil pockmarked by centuries of use. "And keep your adjustments subtle. These people respect tradition more than logic." 

Liam opened his mouth, likely to argue, but a sudden *crack* silenced him. A vein of Valatium in the northern cliff flared brighter, its light pulsing in time with the bellows. 

There. Kairus stabbed a finger at the map. "Shift Team Three to the eastern shaft. There's a secondary deposit twenty paces down, behind the quartz seam." 

Mara squinted. "Quartz? That's solid rock, Lord Heir." 

"Was solid rock." Kairus grabbed a pickaxe and strode toward the cliff. "Until yesterday." 

He swung. The quartz shattered like glass, revealing a fissure throbbing with Valatium. The miners erupted in cheers. 

Liam stared. "How did you—" 

"Lucky guess." Kairus tossed him the pickaxe. "Your turn. The smelting runes are overheating." 

Liam worked in furious silence, redrawing runes with a stylus dipped in liquid silver. Kairus watched from the shadows, noting how the mage's hands trembled—not from fear, but from the strain of restraint. 

"You're overcomplicating it," Kairus said finally. "Valatium responds to intent, not equations." 

"Spoken like someone who's never channeled raw mana," Liam snapped. A rune flared crimson, and the forge's flames surged dangerously. 

Kairus grabbed his wrist. "You're aligning to the solar arc. This close to Valatium, you need lunar resonance." He guided Liam's hand, adjusting the angle. "And breathe. Fire's a living thing here." 

The flames steadied, shifting from violent orange to a deep, hungry blue. 

Liam yanked free. "Since when did you study thaumaturgical theory?" 

Kairus nodded to the workers now feeding ore into the stabilized forge. "They'll get five more tons a day with this. Not bad, Remes." 

"Not bad?" Liam's laugh was sharp, but his eyes lingered on the efficient flames. "...It's adequate." 

By nightfall, the camp buzzed with alien warmth—laughter around cookfires, a lullaby hummed by the ore sorters. Liam stood apart, as always, tracing the cursed shard the toddler had given him. 

Kairus found him atop a supply cart, staring at the stars. "They'll keep bringing you rocks if you keep looking so broody." 

"Your people are fools," Liam said quietly. "They trust too easily." 

"Funny. They say the same about me." Kairus leaned against the cart, watching a group of children chase fireflies. "You're thinking of the Remes estate." 

Liam stiffened. "Thinking that this—" He gestured to a woman sharing her bread with an apprentice, "—is a lie. A performance." 

"Or a choice." Kairus plucked the Valatium shard from his hand. "My father taught me something. 'Even shadows need light to exist.'" He tossed the shard into the forge, where it dissolved into the molten glow. "This place isn't kind despite its scars. It's kind because of them." 

Liam said nothing. But when Kairus turned to leave, he muttered, "You sound like a mediocre poet." 

"Probably." Kairus hid a smile. "But I knew where to dig." 

[System Alert: Valatium Production – 8.6 tons remaining]