True to her word, Isadora showed Devvyn around the estate, starting with the hallway.
"That's Lord Cedric Pyrethorn, first of his name," she gestured to the first painting, "the founder of House Pyrethorn and general of Stormspire legion during the Remnant Wars. He's the one who designed our crest. He's my favourite." She smiled. "Mostly because he loved building stuff too. I have some of his parchments with sketches of things he planned to build in Sinai. They're kind of outdated, seeing as those things exist now but I still take inspiration from his designs. He was a visionary. He would have changed Sinai."
"If the Remnant hadn't stuck its claw in him."
"Yeah." Isadora laughed then stopped abruptly as if she was surprised she found what he said funny. "You know about my family history?"
"First thing they teach at basic school. Might not have gone to your snobby Upper City school, but I do have a proper education." Devvyn answered, looking at the painting—a tall man with silver pauldrons and a sword planted in the ground before him. His stance was rigid, but there was fire in his eyes, the same kind Isadora had when she wasn't being snide. "My grandmother has copies of his parchments, too."
"Oh." Isadora said. "She's into tech too?"
"Yep. Designed Sinai's railway system. The irrigation system for the Golden Fields. The A1 and A2 airships for our military," Devvyn counted off his fingers, "she's also done stuff for other holdings in Thaloria. Lothara's city grids. The house heating pads for Baridi. She's avoided Redemere and their pirates but she probably built something for Baridi right before she retired."
"Wait," Isadora raised her hand in his face, "your grandmother is Maelis Arkwright?"
"Yep."
"The Maelis Arkwright?"
"The one and only." Devvyn smirked.
Isadora tilted her head at him, "lucky you." She said, "I have books on every single thing she's built. She's kind of my role model. I wrote a letter to her once asking if I could be her apprentice." Isadora blushed. "She never responded so I settled with devouring any book or parchment of hers I could find."
"She's quite…introverted. Don't take it to heart." Devvyn said.
"Hmph. I get it now. How you were able to build your Echo Locator."
Devvyn raised an eyebrow. "You really believe someone from the Lower City couldn't?"
She shrugged. "It's just facts." Already walking to the next picture.
"Whatever," Devvyn said.
"This is Virelle Pyrethorn. She's the reason Eternis has its current city planning. She restructured the Eternis, The Golden Fields and The Lower City to reduce flooding, improve trade flow, and… well, people don't give her credit because she wasn't a warrior like the rest of the founding Pyrethorns. But without her, all three cities would have drowned decades ago in water from the Azure Shores." In the portrait, a woman in emerald robes held a scroll and stood before a vast map.
Devvyn blinked. They hadn't received any lessons on her in school. "She kind of looks like you."
"Everyone says that," Isadora said softly. "I used to pretend I was her when I was younger. Drawing maps, planning routes, even pretending to lead recon teams through the gardens. In fact I'm currently working on…" She stopped, as if catching herself being too open. Her expression shuddered. "Anyway, come on."
She took him to the next picture, then the next, then the next, past her father's portrait and then to her mother's. She was going to skip both of them but Devvyn stopped at her mother's picture. It was like staring at an older Isadora. Her mother's eyes had a cold wisdom to them with thin lines around her mouth that made her look stern.
"Elise Pyrethorn," Isadora started, "daughter of Ragnise the Second, Leader of the Ascendants faction. Smart straight-A student, extremely skilled in negotiations. Worked her way up the ranks and into highborn society. Married into the Pyrethorn family. She's the brains where my father is the brawn. They fit perfectly together." Her tone was dry, and Devvyn picked up that she didn't care much for her mother. She wasn't looking at her with as much admiration as she had when they passed Calder Pyrethorn's portrait.
Isadora continued. "She would have been here today. Lord Pyrethorn wanted her here for the picture but she had something urgent to handle in Lothara."
"Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say so he shifted the conversation back to her ancestors. "You're really passionate about this stuff. Your legacy. I can barely remember my parent's names on some days." Devvyn laughed.
Isadora turned slightly, her face unreadable. "Of course I do. I know every name, every battle, every choice they made. These are the people I have to measure up to. The people I have to surpass."
There was weight in her voice now—not arrogance, but pressure. Devvyn watched her for a beat before saying. "Yeah, that sounds really exhausting."
"It is." Then, just like that, she started walking again.
Devvyn followed silently. A part of him felt sorry for her. He wondered what it was to carry the weight of being your family's successor on your shoulders, always seeking your father's validation, always needing to come out on top. It explained why she was like that at the festival, why she always had a scathing reply on hand. It doesn't justify it, though. A voice that sounded like Aela's said in Devvyn's head. It didn't, but Devvyn could relate to being held to higher standards than everyone else.
"You know, you're not very horrible when you're talking about your family. Extend that to other conversations and you'll probably have more friends."
"I don't need friends," Isadora said. "But you're not so bad either."
"You're only saying that because of my grandmother."
"You caught me." Isadora smiled. It wasn't the practised short-lipped smile she always gave but one that stretched across her face, revealing perfect white teeth.
Devvyn's heart pounded faster. She was beautiful—absolutely beautiful—the kind of beauty that caught a person off guard, like stepping into sunlight after days of being underground.
"Alright. Next up, the library." Isadora said.
"Huh," Devvyn stuttered and looked around. He hadn't realised they'd entered another room. He reluctantly shifted his gaze from her face to the library. Towering shelves stretched all the way to a domed ceiling painted with constellations, images of the Primordials, and Valorians. A spiral staircase of black iron curled up to a second level of book-lined balconies, and tall arched windows let golden light spill into the room. Dust motes danced in the beams.
"Welcome to my second favourite place in the estate." She skirted around carved busts of Pyrethorns encased in glass. "I've read every single thing in this section." She pointed to the section label Art of War.
Devvyn counted ten books in one row and fifty rows up to the ceiling. That was at least five hundred books. "On war?"
"Yeah. Negotiation, manipulation, battlefield strategies, fighting stances, all of that nonsense that would be unnecessary if people just sat down and talked things out. I'm not into it, but Lord Pyrethorn ensured I was trained in every aspect of being a highborn, including battle."
"Wait—you know how to fight?"
"I train with the Bloodbound Captain, sworn to my family. My father wanted a son as heir but he got me and no other children. He intends to make a man out of me." Isadora rolled her eyes as she faked quotes with her fingers.
She moved on, gesturing toward another set of shelves. "That's the political archive—dull but useful. Treaties, House charters, trade records, border disputes. Father lives in this section."
"Yeah, sounds like a party," Devvyn muttered. Isadora chuckled.
Then she turned toward a darker alcove tucked between two shelves, where the light dimmed and the air smelled faintly of ink and parchment. "This section belongs to my mother. She goes to great lengths to acquire rare books. Books written by Valorians before they went into their forever slumber. There's one by that weirdo over at the Glass Wastes, Orran the Silent or whatever. I tried reading it one day, but it's full of gibberish. My mother's currently trying to commission one from Ialthea Embercrest, get her to write down all the stories she tells."
"Lady Pyrethorn must really love reading…" Devvyn said.
"Oh she never reads them. Just likes to collect." Isadora clasped her hands, "this is getting boring. I'm currently working on a project for my father. Would you like to see? I don't mind getting your opinion on it."
"Um. Sure?" Devvyn said. She was acting weird. Not weird… Friendly and he wasn't sure how to react or what to say.
She strode back through the library, leading him through the quiet halls of the estate. They exited through a side door, stepping into the crisp afternoon air. The sunlight was warmer now as evening slowly fell. It cast long shadows from the trees and plants on the manicured lawn. Off to the side of the main house stood a smaller stone building. It had ivy creeping up its walls and smoke lazily curling from a vent in the tiled roof. It was tucked behind a hedge of lavender and flame roses, secluded.
"Lord Pyrethorn had it built for me on my thirteenth birthday after I set my room on fire." Isadora pushed open the wooden door, revealing a neat workshop that smelled of mana, metal and wax. Tools hung in perfect rows on the wall, and shelves lined with vials and boxes were in the left corner. It was twice the size of Maelis's workshop and twice as organised.
She strode back through the library, leading him through the quiet halls of the estate. They exited through a side door, stepping into the crisp afternoon air. The sunlight was warmer now as evening slowly fell. It cast long shadows from the trees and plants on the manicured lawn. Off to the side of the main house stood a smaller stone building. It had ivy creeping up its walls and smoke lazily curling from a vent in the tiled roof. It was tucked behind a hedge of lavender and flame roses, secluded.
"Lord Pyrethorn had this built for me on my thirteenth birthday," Isadora said as she pushed open the wooden door. "After I set my room on fire."
The workshop smelled of mana, metal, and wax. Tools hung in perfect rows on the walls. Shelves were neatly stocked with vials and labelled boxes. It was twice the size of Maelis's workshop—and twice as tidy.
Devvyn ran a finger along the polished surface of a table. "You know, maybe I'll talk to my grandmother about you being her apprentice. She'd love how spotless you keep your space."
"I would love that."
He wanted to look around more but Isadora dragged him to another table. She whisked a cloth off a structure beneath. It was a mini mana extraction site. He'd seen enough at the Lower City to recognise one—leaky, patched-together, barely functioning. But this one was perfect. Efficient. Clean. Compact. Devvyn examined the construction. She'd arranged miniature insulated containers for holding mana by the right end of the site, beside them were trucks. "I made it this way so once the mana goes in the containers, it goes in the truck. Rather than the workers spilling mana all over the field just to get it to the truck locations." Isadora explained.
"That makes sense." Devvyn nodded. He leaned closer to the field itself. The pipelines from the mana wells were neatly routed—each to its own container, no overlaps, no tangles. Wide gaps between lines made it easy for workers to move. Such a small change from the current system. But it made a huge difference.
"This is actually really impressive, Isadora. How long have you been working on it?"
"Hmm. Two months give or take. Lord Pyrethorn discovered that one of the areas he owns in the Lower City has mana. We lost a lot of mana at the last site, so I thought to do this before extraction starts. I plan to show him today."
Devvyn wondered what area. The parts of the Lower City with mana were wastelands, sucked dry by the Highlords. He doubted there was enough mana to be extracted anymore. "What—" He wanted to ask what where but Isadora interrupted him.
"I was thinking after the competition of building something like your Locator but for mana. Instead of wasting time and money digging in the wrong spot, we could locate a mana well before they even bring machinery on the site. We can work on it together if you want."
"What?" Devvyn breathed.
"Yeah." Isadora grinned. "We have our differences but I think we'll work great together. I could get my father to give you a room here until we're done. We could even pay you for your work. What do you think?"
"I… Well… I…"He wasn't sure if he should confess that he hadn't built the Locator on his own. But then… he imagined waking up each day in the Pyrethorn estate. Servants at his beck and call. Meals like the one they'd had today. Soft beds. Clean clothes. The answer came easily.
"Yes."
A twinge of guilt pricked at him. How would Maelis feel if she knew he'd agreed to work on something with Isadora? But he brushed it away. His luck was finally turning around. He could feel it. If he negotiated well, they might pay him enough to buy an Echo. Maybe even more. He wanted to run home right then and tell Aela and Jelric. The Primodirals bless the moment he'd decided to save Calder Pyrethorn.
"Great." Isadora clapped. "We can start today. I'll get someone to bring the things you need from home. Make a list."
She moved around the workshop, rearranging tools on another table with practised ease. "We can draw up plans tonight. Tomorrow, official work begins. We'll probably need the Locator too."
"Wait. Why?" Devvyn asked.
"It's essentially our blueprint, isn't it?" she replied, as if it were obvious. "Keep up, Devvyn."
There it was again. That shift. Condescending, highborn Isadora. Devvyn swallowed his irritation. "Okay. I'll see what I can do. But what part of the Lower City are we looking at? You might need to adjust the current construction based on the area's layout."
"We," she corrected, not missing a beat. "We might need to do that." She pointed to a large map pinned on the wall. "The pinned areas."
Devvyn walked up to it. The first pin marked the Night Market. Then a wide radius that spread around it. "Rindown Street," he murmured, eyes scanning the following markers. Wait. That was where Irric the Butcher lived. The next area was where Jelric stayed. His heart dropped. Off to the side—another pin. His home. And Aela's. And beyond that…
"That's my home," Devvyn breathed.
"What?" Isadora asked, distracted as she lined up a ruler on the table.
He turned to her, voice firmer now. "That's my home. And my friends'. That's where Jelric lives. And Aela. And dozens of others. You can't just—"
"Oh. We'll give you all enough time to move first." She said.
Devvyn scoffed. He couldn't believe his ears. "You'll give us time to move? Time? Who are you to give us time?"
Isadora's eyes narrowed. "Not me. Lord Pyrethorn. It's his land."
"It's our home!" Devvyn yelled. He tore the map away from the wall and bunched it up.
"What do you think you're doing? We need that for the project."
"You really think I'll work with you on something that's going to make me homeless? My grandmother spent years building our home, Isadora. It's all we have. I know everything comes easily to you. You've never had to struggle a day in your life but this is people's lives you're talking about! Where do you want us to go?"
Isadora flinched, visibly surprised. She jabbed her finger toward him. "Don't you ever say I haven't struggled. You don't know me." She snatched the map from his hands. "Besides," she added coldly, "you didn't have a problem with it until you knew it affected you."
"That's not…" Devvyn started. But the words stuck in his throat. She was right. He hadn't cared until he saw the map. He'd been more focused on living her life. "I'm leaving."
"Oh, come on. Don't be a child." Isadora laughed.
"I said I'm leaving." Devvyn gritted.
"Fine. Scurry back to your Lower City. I can't take you back to the gate. I've got better things to do with my time. Ask one of the servants or guards you see outside for directions." She sat at her table and started tinkering with the construction site. She didn't look up as the door shut. But when the workshop fell silent again, Isadora's hands trembled against a copper tubing.
