Two months passed in a blur of innovation, tension, and subtle warfare. For Elara Wyrmshade, the rhythm of her days had become a delicate dance between brilliant breakthroughs in her R&D compound and the political storm that raged around her name.
Every morning began with a stack of invitations and political proposals stacked on her desk, carefully filtered by her aides but nonetheless exhausting. It was as though the world had discovered that she was not just a genius, but a prize—one to be claimed for status, power, or alliances. The sheer volume of proposals reached absurd levels. Dukes and nobles, emissaries and scholars, princes and foreign lords—all sent letters or messengers, many offering marriage, others proposing joint ventures that reeked of thinly veiled attempts to gain control over her intellectual property.
Worse still, this political contamination began to seep into the lives of those closest to her.
Lyria received an invitation to a "diplomatic gala" that turned out to be a matchmaking event hosted by a minor noble house. She returned fuming, and Elara had to restrain Kael from razing their estate.
Kael, on the other hand, didn't need restraint so much as surveillance. More than one bold suitor had attempted to impress or seduce her—some through flattery, others through displays of strength. At least three now occupied permanent hospital beds, their injuries severe. One had nearly died. Kael made no excuses.
"They challenged me," she would say with a shrug. "They lost."
Word spread quickly, and soon no one dared approach her without Elara's explicit permission.
Despite the chaos, Elara had never been more productive. Her laboratory compound outside the capital—built near the massive Forge now co-managed with the dwarf master-smith Darnak Ironflame—had become a center of world-altering innovation.
The first breakthrough came in the form of a runic crane: a towering metal structure powered by coordinated runes and pulleys. It could lift entire stone walls into place with one operator and a single mana stream. The construction industry was changed overnight.
Next came Elara's answer to medieval building inefficiencies: a form of concrete reinforced with iron bars—"rebar," as she called it. Her version, inspired by ancient knowledge, allowed walls, roads, and buildings to be erected ten times faster and a hundred times stronger than with traditional brickwork.
The king himself purchased the exclusive rights to this construction method for public works. Within days, renovation projects across major cities began. The old outer walls of the capital, once considered unbreachable, were now obsolete.
Then came the refinement of the Forge.
Darnak had grumbled about "surface dwellers and their lazy ways" but when Elara showed him the blueprints for the precision-based 3D casting mechanism, his eyes gleamed. The concept was deceptively simple: Metal was fed into a mana-controlled chamber, where a series of levers, runic nozzles, and layered sequences allowed even complex components to be "printed" with uncanny precision.
The innovation allowed runes to be embedded inside the material. No etching or engraving needed.
Weapons, armor, machinery—all became exponentially more efficient.
Her runic printer also received an overhaul. Now able to engrave at font size 2, on any material, regardless of hardness or durability, it opened the door for compact, layered arrays that had once been impossible.
Her engineers practically worshipped her.
The nobility, however, grew increasingly divided. Some were thrilled by the surge in economic growth. Others feared it. And beyond Aldemar's borders, that fear had already turned to action.
It was late one evening when Elara, alone in her lab office, received her weekly political update from Tolan.
She expected another report about rising tension, another graph showing troop movements on distant borders.
Instead, Tolan looked grim.
"It has begun," he said.
The words chilled the room.
He placed a map on her desk. Two cities—Lurendal and Brysten—were marked in red.
"Taken within the last week. The enemy had a numerical advantage of nearly one hundred to one."
Elara went silent.
Her hands tightened into fists.
"This wasn't a surprise," Tolan added quickly. "We anticipated their opening offensive. The next phase of their advance targets Highpass Bastion. It's a fortified mountain city—well-equipped, supplied, and reinforced with both traditional forces and your tech."
"And if they break through?"
Tolan shook his head. "They won't."
Elara didn't respond right away. She stood, staring at the map. A knot twisted in her chest. She'd spent her life building, innovating, trying to create. And now the world had responded with destruction.
"I want to help," she said, turning to him. "Give me a way to contribute."
"Your contributions are already changing the tide," he said gently. "Your concrete has fortified our walls. Your cranes are accelerating our defenses. Your communication crystals are connecting our generals in real time."
"But I'm still in here," she whispered, gesturing at the lab.
Tolan stepped closer. "And that's exactly where you're needed. Let others fight with steel. You fight with brilliance."
Elara closed her eyes.
She didn't agree.
But she understood.
And so, even as war stirred the horizon, Elara Wyrmshade returned to her forge of light and logic—preparing the next miracle, in the hope it might yet save a kingdom.