The machine screamed.
Sparks flew from the prototype's copper joints as the flywheel jammed mid-rotation. Magnus didn't flinch. He simply turned a dial, vented steam, and waited as the geartrain hissed into silence.
"Sabotage," Helena whispered behind him, crouched low with a wrench in hand. "The teeth on the axle were shaved. Clean work, but intentional."
Magnus straightened, jaw clenched, and wiped soot from his gloves. "Then it's begun."
"The rival inventor?"
He nodded. "Grayson Bell. He was once an academic at the Arkenhold Institute. Brilliant. Bitter. And recently hired by House Marenth to oversee their new mechanical foundry."
Helena frowned. "They're copying your steam hammer."
"And claiming it as their invention."
I. The First Blow
Three days later, a missive arrived at Emberhold.
A royal court seal. Formal language. Legal threat.
Grayson Bell, under commission by House Marenth, had filed a claim of intellectual primacy over the design for an impact-lever steam hammer. The same design Magnus had already deployed in four factories.
If the claim passed, Magnus would be forced to pay reparations and royalties. Worse—his production could be halted under noble law.
"He's trying to outmaneuver me with parchment," Magnus muttered, tossing the letter into the forge fire.
Helena narrowed her eyes. "What will you do?"
Magnus stared into the flames. "I'll teach them that invention isn't born on paper. It's forged in pressure."
II. Gears and Ghosts
Magnus summoned a private audience with The Soot Circle—his trusted group of rogue engineers, ex-smiths, and machinists who owed him more than coin.
"Grayson has a spy in one of the western workshops," he said.
"The patented parts were weeks away from release," added Tobias, a one-eyed machinist from the mill. "Someone leaked our design."
Magnus nodded. "Find the leak. Quietly."
He turned to Helena. "We also strike back. Not with blades—yet—but with a better hammer."
"A Mark II?"
"A monster," Magnus replied. "One that rings so loud, the whole duchy knows who truly built the future."
III. The Machine Roars
In the dim-lit lower forge of Emberhold, steam pulsed like breath from a titan's mouth.
The new hammer stood three stories high, its piston arm sheathed in iron, with dual-tank compression for variable force. It could smash wrought iron into horseshoes—or reduce armor plate to powder.
Tobias shook his head. "If this hits market, Grayson's design looks like a toy."
"That's the point," Magnus said. "Now… let's break a few things."
They christened it The Thunderhead.
When the first test strike hit the forge anvil, it shattered three stone foundations in the adjacent wall.
IV. Courtroom Smoke
A week later, Magnus arrived at the Ducal Court in a coat lined with soot-blackened silver and a small gear on his collar.
Grayson Bell stood across the floor, dressed like a scholar, smug in his polished boots. A stack of papers sat before the magistrate.
Magnus produced only one item—a scorched ingot, forged by The Thunderhead.
"This is what we produce," he said. "What we've always produced."
Grayson scoffed. "The law is not about results. It is about invention. Proof. My sketches predate—"
Magnus cut him off.
"Sketches are dreams. I build reality."
He dropped the ingot.
It cracked the marble floor.
The magistrate stared.
Judgment took three hours. The court ruled in Magnus's favor.
But he didn't smile.
Because winning was just the beginning.
V. The Real Theft
That night, the spy was found.
A journeyman named Rell. Quiet. Efficient. Paid by Marenth's quartermaster to smuggle gear schematics.
Magnus didn't kill him.
He hired him.
"You've already proven your skill," he said. "But working for me means something different."
Rell blinked. "What's that?"
"You don't steal secrets. You create them."
Rell nodded, trembling.
VI. The End of Bell
A month later, Grayson Bell's factory burned.
Accident, they said.
A boiler exploded. Poor design. Overpressure.
No evidence. No trace.
House Marenth sued no one.
Magnus said nothing.
But across the duchy, merchants whispered of a different kind of war—a war fought with ink and iron, with forges and flame.
And in the halls of power, they began calling him something new:
The Patent Warlord.