Oakhaven was a fortress of glass and copper, but the Empire of Solis was a fortress of history. To get the "Encryption Key" and stop Vane from dismantling the Commonwealth's grid, Alaric couldn't send an army. He had to become a ghost.
Leaving the defense of the valley to Elena and Harl, Alaric boarded a neutral merchant cog, disguised as a humble clockmaker named "Zeb." He carried only a leather satchel containing a set of precision calipers, a hidden pocket-chronometer, and a primitive Electrolytic Etching Tool.
---
The capital of Solis, Aurelian, was a marvel of pre-industrial scale. While Oakhaven was efficient, Aurelian was grand. Marble aqueducts ran alongside soot-belching steam-pumps, and the harbor was a forest of masts and iron smokestacks.
"They have the resources, Kaelen," Alaric whispered as they walked through the Great Bazaar, their hoods pulled low. "But they don't have the Integration. They're just bolting steam engines onto 500-year-old structures."
"They have enough to hang us if we're caught," Kaelen grunted, his hand never far from the concealed dagger in his sleeve.
---
The target was the "Tower of Sun-Dial," a massive stone spire where the Empire's most secret projects were housed. Somewhere in its depths, Vane was perfecting the Mechanical Cipher Disk, the key that would allow the Imperial Navy to read every "pulse" on the undersea cable.
Alaric didn't pick the lock. He used Chemistry.
Under the cover of a festival fireworks display, a crude Oakhaven export the Solis nobles loved, Alaric applied a high-concentration Aqua Regia solution to the iron hinges of a servant's entrance. The acid, a mixture of nitric and hydrochloric acids, dissolved the metal silently, leaving a path of orange fumes in the dark.
---
Inside the laboratory, the "Wow Factor" took a chilling turn. Vane hadn't just built a cipher, he had built a Mechanical Logic Array. Thousands of brass pins and sliding bars were arranged in a mahogany frame, a primitive, non-electronic computer designed to brute-force the Oakhaven codes.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Alaric spun around. Vane stood in the shadows, his face half-hidden by a silver mask to cover the burns from the Steam Carriage explosion. He wasn't holding a sword, he was holding a Pneumatic Needle-Gun.
"I knew you'd come, Arthur," Vane said, his voice a metallic rasp. "You can't stand the idea of a system you didn't authorize."
"You're building a weapon of total surveillance, Vane," Alaric said, his eyes scanning the room for an exit. "If the Emperor has this, no thought in the world will be private. You're ending the Renaissance before it even begins."
"No," Vane countered, stepping into the light. "I'm leveling the playing field. You kept the secrets in Oakhaven. I'm giving them to the highest bidder. That's the Free Market, Architect."
---
Alaric didn't argue. He moved.
He didn't try to smash the machine, he knew Vane had backups. Instead, he pulled the Electrolytic Etcher from his bag. It was a copper rod connected to a high-capacity Leyden jar.
As Kaelen lunged at the Imperial guards, Alaric slammed the etcher against the central brass "Logic Plate" of the machine. The surge of electricity didn't just break the pins, it fused them together in a random, molten slag.
"The key is gone!" Vane screamed, firing the needle-gun.
The dart whistled past Alaric's ear, embedding itself in a wooden cabinet. Alaric grabbed a small, palm-sized iron box from the workbench, the Master Rotor, and sprinted for the window.
---
"Kaelen! The 'Aero-Cape'!"
The two men leapt from the tower balcony, three stories above the canal. In mid-air, they pulled the ripcords on their cloaks, a reinforced silk Paraglider design Alaric had tested in the Oakhaven cliffs.
The Imperial guards watched in stunned silence as the two "ghosts" glided over the city walls and into the dark waters of the harbor, where the Oakhaven-1 submarine was waiting with its hatch open.
---
Back on the Oakhaven-1, Alaric sat shivering in a wool blanket, clutching the Master Rotor. He had the Imperial key, but his heart was heavy.
"We stopped him for now," Kaelen said, pouring Alaric a cup of hot broth.
"No, Kaelen," Alaric looked at the brass gears in his hand. "We just taught him that physical machines are too easy to break. Vane is smart. Next time, he won't build a tower. He'll build a Network of Minds. He's going to start a Spy Academy."
As the submarine dove into the safety of the deep sea, Alaric realized the "Dilemma" had reached its final stage, The War of Ideology.