Steel and Mana

The city of Cerna hummed with life. The winding cobblestone streets echoed with the constant rhythm of hammers hitting against metal and their heavy anvils. The clink of metal and the rolling wheels of carts were the background music of the incessant chatter of its people as life was part exciting, part terrifying since the Judgement had arrived and they became the principal city of their rebelling Empress. Under the banners of the Silver Region, they began preparing for war as people were flocking to Cerna, ready to support the cause of their Empress. Mirian Ishillia's name was already on the lips of many, and since the establishment of the Empire, no ruler cared so much about its people like her.

Jorik, a blacksmith by trade, thought the same as those who were arriving in the region every day. He would have already signed up for the army if not for his bad leg. He wiped the sweat from his brow and hefted another rod of iron from the forge while thinking about it. If not on the frontline, he will do his best where he can! The metallic scent of heated steel filled the air, something he got used to very early in life. His shop, located near the city's bustling main square, had never been busier. Orders flowed in constantly—axes, swords, shields, and armor pieces for Empress Mirian's growing army.

Only a few years ago, Jorik and his fellow smiths had lived under the tight constraints of the nobility, producing fine weapons and metalwork exclusively for the aristocracy. The Zimmermann family wasn't particularly oppressive, but some sub-regions and their noble families serving the Zimmermanns were taxing the passing caravans heavily, making it increasingly expensive to do their job. Worse, if there was trouble brewing, the Imperial Edicts were forcing them into tight quotas. But now, with Duke Garbank Kustov in power and the Empress's reforms changing Ishillia, things have shifted dramatically.

"No more overbearing nobles breathing down our necks..." Jorik mused as he plunged the red-hot rod into a barrel of water, the steam hissing into the air. Under the new decrees, the blacksmiths all over the Empire were given the freedom to take on more orders, not only from nobles. Even better, they could ask for a fair price and couldn't be forced to accept lower pay just because of the difference in their ranks! "Heh, finally, someone realized that the price means not only the raw materials going into a sword but my skill and time!" He chuckled, praising his Empress's name in his head while working.

After the first time Mirian's edicts were announced, he hired two more apprentices. They were both young men like him when he took over the shop from his own father. They also came from a long line of smiths but had previously been unable to enter the trade due to the aristocracy hoarding opportunities. Now, his shop not only produced for the army but for everyday folk who, thanks to Mirian's policies, could afford better tools for their own trades. It was the best of two worlds, as he could also earn and train his apprentices by letting them forge the tools people needed. Life was never so good before...

Emira stood in the market, watching the ebb and flow of customers through the stalls and people arriving at Jorik's workshop at the end of the street. Her own booth was laden with bolts of fabric and finely embroidered tunics, cloaks, or gloves, the perfect accessories for a new armor or weapon. In Cerna's past, merchants like her had been beholden to the whims of noble families who controlled most trade. Prices had been manipulated, and competition was stifled by monopolies granted to aristocratic favorites. One of the Zimmermann sons had been among the worst, demanding exorbitant fees to trade within the city's walls... except if you were a friend of the family. Or a friend of their friends... or just had something to bribe them with.

However, the mindset had changed since the revolt and their exilement, especially after Empress Mirian's rise. The nobility's grip on commerce had loosened, and with Duke Kustov's support of the new reforms, Emira's business had flourished. She no longer had to pay exorbitant taxes or bribes just to keep her stall open.

"Fine silks from the eastern provinces! From the Atuvian League! Wool, straight from Avalon! The newest region of our Empire!" she called out, drawing the attention of a few passersby. The people in the marketplace were more diverse now, too. Artisans, laborers, and even former servants had become regular customers, thanks to the redistribution of wealth and the land reforms that had given commoners more opportunities, leaving coins in their pockets that they could spend at her stall.

Emira smiled as a pair of soldiers in freshly made steel approached her booth, their uniforms bearing the insignia of Empress Mirian's newly established guards. They were part of the recently announced army the Empress was recruiting and outfitting right here in Cerna. The soldiers had money to spend, and it wasn't just for the wealthy anymore, nor would they start threatening her to give them a 'fair price.' They thumbed through her fabrics with casual interest, joking about who would look better in which color, finally having a human's nature behind their armor and not that of a rotten beast's.

Across the city, further away from Emira's stall or Jorik's workshop, Tomas wiped the sawdust from his hands and stood back to admire his work. The wooden frame of a small house was nearly complete. Soon, he will be able to start using the mix of bricks and mortar to finish it. To finish his house. A few years ago, he wouldn't have had the chance to work on a project like this. Skilled labor had been tightly controlled by the imperial bloodline, and most construction projects were lavish estates for the nobility or infrastructure that served them. But now, thanks to the reforms, the demand for housing has risen as more and more commoners have gained the means to build homes of their own.

Once crushed under the weight of tithes and lack of opportunity, the people of Ishillia were finally experiencing growth. The new laws allowed skilled laborers like Tomas to take on contracts independently, hire his workers, and, most importantly, keep the majority of their earnings. The city had always been wealthy from its production of metal and steel, but now that wealth was circulating among the common people. So, his first move was to buy his own land and start building his home, which would be passed down to his family for generations to come.

"I've got a fresh job lined up after this!" he said, smiling at his team of laborers. "We'll be building a small workshop for one of the local metalworkers. It seems everyone's expanding these days."

The sense of camaraderie among the simple workers, farmhands, or errand boys had deepened in recent years. Where once they had been rivals, competing for the few scraps left to them by the nobles, now they worked together to build a better future for themselves and their families. And while the civil war loomed in the distance, here in Cerna, there was a sense of pride in what they were creating.

Just like on the face of Lenka, who was sitting in the cool shade of her shop, stitching the hem of a dress. The air outside was thick with the smell of iron and the faint ringing of hammers, but it was peaceful here in her little corner of Cerna. Her clientele had changed over the years, just as the city had. She used to sew only for the noblewomen of Cerna—fine gowns for balls and feasts that she would never attend. Now, she stitched for everyone.

Ordinary women, people she knew and frequently hung out with who could not afford such luxuries, now came to her for dresses, undergarments, and even finely embroidered handkerchiefs. Mirian's reforms had seen to that. The redistribution of wealth, taken from the chased away or killed nobles, created a new class of customers—people who were finally able to spend their earnings on more than just survival.

Lenka had even received a commission to make uniforms for some of Mirian's recruits. Officers, they called them. The Empress had made Cerna her base, and the influx of soldiers and officials had breathed new life into the city. The demand for sturdy, well-made uniforms had grown, and Lenka was one of the many seamstresses benefitting from it.

"These days, it feels like the city belongs to us, not them..." she murmured as she threaded her needle, thinking back to the time when the Zimmermanns ruled. Although she liked the previous Earl, Matilda Zimmermann, she couldn't say the same about her sons. The memory of their revolt still lingered in the streets—whispers of how Reus, Maximilian, and Bastian had tried to seize control from their mother and ultimately failed, causing many to lose sons and husbands in the region. But with them gone and their power stripped away, the people of Cerna had found their own voice.

Still, they could recover because the greatest healer was always time itself.

Cerna's skyline was dominated by the spires of the ancient castle in the middle. But, right now, it was surrounded by newly erected forges, houses, and the massive, beautiful flying ship hovering above the city. Yet, it was not the most eye-catching thing either. That title belonged to the tall, human-like machine standing within the now 'Imperial Court' and was constantly being worked on, newly hammered steel armor being put onto it. It didn't take long for people to start calling it the Silver Knight... Those who witnessed the battle of the Three Sons knew even more. They saw something similar back then and knew how powerful it could be. It gave them confidence in the Empress that they could withstand when the newly announced Eternal Emperor came to reunite Ishillia.

For others, it was another sign of new things to come. The city had always been rich, its veins running deep with silver, iron, and steel, but it had been a wealth reserved for the few. Now, under Duke Kustov's steady leadership and Empress Mirian's vision for a more just empire, that wealth was being put to use in ways that improved the lives of many.

The streets were filled with the sounds of industry, but they were no longer the harsh, discordant notes of forced labor. Instead, they formed a symphony of progress—blacksmiths working with renewed purpose, merchants trading with newfound freedom, and artisans creating for a city that had finally become their own.

And as the rebellion against Pascal Ishillia gained momentum in the far corners of the Empire, Cerna stood as a beacon of what the future might hold: a city where the power of the nobility had faded and the strength of the people had begun to shine.