I’ve witnessed the Dungeon Core disassembling material in its Inventory at an atomic scale, before. (The Core calls this “digesting its food.”) And Fyreneth used the Core to create the Fortress: from the palace all the way down to its ornate pillars. So I know it’s possible for the Core to work at exceptionally precise scales.

  The trick is communicating this idea in words it will understand. The Core is highly skeptical of my request.

  It’s supposed to spit up the coin it just ate? That doesn’t sound like very much fun.

  No, no, I clarify. I want you to recreate the coin. But without the internal crystalline structure.

  I receive the mental equivalent of a blank stare.

  You could chew it up? I hesitantly suggest. How on Earth does one convey the concept of metallic glass to an entity that describes metal as “cold sour” and glass as “crunchy clean”?

  Oh! Yes, it can chew it up. That’s easy!

  Before I can object, a pile of chopped up bits of coin materialize in the air in front of me and clatter to the ground.

  Kanin and I crane over the pile of metal that’s scattered across the polished floor of my workshop.

  The glass man hesitantly reaches down. “Should I…?”

  “No, don’t bother,” I say with a sigh. “Let me try something else.”

  Over the last couple weeks I haven’t had as much time to work with Kanin on our quest to create metallic glass as I would have liked. There is never an end to the number of things that I need to be doing, and more palace problems invariably pop up on a daily basis. Eventually I just had to block out a few hours of my time in advance and told Kanin to meet me in the lab; sometimes the only way to find free time is to make it.

  I have the Dungeon Core reabsorb the pieces of coin back into its Inventory.

  The problem is the internal structure, I think to the Dungeon Core, fully aware it has no idea what I’m talking about. We need to break up the large-scale order into small clusters, creating disorder on the macro scale but clumps of structure on the micro scale.

  The Core nods along enthusiastically to my words, entirely uncomprehending.

  Like adding a lot of cracks? I think. I still don’t think I’m explaining it right, but the Core is happy to try, anyway.

  The next coin it spits out has plenty of jagged crack-like marks in its structure, but it's still a distinctly solid metal.

  “How would you make this metallic glass normally?” Kanin asks, picking up the coin and flipping it into the air. I’m impressed he’s achieved such levels of dexterity with the glass hands. It hasn’t even been a year that he’s had this body to work with.

  “Various ways,” I say. The Core eats the coin before it’s able to fall back into Kanin’s waiting palm. “Rapid cooling of molten metal. Chemical treatments. Probably there are mechanical ways of achieving it, too. Unfortunately, this wasn’t my area of expertise, so my knowledge of this field is rather limited. I’m sure certain metallic alloys are easier to make non-crystalline than others, though I don’t know which they might be.”

  “Hm.” Kanin produces a piece of glass, which he flattens into the shape of a disk and starts flipping and catching like the coin the Core just ate. The Core attempts to eat this one, too, but is annoyed to find it’s Attuned and so inedible.

  “Glass is an amorphous solid,” Kanin says, dubiously repeating the phrase I’d just taught him. “Which means it’s a solid that kind of acts like a liquid over time.”

  “Effectively.” An extreme over simplification, but without a basis in chemistry or material science, I’m not going to get into the details.

  “So why can’t you, I don’t know, just heat the metal until it’s all goopy?” he asks. “Then it’s a glass, right?”

  “Not exactly,” I say. “Honestly, what happens at a physical level during the glass transition is still not a well understood process. Or at least, it wasn’t well understood on Earth. Maybe someone here was able to figure out the specifics with the help of magic.” An interesting idea, actually. I should look into that.

  “What?” Kanin snatches at his glass coin and misses, but it simply hovers to a stop before it can fall to the ground. “We didn’t understand glass? How did we not understand glass?”

  I raise an amused eyebrow. “You don’t seem to understand much about glass, either, and you’re made of the stuff.”

  He shakes a finger at me. “That’s rude. But you’re right.”

  I chuckle. “And it’s not that we didn’t understand glass, but rather, some of the more detailed physics of what happens at an atomic level. Which makes it extra difficult to explain to the Dungeon Core what I’m trying to achieve.”

  Kanin snorts. “Well if you can’t explain it to me, I doubt you’ll get the Core to understand.”

  He does have a point there.

  He thoughtfully hums to himself again. “Okay, well, even if we don’t understand the exact details of the physics, we can still tell what is and isn’t glass, right?”

  “Of course,” I say. “The non-crystalline structure.”

  “Sure, that.” Kanin swings his bag around his shoulder and starts digging through it. “So if we have a couple different examples of glass for the Core to eat, will it be able to tell what’s the same about all those different samples?”

  “Oh.” I snap my fingers. “Kanin, that’s genius!”

  “I have my moments.” He pulls out a piece of obsidian. “I haven’t Attuned this one yet, so you should be able to add it to your Inventory, right?”

  “That will work perfectly,” I say, gingerly taking the piece from Kanin. Its edges are jagged, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I could accidentally cut myself on it. I wonder if Kanin even realizes how sharp the piece is, given how casually he was handling it.

  “Do you have any other types of non-Attuned glass?” I ask, offering the obsidian to the Core. “The more examples we have, the easier it will be for the Core to understand what physical attribute is the same across all samples.”

  “I think I’ve got a bit of fulgurite, still.” He goes back to digging through his bag as the Dungeon Core pulls the obsidian into its Inventory, happily crunching up the rock.

  Oh yes! It’s had this candy before. There was some back in the cold ground before it came to this floaty ground.

  I’m not surprised; the Core has catalogued more types of stone than I can count. Still, it seems pleased by the obsidian, as it hasn’t had any in quite some time. I go hunting through the Core’s interface, finding a couple other examples of glass it’s previously eaten. By then, Kanin has found a few crumbs of petrified lightning for the Core to consume.

  While technically glass, fulgurite is not the prettiest rock to behold. The pieces Kanin has still look very much like the bits of sand they previously were, fused together from the extreme heat produced by the lightning that created it. The Core catches some of these disparaging thoughts and is aghast that I could hold such negative geological biases. All rocks are wondrous, tasty gifts of nature!

  It licks up all the grains of fulgurite Kanin offers. There’s a moment of processing silence.

  Then the Core is bouncing around my mind like a lit packet of fireworks. Oh! It has not eaten this rock before! What a joyous occasion! And I had insinuated it was lesser. How could I have ever entertained such blasphemous thoughts?!

  You don’t know what blasphemous means.

  The Dungeon Core quickly goes snooping around Kanin’s bag in search for more un-Attuned pieces of fulgurite. I stop it before it empties Kanin’s pockets without him even noticing.

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  “Alright, that should be enough.” I shake my head with a smile. “If you make some more of that fulgurite for the Core, you might become its new best friend.”

  “That would be easy to arrange.” Kanin tips his head. “Well, maybe not up here. But once we can grab some more sand, I’m sure Zyneth would be more than happy to help.”

  Ah, so that’s how he made it. Must be handy to have a partner who can generate electricity.

  “At any rate, we’ve got a couple different samples of glass for the Core to mull over, now,” I say, prompting the Core to focus once more. I mentally gather all the examples of glass it’s consumed, and get it to try to focus on how all of these materials share a similar structure.

  “What does it think?” Kanin asks. “Did that work?”

  This time, it only takes a moment for the Core to catch on. Delicious! Yes, all these rocks are flakey! It really enjoys flakey rocks. It likes how it feels when they come apart between its teeth!

  Flakey? I repeat, skeptical. That’s how you describe—? I stop myself before I can make the mistake of trying to reason with it. Okay, flakey it is. Can you make the coin feel flakey, too?

  The Core happily rolls the coin around its mouth. Oh yes, that would be easy!

  For the briefest moment, I can sense an impression of what the Dungeon Core is doing. The structure of the metal shifts. I can almost feel the electric tingle of chemical bonds breaking and reforming, the structure of the coin swirling as if a great invisible finger is being twirled through its essence.

  Then the Core spits the coin back out of its Inventory, and it clatters to the ground.

  We both crouch down to get a closer look.

  The surface has a dull shine and a distorted spirally impression, but otherwise looks fairly innocuous. Kanin picks it up and grows quiet.

  “Well?” I ask after a few seconds, struggling to contain my eagerness.

  “Well, what do you know?” He turns the coin around in his fingers. “But it looks just like metal.”

  I grin. “It is metal. It worked then? We did it?”

  Kanin’s voice is colored with amusement. “You did it. Metallic glass! I never would have known. What can I even do with this?”

  “Oh, so many things!” I say, brimming with excitement. “It should be much stronger than most of your other glass. But like your traditional glass, you could probably design it to shatter, too—a sort of impact grenade, if you will. It’s also conductive, which means you should be able to make some that’s magnetic. And this is only one alloy! I bet we could get the Core to produce others as well. I can’t wait to see what you can do with it once it’s Attuned. It will be fascinating to watch you form it into different shapes. I wonder what—”

  I stop when Kanin begins to laugh. It’s an odd thing to witness, the delighted sound coming from a stone without the accompanying body language. No smiles or deep breaths or shaking shoulders. But Kanin clasps both my shoulders and gives them a gentle squeeze, and that gesture is human enough.

  “Thank you,” he says. “I know I’m probably starting to sound like a broken record at this point, but thank you. Really.”

  “Of course,” I say, still delighted with our breakthrough. “This opens so many opportunities for me, as well! Not that I particularly have time to dabble in material science these days, but I can’t even imagine what applications this could be used for within the palace.”

  “Or for my body,” he adds quietly to himself.

  The comment stops me in my tracks. Of course, for me this is simple scientific fun. But for Kanin, the implications of wielding this material are far more profound. It literally provides a different way for him to experience the world. I’m beginning to realize there was a lot more emotional weight behind his thank you’s than I’d picked up on in the moment.

  “This is just the first step,” I tell him, attempting to ground my excitement. “I’ll help however I can, both with synthesizing more material and imparting what little material science knowledge I can remember. But by the end of this, I expect you’ll be the expert.”

  He chuckles. “I highly doubt I’ll ever rival your scientific genius, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself,” I tease. “And scientists aren’t some foreign breed of people! Eighty percent of the job is tracking down studies and papers someone else already put all the work into.”

  “Oh, well in that case, taking credit for other people’s efforts is my specialty.”

  I snort. “I can see banter is one of your talents, at the very least. Now, enough chit-chat. Can you Attune that piece?”

  “I can, but it will take a minute,” he says. “And if you make anything bigger, that will take longer still.”

  I show him over to one of my lab’s chairs, where he can sit while he meditates. I’ve not been able to Attune any elements myself, but I’ve witnessed a couple other mages doing so with more tangible elements, and they all go into a sort of meditative trance while they’re infusing the substance with their magic.

  “I’ll manufacture some more in the meantime,” I tell him. “Let me know if I’m being too loud!”

  “You’re fine,” he assures me, settling in to focus on the piece of metallic glass.

  Sorting through the elements in the Core’s Inventory, I try to deduce how much more of the alloy I could—or, more accurately, should—produce. I don’t want to use up too much of my mana on one piece, especially if we can make various alloys of metallic glass and test the properties of each of them. I’m still weighing my options when a hesitant knock raps at my door.

  “Enter,” I absently call, still buried in the Core’s interface. Another problem to solve, no doubt. I knew my fun and games would only last for so long.

  However, I’m pleasantly surprised to find Gardi poking their head through the door.

  Their gaze flicks over to Kanin, who has gone eerily motionless at a nearby desk. A faint light swirls around the piece of metal in his hand.

  “Is now a bad time?” the felis asks.

  “Not at all.” I beckon them in. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Gardi has been adapting well to Fyrethian life, largely thanks to the efforts of their partner, Salvia. It’s been wonderful watching the ex-Jorrian flourish—and watching Salvia learn to laugh and smile again after the death of their father.

  Despite my assurance, Gardi still glances nervously around the room as they step inside. Finally, as if it costs them a great effort, they meet my gaze. “Though I know I am in no position to make such a request, I would like to ask you for a favor.”

  I’m beginning to suspect the nervous twitch of their tail has nothing to do with Kanin being present. “I can’t make guarantees, of course, but please, ask away.”

  They solemnly nod. “I understand. I am able to make other arrangements should you be unwilling to assist.” They take a breath and hold it, their hair puffing up along with their chest.

  As the seconds stretch, I begin to worry about their lung capacity.

  They finally let out the breath in one rushed, exhaled sentence. “In Jorrian culture it is standard to request blessings from someone that all parties of the betrothed respect.” They take in another breath. “It only makes sense for that person to be you.”

  “Betrothed?” The meaning of the word doesn’t fully sink in until after I’ve said it. “You mean you and Salvia—oh! Oh my, of course! Congratulations.”

  Gardi’s hair finally starts to deflate. “Thank you. We would be honored.”

  “The honor is mine,” I assure them, grinning. “Is there anything I need to do? Will I need to write a speech?”

  Gardi blinks in apparent confusion. “Is that part of Fyrethian wedding customs?”

  “No, nevermind,” I say. “Just something from my homeland. At any rate, let me know whatever you need from me, and you’ll have it.”

  Gardi dips their head. “Your offer is too kind.”

  My smile softens, heart full near to bursting. “Is Salvia handling the bracers, then?”

  Gardi finally breaks into a smile themself. “Yes. I was unfamiliar with the custom, but I like the idea. We’re still working on the crest.”

  Fyrethians have a practice of wed partners wearing matching bracers—a more practical version of wedding rings, I gather. The armguards can bear anything from a plain design to intricate etchwork. Often, it depicts something that is representative of the new family. I wonder what the symbol for a union between a Jorrian and Fyrethian would look like?

  Mirzayael stirs in my mind. “Your feelings are leaking.”

  “Sorry,” I think, drawing them back in.

  She smiles. “Don’t be. They’re nice feelings.”

  “Did you know Gardi and Salvia are engaged?” I ask.

  A faint hint of disappointment whisps from Mirzayael. “Unfortunate. It seems they beat us to it.”

  A nervous laugh pulls itself from my lips before I can stop it, and Gardi gives me a perplexed look.

  “Sorry,” I say, still grinning. “I was speaking with Mirzayael. At any rate, congratulations once again, and of course you both have my approval. Keep me informed, won’t you?”

  Gardi assures me they will, and after an excessive exchange of thanks (on their part) and hugs (on mine), they finally depart.

  “What was that about beating us to it?” I ask Mirzayael once I have another moment for my own thoughts.

  She doesn’t attempt to hide her amusement. “You’re so easily flustered.”

  “So that was all to get a rise out of me?” I tease.

  Her amusement turns more gentle. “I don’t mean to pressure you.”

  I lean into the steady comfort of her mind. “I think you already know where I stand on the matter.”

  She doesn’t need to say it: we both know.

  “Will I also have to block out a few hours of your schedule?” she asks. “Or do science experiments take priority?”

  I grin, playfully shoving her mind away as I turn back to Kanin, who has long since finished his Attunement.

  I suppose I could make an exception and put science on the backburner, just this once.

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