The Manufactory was always loud and sweltering as heavy machinery melted, molded, and pounded steel to be further worked and shaped by smiths and assembled by expert engineers into modern marvels.

One man ostensibly oversaw it all, but he was presently occupied tinkering with some unfamiliar gadget, likely a new invention of his own design. He might not have even noticed he had a guest if his favorite device, the aptly named and incomprehensible to everyone but him prospectometer, hadn’t helpfully alerted him.

Stephanivien looked up from his work with a smile that shone with the confidence of a man who could always find a silver lining even if he had to craft it himself. “Inspiration is a fickle thing, is it not? And yet here it is walking straight in through the door of my workshop. I would be remiss to ignore it.”