The morning air was cool and sharp, and for the first time in years, I wasn't up before dawn to sneak off to some secret project. Today, I had a schedule. A training schedule. Because apparently, being the disciple of a Master Tinkerer came with responsibilities. And appointments. And expectations.
Ugh.
Tolan had arrived that morning with a rolled-up scroll, a stack of rune templates, and the kind of energy usually reserved for salesmen and caffeine addicts.
"Rise and shine, my brilliant apprentice!" he'd announced, flinging open the workshop doors like a stage performer. "Today, we unlock the mysteries of the Forbidden Vectors!"
I'd groaned from under a blanket in the corner. "It's not even breakfast yet."
But by mid-morning, I was actually enjoying myself.
Sort of.
Tolan's idea of teaching was chaotic but passionate. He pulled out ancient runes I'd never seen—symbols that seemed to vibrate with old energy, like forgotten ideas waiting to be rediscovered. Some of them had patterns I'd considered but never dared to implement.
He explained the historical context of runes that could redirect mana flows in three dimensions, compress ambient energy, or create runic illusions. They weren't optimized—not even close—but they were interesting. And valuable.
"You know," I said after analyzing one for ten minutes, "if you just switch this curve here, and reduce the ratio of this spiral to 3.14159, you'd get about 60% more stability."
Tolan blinked at me. "What?"
I demonstrated on one of my own rune plates, etching the changes in with casual precision.
The results were immediate. The glow steadied, the hum of mana flow softened, and the core output leapt by half.
He stared at it for a long time, then sat down.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"I've spent thirty years refining that glyph set," he murmured. "Thirty years."
"...Oops?"
He laughed. Loudly. Then rubbed his eyes like someone accepting a very strange dream.
"You know," he said, voice finally returning to normal, "I thought I was going to spend the next decade teaching you everything I know."
"Turns out you're only two centuries behind," I offered helpfully.
He stared at me.
I grinned. "Kidding. Mostly."
To his credit, Tolan wasn't proud. Once he realized how far ahead I was in technical thinking, he switched strategies. He focused on exposing me to new runes, explaining the culture and tradition behind their development, and challenging me to think differently about structure.
He became more of a collaborator than a teacher.
And I—well, I thrived.
Between my growing knowledge base, the new runes, and access to better materials through Tolan's network, I accelerated faster than ever before. I designed a double-buffered power conduit system, a dual-output mana distributor, and a reverse-link stabilizer to prevent mana feedback in dense cores.
Tolan would mutter things like "impossible" and "revolutionary" before pulling out a notebook and scribbling feverishly.
Meanwhile, the rest of the village watched in awe as more and more of my inventions spread.
Mira's bedroom now had a magically regulated nightlight.
Leo's chicken-chasing golem had developed three modes, including stealth.
And my workshop had expanded into the entire barn.
There was, however, one downside to my new position.
People had expectations.
"Now that you're a Master's apprentice," my mother said one morning, "you really should consider dressing the part."
I froze mid-bite of toast. "What?"
She gave me that look. The one that said 'you may be a genius but I'm still your mother.'
Tolan nodded sagely beside her. "It would help with public image."
"You mean optics?" I narrowed my eyes. "I'm an inventor, not a noble."
My father coughed politely. "But you might as well be, now. The Tinkerers' Guild… they've started sending letters."
"Letters?"
"Requests. Invitations. Proposals. People are starting to talk, Elara. You've already been named as a full Heir in Tolan's lineage registration."
I blinked. "...He what?"
"I signed the paperwork two weeks ago," Tolan said calmly. "It's safer this way. You're under guild protection now. No one can take you without going through me. Or... you, eventually."
I suddenly felt like I was sitting in someone else's life.
Heir. Guild. Invitations. Dresses?
"What does this mean?"
"It means," Tolan said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a polished silver brooch, "that when you wear this, people will know who you are. And they'll listen. You're not just some girl in a barn anymore."
"I was never just some girl in a barn!"
He smiled. "Exactly."
The brooch was beautiful. A gear etched with runes, surrounding a stylized flame. Tolan's crest.
I hated how much I liked it.
Still, I tried. I really did.
I wore a clean tunic. I combed my hair. I even let Mira and my mother take me to the seamstress for a fitting.
It was... traumatic.
There were corsets.
But I survived.
Mostly.
I compromised by designing a lab coat with embedded heating runes and adjustable pockets. It was sleek, white, and functional. Mira called it "adorable." Leo called it "scary." Tolan called it "impressive."
I called it freedom.
One evening, as Tolan and I sat in the workshop, he asked something unexpected.
"Do you know why I never took an apprentice before you?"
I shook my head.
"Because I always feared they'd follow my path too closely. That they'd become a shadow of me. But you… you don't even walk the same road."
"That's because I paved a new one," I said quietly.
He nodded. "Exactly. And it's an honor to walk beside you, even if only to carry your tools."
I didn't know what to say to that.
So I just smiled.
And quietly, I resolved to earn that honor.
Even if it meant learning a few more lady-like manners along the way.
To be continued...