Chapter 533: The Angré Loom
Inside the spacious, brightly lit magical laboratory, researchers clad in standard mage robes gathered around the workbench. Brilliant light from a magic crystal stone overhead illuminated the objects below with crystal clarity. On a one-foot-square sheet of purple copper lay a thin metal plate etched with arcane elemental runes and magic-conducting lines, arranged into an orderly array of magical power. Each node within the array pulsed rhythmically, like a steady breath, forming a complete cycle of mana flow. With every cycle, energy was steadily and reliably output.
The process repeated—stable, continuous, efficient, and elegant.
The robed mages craned their necks, eyes shining with excitement and a hint of nervousness as they watched the metal plate. Even the elder mages held their breath alongside the younger ones, as if afraid a single exhale might disrupt the runes’ delicate mana circulation. The only sound in the silent lab was a young black-haired female mage counting clearly, “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty…”
Gradually, others around her broke the silence, softly joining in: “Thirty-one, thirty-two…”
By the last few numbers, no one could hold back. In the vast laboratory, a group of the empire’s most brilliant minds chanted together like apprentices just learning to count: “Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one… forty-two!”
The count stopped abruptly at forty-two. After a brief pause, nearly everyone erupted in cheers. “Forty-two! One full cycle complete!” “Stable operation, no interference!” “We did it!”
Among the jubilant imperial mages, the young black-haired mage, Mary, clapped along somewhat shyly and awkwardly. She looked up toward the only person who hadn’t joined the celebration—the aged high mage standing beside the workbench. Draped in a heavy, worn robe, his face was as carved from stone, expressionless and detached, as if this moment had nothing to do with him.
After about thirty seconds of cheering, the old mage finally raised a hand slightly.
The crowd around the bench quickly fell silent. One by one, they turned to the black-robed elder, and a growing respect shone in their eyes.
In the world of mages, only knowledge and power commanded true respect—and this man named Daniel possessed both.
At that moment, no one cared about the writhing artificial nerve cords behind Daniel, nor about his notoriously volatile temper and sharp tongue.
“This is the magic network—the Typhon’s own magic network,” Daniel’s piercing eyes swept over every face in the room. Wrinkles creasing his weathered face, a faint, almost mocking smile tugged at his lips. His eccentric temperament was well known, so no one doubted the sincerity of his words. “We have now cracked the Ansu’s secret, but this is only the first step.”
The mages nodded in agreement. Someone echoed, “Yes, now we need to figure out how to miniaturize it and mass-produce it quickly…”
“The Ansu’s magic network units are said to be no larger than a palm, yet their efficiency rivals this bulky thing we’ve built,” Daniel nodded. “So the next goal is to shrink it down. As for mass production… we’ve already prototyped the repulsion piston engine, and now that we have a stable power source, once the first stamping machine runs, the magic network and machines will be able to replicate themselves.”
“Machines making machines…” an older mage said admiringly. “Master Daniel, you truly are a genius.”
“Unfortunately, the Ansu started earlier and have gone further. Rumor has it they’ve not only built machines that can work but even machines that can cast spells—His Majesty the Emperor is deeply concerned about this, so we cannot stop here.”
“Machines that can cast spells…”
The mages buzzed with discussion. These extraordinary minds from across Typhon, versed in obscure fields, grasped the weight of Daniel’s words. The concept challenged their understanding, stirring shock, fear, and resistance—but they also sensed the profound implications behind the technology. To them, this was a forbidden realm, a heresy against tradition. Yet now, the Emperor’s mandate was to break with tradition, to study the forbidden.
A strange thrill spurred them on—nervous but eager.
Daniel left the lab, leaving the imperial mages clustered around the runes, still excited and energized. Apprentice Mary followed close behind.
“No wonder His Majesty recruits researchers outside the Royal Mage Association,” Mary said, keeping pace with her mentor. Having worked in this imperial research facility for some time, this life was different from her days in the Mage Tower. Her timid nature had softened; at least now she dared to voice her thoughts. “Only these people wouldn’t recoil at the idea of ‘machines that can cast spells’—instead, they’d be intrigued.”
“They’re still a bunch of fools… just a little less stupid than the rest,” Daniel snapped acidly. “They’re satisfied with these results, but they have no idea how astonishing the math behind it all really is.”
Mary wanted to argue that progress must be gradual, and that those unfamiliar with rune logic couldn’t be expected to grasp the magic network’s depths at first glance. But she wisely kept silent, knowing her mentor would only get angry.
Daniel’s mood was surprisingly good. He lifted his gaze ahead, taking in the long, straight corridor of the imperial research facility, the neatly arranged rooms lining both sides, and the mages, scholars, and alchemists bustling to and fro.
This was the “Imperial Engineering Association,” established by order of Emperor Rosetta of Typhon. The name alone marked it as distinct from the Royal Mage Association, the various artisan guilds, and scholarly societies. Here, knowledge and skill were pooled to create practical new inventions and technologies. Since its founding seven years ago, the facility had produced several epoch-making innovations that reshaped the empire—such as the nationwide adoption of fuel acidification, new road-building techniques, and a revolutionary white crystal production method that cut costs to a tenth of the original.
The facility was the brainchild of Emperor Rosetta himself, but its design—including the style of the laboratories—was the work of Windsor Mapel, president of the Royal Mage Association. The brilliant female leader had boldly reformed the traditional mage architecture, replacing the old, dark, cramped, and mystically cloaked private labs with spacious, well-lit, large-scale laboratories.
Many traditional mages looked down on the Imperial Engineering Association’s labs, claiming they lacked the mystery and nobility of magecraft. But Daniel thought otherwise.
“Windsor’s lab designs aren’t without merit,” he said approvingly.
He appreciated the bright, open environment—it reminded him of the “experimental space” created by his master.
Mary walked beside Daniel and quietly asked, “Master, are we heading back now?”
Daniel nodded slightly. “Yes. You go to the office and organize the data.”
Mary acknowledged him. But just as she turned to leave, a group of excited researchers appeared from a nearby corner. Recognizing them, Daniel and Mary stopped in their tracks.
“Ah! Master Daniel!”
The approaching group had already spotted the pair. Whether due to Daniel’s own reputation or the introduction from the Royal Mage Association’s president, he held considerable status here. They greeted him from a distance, and as they drew near, Daniel nodded in response. “I was just about to head back—why are you all so excited?”
“You should wait! We have something to show you!” a scholar in a white robe beamed. “A bold and clever man—a clockmaker from Angré—has brought a fascinating machine. If your repulsion piston engine solves the power problem, this machine will be incredibly useful!”
“A clockmaker’s machine?” Daniel raised his sparse eyebrows, a playful tone in his voice. “What does it do?”
“Driven by a waterwheel, it can weave cloth!”
Daniel’s expression remained unchanged. He stood quietly for a moment, then softly said, “Oh… that’s very good news.”
…
Cecil City, Lord’s Manor.
Gawain’s pen paused mid-document. He lifted his head, his gaze unfocused as it drifted toward the wall. After a moment, he let out a soft sigh, his expression turning grave.
Amber, standing nearby, immediately noticed his change. Curious, she asked, “What’s wrong? Another wasted effort?”
Gawain shook his head slightly. “No. It’s just that time suddenly feels much tighter.”
Not far away in Typhon, a machine called the “Angré Loom” had appeared.
The loom itself was nothing earth-shattering. In fact, in Cecil, practical spinning and weaving machines had long entered the industrial stage. But the fact that a clockmaker from Typhon had created a practical machine and brought it to the imperial research facility was a warning bell for Gawain.
Typhon’s development was about to accelerate. It was on the cusp of a new era.
Emperor Rosetta had built an advanced imperial system, and that system was naturally beginning to show its power. After decades of centralization, reform, exploration, construction, and accumulation, Typhon’s society seemed ready to break free from the agricultural age. More and more skilled artisans had the capacity to transform their experience into technological products. More scholars, in an open economy, turned their attention to practical industries. Even the mages of Typhon were beginning to step out of their towers.
After all this buildup, a brave clockmaker had finally delivered his invention to the imperial research facility. This machine would surely catch the attention of Rosetta Augustus—the visionary emperor would not overlook its significance. And once this precedent was set, the inspiration it would give to Typhon’s craftsmen was unimaginable. The pace of Typhon’s progress could only accelerate.
In a world where magic existed and many technologies moved from theory to practice at astonishing speeds, once an “industrial revolution” began, it would unfold even faster than on Earth.
At this moment, Gawain was deeply grateful he had sent Daniel to Aldern.
He looked up at Amber, whose face was full of curiosity. “Go fetch Pittman and Kamail—also Hetty and Rebecca.”
(End of chapter)