After another year of living alone, Tessal decided to build a hidden forge and workshop on the border between the grey Terminal and the forest near Foosha Village. Over the past two years, he had worked for both the villagers and a few nobles. Everyone in the village tried to help raise him, but nothing could ease the loneliness he felt each day.
He exchanged letters with his father often, but the words on the page could never replace his presence. As time passed, Tessal found himself spending more and more time in his secret workshop, inventing new devices and salvaging parts to create machines of his own design.
The Grey Terminal was quiet that afternoon, broken only by the caw of distant gulls and the groan of rusted metal shifting in the sun. Tessal tightened the straps on the cart he was dragging, its load of scrap iron clattering with each step. Another good haul—enough to tinker with for weeks.
"Hey."
The voice came sharp from above. Tessal froze and glanced up. Two boys perched on the half-collapsed frame of a ship hull, eyes fixed on him like hawks. One had a cocky smirk and a pipe slung over his shoulder. The other, blond and neat despite the grime of the Terminal, crossed his arms and studied Tessal carefully.
"What do you want?" Tessal asked, his tone flat.
"You're not from around here," the dark-haired one said—Ace. He hopped down, landing with a thud that sent dust swirling. "What are you doing with all that junk? Selling it? Hiding something?"
"It's mine," Tessal said curtly, gripping the cart's handle tighter.
Ace narrowed his eyes. "Funny. Looks like stuff we could use. And I don't like strangers sneaking around my territory." He took a step closer, shoulders tense, daring Tessal to react.
Before Ace could move again, Sabo dropped down beside him, resting a hand on his friend's arm. "Easy, Ace. He's just hauling scrap. No need to pick a fight." Then, to Tessal, he asked, "Why do you need all that metal anyway?"
Tessal hesitated. Telling them about the forge was out of the question. "I build things," he muttered.
"Build?" Ace barked a laugh. "What, toys?"
"Machines," Tessal snapped back, surprising even himself with the heat in his voice. "Things you couldn't dream of making."
The air grew taut. Ace grinned, clearly taking it as a challenge. "Big words. Maybe you should prove it. Or maybe I should just take a look for myself." He shifted the pipe off his shoulder, ready for a fight.
Tessal's pulse quickened, but he didn't back down. With a flick of his wrist, he triggered a small contraption hanging from his belt—an improvised smoke bomb. It burst between them, filling the air with a choking haze.
When the smoke cleared, Tessal was already hauling his cart away, his figure swallowed by the shadows of the Terminal.
Ace coughed, then broke into a grin. "Heh. Not bad."
Sabo's eyes followed the trail Tessal had left behind, curiosity flickering in his gaze. "He's interesting. I don't think we've seen the last of him."