Isaree & Pebble

A will of iron? At the very least, a will of stone… That’s how far Isaree’s temperament goes. Once she has something rooted in her, nothing can make her change. From her convictions to her friendships, she doesn’t compromise on anything. And just because she comes from the wealthiest classes of Hadera doesn’t mean she cannot be sensitive to the struggles of common folk. Her father, Rama Thongsuk—a dreamy scientist, a geologist as passionate about minerals as about defending the rights of the weak—had instilled in her, from a very young age, a respect for humanist values. Through science and reason, he offered her insights into Asgarthan social issues, always tinged with kindness and compassion. He punctuated his explanations with poems and quotations to etch the guiding principles of his philosophy into Isaree’s mind. And Isaree hung on his every word. She loved those moments of sharing and debate, often held after class in the little tea room next to her school. The embroidered doilies were always covered in crumbs of pastries and scattered books of philosophy.

Her father also knew how to put those principles into practice when he descended into the Enosha mines—officially to collect aerolith samples. Humble and hard-working, he slipped unnoticed among the prospectors’ teams, who appreciated his modesty. He sometimes brought his daughter to the gates where the miners gathered for their shifts, or into the taverns where they relaxed after work. There, with little Isaree on his knee, Rama would help them draft letters or solve bureaucratic problems. The child soon became well known among the staff: from driller to machine operator, even the engineers. She was “the professor’s kid.” Everyone talked to her and spoiled her. Fascinated by everything related to the mine, she eagerly asked for explanations. The mine became like an adoptive family to her. She spent her free time with the miners’ children, joining in their games and festivities—much more fun than the bourgeois ones.

With her mother, Meredith, it was a different story. Their exchanges were rare—and often hostile. Meredith was a fierce businesswoman, always busy managing her ventures. A shipowner affiliated with the Quarrymen’s Guild, she spent her time traveling across Asgartha to close trade deals and open new aerial transit routes. She was rarely present for Isaree. The girl often wondered what could have brought two such opposite people—her parents—together. Meredith also looked very unfavorably on her daughter’s ties to the workers. Their already strained relationship darkened further when a major labor conflict broke out, one that shook the entire peninsula.

In 384 AC, when Isaree turned eighteen, the Enosha strikes erupted. It began with an accident deep in the mine. A shaft, where gas had built up due to a faulty ventilation system, suddenly exploded and collapsed on about twenty miners, who were trapped by the cave-in. A fire spread through the galleries. The firebreak system failed, causing multiple severe burn injuries. Rescue efforts were organized nonetheless: Rama volunteered at once to aid the rescuers, while Isaree helped organize a field hospital, running everywhere to gather gauze, bandages, disinfectant… Victims numbered in the dozens, while a desperate rescue expedition attempted to reach the missing miners. But the outdated infrastructure slowed progress unbearably. After three days, they finally reached the collapsed shaft—only to find the corpses of the twenty miners, dead of asphyxiation just hours before. The moment the bodies were brought up, the grief-stricken miners demanded an inquiry into the tragedy. They pointed directly at the cost-cutting on safety systems. The mine’s management refused, blaming the disaster on “human error.” The miners went on strike.

Isaree threw her support behind them. She joined the miners’ committee and stood guard with the picket line, peacefully blocking access to the shafts. She cut a striking figure: a young, elegantly dressed woman among men in work gear covered with dust and mud. But soon the mine’s security service—thugs hired to break the strike—brutally cleared them out. Because of her attire, Isaree escaped the beatings, though she was shoved violently aside. Among the shareholders, Meredith was the most outspoken in demanding the expulsion of the strikers: the aerolith production stoppage endangered the construction of her new fleet of airships. At a stormy dinner, she ordered her daughter to withdraw from the strike and even threatened to disinherit her. Isaree refused and stormed out of the family home, slamming the door, despite her father’s attempts to mediate.

Welcomed with open arms by the strikers, she moved into the miners’ guild hall, at the very heart of their deliberations. She spent her days discussing, proposing actions, rallying support… and her nights writing pamphlets, drafting plans, painting banners. Tireless, she threw herself wholly into the fight. She traded her fine clothes for overalls and a worker’s cap. Her fervor inspired the miners. Unsure whether to bargain or escalate, they eventually accepted her offer to act as their negotiator. After all, she knew every shareholder, their histories, their weaknesses—often mocked by her mother. The strike committee named her its delegate.

She attended the meeting with her list of demands tucked in her satchel. Confident, convinced of her cause—only to find herself face to face with her mother, newly elected chair of the board. From opposite ends of the negotiation table, mother and daughter clashed with their eyes and words. After days of fruitless discussions, management refused all demands. The strikers had no choice but to seize the mine by force. Isaree joined the expedition, putting her scientific knowledge at their disposal to help them control the machinery. She wrote flyers calling for civil disobedience, taught them how to strengthen defenses and master the factory controls. Her father secretly aided her, offering advice and meals behind his wife’s back.

For days, the mine was covered in banners demanding justice and safety. Leaflets and posters filled the streets. Songs in support of the miners rang through every home. The city of Hadera stood with them. But celebration didn’t last. The shareholders hit back hard, hiring private security forces filled with mercenaries of dubious morals. The sound of boots echoed in the streets. Protesters locked arms at the mine entrance, now a fortified camp. For Isaree, it was the last straw—a declaration of war. She took a megaphone and urged the miners to defend their livelihoods at all costs, even by violence. A raw cry of defiance surged through the strikers. The clash began.

Eidolons joined the demonstrators—among them Gavroche, carrying messages between resistance points. But the strikebreakers charged. Fighting erupted everywhere: at the gates, in the workshops, along the shipping docks. Every building, every corridor became a battleground. The militias’ pressure was too great. One by one, resistance bastions fell. Isaree was beaten while trying to bar the shafts’ entrance. Rescued at the last moment by diehard miners, she was carried to a nearby tavern turned field hospital. There, horrified, she saw the devastation and suffering—the direct result of the violence she had urged. Retaliations were brutal: militias burned the homes of protest leaders. She had persuaded the miners to take up arms. And this destruction was her doing.

The Aegis eventually intervened to quell the riots, but the toll was heavy: hundreds injured, the mine wrecked and unusable for weeks. For Isaree, it was time to reckon. She had lost the fight, and her mother’s support. Her stubbornness had done more harm than good. In defending her ideals, she had forgotten they were meant to serve people first. Her blindness had led to this ruin. Cared for by her father, she let him convince her to leave—both for her safety and because of her own guilt. She was ashamed, crushed by the suffering she had caused.

She fled in secret, a stowaway on one of the family’s airships. Ashamed to abandon the fight, ashamed to run, she curled up in the cargo hold, jaw clenched, cap pulled down to hide her tears. Rage. Frustration. She reached Arkaster, where she found refuge at the Foundry. Penniless, she accepted work at the workshop of a gemsmith, Master Basem Falani, an old friend of her father. Falani took her on as an apprentice, putting tools in her hands to keep her busy. Soon, she felt at ease in the craft, handling each stone with instinctive enthusiasm. Her master urged her to use her gift for Alteration to improve her jewelry—and she followed his advice eagerly, happy to focus only on polishing stones.

Working with metal and minerals gave her a true satisfaction that eased, if only a little, the pain of being separated from her father and friends. She stayed in touch with Rama through the former head of the Lapidaries’ Guild. Mineralogy fascinated her, perhaps because it connected her to her past. Her creations sold well, and she faithfully sent the earnings back to the miners’ families. In parallel, she earned her degrees in geology and then specialized in aerolith studies, following in her father’s footsteps. Alongside work and studies, Isaree engaged in activism, defending the rights of the weak and downtrodden. She still held her ideals of progress and justice—but avoided direct action.

That was without reckoning with her mother’s resentment. Whenever she tried to launch a large project, funding disappeared, doors closed. She realized that Meredith, through her network and influence, was sabotaging her efforts, casting her shadow over everything she attempted. Though cold anger filled her, Isaree was weary—and still traumatized. She carried the weight and scars of guilt. That was why, heavy-hearted, she resolved to apply to the Expeditionary Corps. Her goal was clear: to put as much distance as possible between herself and her mother, to break free of her influence, and perhaps to escape her past mistakes.

She first worked as a maintenance agent for the Ouroboros’ aerolith core. And in a way, she liked starting from the bottom. But when the Corps discovered new deposits of floating stone, she was assigned to organize mining preparations—unaware that this would change her destiny. During a prospecting mission, she inspected a vein to ensure it posed no danger to miners. After several preliminary analyses—purity, depth, geological stability—she suddenly heard a dull rumble behind her.

But it wasn’t the start of a collapse. As she turned, she saw the rock wall tremble. A humanoid figure, nearly three meters tall, pulled itself out of the stone. The Yzmir would have called it a golem, the Ordis a gargoyle perhaps… Isaree stepped back as the colossus stretched to its full height. Two round, glassy eyes stared at her—and at the glowing gems in her hand. She could not tell what that gaze expressed in its rose-colored sockets. Aggression? Curiosity? Indifference? Veins of aerolith ran across its stone-like skin. Suddenly, as Isaree edged backward toward the cavern entrance, the creature laid its hand on the rock wall. And to the lapidary’s utter shock, aerolith crystals sprouted from the stone…