《No Strings Attached》


 Prologue

    Prologue


    42nd Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    Harbour Town, Harbour Isle, the Sapphire Ocean


    "This way, sir, to the dead. Though as I said via our correspondence, the dead are slim-pickings at the moment," Plowthorn said. The man was a portly sort of fellow, with a jovial smile and a relaxed, almost lazy gait. The spark in his eyes had long since dulled, but this was Harbour Town, and people with anything approaching ambition usually used it to leave the isle entirely.


    "That''s fine. I assume that the Wyrm Council took the subjects that remained?" Magus Maldrak Hollowspine asked. He smiled, showing off teeth that were straight and true, and white besides. Behind him, his attendants--two young men in dark, featureless robes--looked on impassively.


    Mister Plowthorn nodded. "Oh, yes. You missed most of the good ones, I''m afraid. Though if you wish, I could set aside some of the more interesting specimens for you. For a small nominal fee. Nothing egregious, of course."


    "Of course," the Magus replied.


    They were on the wharf, though that wasn''t saying very much. Harbour Town, as the name implied, was mostly made up of wharfs, docks, piers and even a few jetties, though the last were still under construction.


    Ten years ago, this town was a small space, occupied by a village of a hundred and ruled over by a lesser baron barely worthy of the title. Now it housed ten thousand, and twice as many people passed through every moon.


    War galleons and shipping vessels were moving about over the waters even now, and the place was as busy as it had even been.


    "Right this way, sir Magus," Plowthorn said. There was a small business, just off of a narrow pier and built on sturdy stilts above the coast. A barn, of sorts. A freshly painted sign over the door hinted at its usage.Plowthorn and Son''s Bodies and Seaside Salvage.


    Plowthorn pulled out a piece of cloth from a pocket and wrapped it around his head. "Ah, does milord wish a handkerchief as well? The stench is... well, quite predictable."


    "No, I''ll be well," he replied. "This won''t be my first meeting with the dead." A flick of his fingers and there was a shift in the wind around them, enough to make the edges of the magus'' long black robes flutter.


    The portly man bobbed his head, glanced at the two servants with the magus, then dismissed them from his thoughts as he entered the location of his business.


    The barn was a decently large warehouse of a building. There was a small office space to one end, with a large window overlooking the sea. Beyond, the main room was filled with long racks. These were as deep as a man was tall and built to house long wooden slabs. The air within the room was chilly, a mixture of clever architecture with air circulating in from slats in the roof, and cooled by several large stones held up on plinths. These were covered in a thin layer of frost, and the plinths below were designed to carry the condensation runoff out and towards a waiting bucket.


    The drip from the magical cooling devices tapping into the nearly-full buckets was the only noise in the room, at least until Plowthorn spoke up. "Boy!" he snapped to a young man. "Empty the buckets! And then get the others to help. We''ve got a customer here."


    There was rapid movement as the boy in question hopped to his work. Soon the buckets were emptied and the occupied slabs slotted into the wall-mounted racks were pulled out.


    "Only three?" the Magus asked.


    "Only three at the moment, good sir," Plowthorn said. "And I''m afraid these three are the ones that the Wyrm Council had no interest in."


    The Magus frowned, delicate brows meeting together, but he didn''t dismiss the man outright. "Well, let''s see, shall we?"


    The occupied slabs were moved onto a small wheelbarrow-like cart designed for the purpose, and all three were brought to the far end of the room where the lighting was better and where several garlands of strong herbs hung from the ceiling.


    The corpses were naked and bloated. Skin blued by water, and purpled by necrosis. The Magus scanned them all. "No missing limbs," he said. "Some amount of rot. These aren''t the freshest, but nothing unusable. Why were these rejected?"


    Plowthorn gestured towards the bodies. "Women," he replied. "The Wyrm Council will rarely make an exception for that sort of thing."


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    "Ah," the Magus replied. "I suppose I should count myself lucky, then."


    "Indeed, sir Magus. Just a month ago the Wyrm Council would have cleared out my entire inventory, regardless of gender and missing limbs," Mister Plowthorn said. "Now they''re being a lot more careful about their choices. It won''t last."


    "It won''t?" the Magus asked. "How would you know?"


    Plowthorn adjusted the fit of his handkerchief and gave the Magus a long look. "You''ve only been on the isle for a few days, yes?"


    "My ship arrived a fortnight ago," Maldrak replied. The information wasn''t confidential. His ship, theGentle Tidings, was moored nearby still. He and his servants and aides had been the only ones aboard, other than the crew, of course. For the moment he was residing in an acquaintance''s estate further inland. A newer construction, as most on this island were.


    "I see, I see. Then you haven''t seen the number of corpses that have gone past. The Wyrms have been bringing them in by the cartload and shipping just as many out. I''ve been able to make a respectable business just picking them off the sea and along the coasts. A number of them have the marks that the Wyrms place on every body."


    "They don''t mind you reselling them their own stock?"


    "I give them a discount," Plowthorn said with a dark chuckle. "Ah, but that''s another topic for another time. It''s been happening in waves, you see. The Wyrm creates an army and sends it out, then a month later it isn''t enough and more need to be bought and shipped to the mainland. Again and again. And they''re not the only ones with an interest. It''s a tidy business. In any case, sir, I wonder if these three will be suitable for you? Otherwise, I can mark out any incoming bodies for your use, for a small fee."


    The Magus hummed, then gestured to one of his assistants. The young man caught on immediately and reached into a pouch by his hip to retrieve a small leather roll filled with implements. Knives and spoons and the tools of an embalmer.


    He inspected each body one after the other, heedless of any odours or the like. The first was a younger woman, one unused to manual labour, judging by the condition of her hands. Flaxen-haired and fair of skin, at least before it was discoloured by death.


    The next was taller and even slimmer. Her skin was the darker hue of someone from the Northern kingdoms. She was well-muscled, though he could tell little about her otherwise. The corpse was the most beaten and aged.


    The last was larger, better muscled. The kind of build he would have expected to see on a farmhand, or a hardy, well-fed and well-worked peasant.


    "These will do, I suppose," he replied.


    "Ah, you don''t mind the state of them?" Plowthorn asked.


    "When I''m done, that will hardly matter," he said before turning to his men. "Take these three to the docks. We''ll bring them aboard theGentle Tidings. Mister Plowthorn, I imagine that you don''t mind speaking to my associate here with regards to the matter of price."


    "Of course not, milord," Plowthorn replied with a quick bow. "I''ve been honoured to be able to help you. Though... will you be remaining on Harbour Isle for long?"


    "No, not very," the Magus said. "My business is on the mainland, though I worry about setting foot upon it."


    "Aye," Plowthorn said. He cleared his throat, as though realizing that he''d spoken like a common man rather than the businessman he tried to appear as. "It''s bad news, setting foot on the mainland. Best to keep to the shore at most. The madness is still running rampant, and there''s tales that even the cleanest seeming lake is tainted by dragon''s blood. Ah, but the riches! It''s driving many to push past the risks, isn''t it?"


    "I''m not so keen on the riches," the Magus replied. "But rather... I have a burning desire to discover what led to the madness and the fall of an entire civilisation. Some would say the greatest that ever was. And... I had a few companions that were living on the mainland. I''d like to know what happened to them."


    "Ah well, good luck with your ventures, sir Magus. I wish you the best fortune. And when you need more bodies, you know where to come."


    Count Magus Montgomery Maldrak, mage of the First Order, scholar of the Avaris Myrcana Academy, Grand-Master puppeteer, and very curious gentleman, looked upon the three bodies he''d just purchased. These would be his key to uncovering why the great nation of Draya Calyrex had fallen.


    ***

 Maps

    Map of Draya Calyrex - Notably made several hundred years before the story starts, by early cartographers. The accuracy of this map is questionable


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    Map of the greater Yellowfields province of Draya Calyrex


    Map of the western region of the Yellowfields (This one has minor spoilers!)

 Chapter One - A Choice

    Chapter One - A Choice


    47th Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    The Sapphire Ocean


    "It''s active," a voice said. Soft, calm. It was... bored, perhaps, as if saying something that it had oft repeated.


    "I see," another said. This voice was deeper, more somber. "Check its vitals."


    There was movement, a limb being compressed, then pulled out, then moved again. Then others. Arms, legs, then the head was turned this way and that. "Seems nominal. Its core is reading normally. This is... a strange choice you''ve made, Magus."


    "It''s a choice that I made with all due consideration, Adeptus," the man said. "Sit her up."


    "Her?" the Adeptus asked.


    "We can offer them some consideration, can we not? The donor was a woman, and so we will be respectful. It costs nothing."


    "But the rest of this project costs much."


    "Hmm, indeed," the Magus replied with a hum.


    There was movement once more, the impression of being sat upright for a moment. More noises, and the voices came and receded. Then a long period of nothing.


    Finally, it snapped.


    Vision. Initially painful as though the dimly lit room was akin to staring into the blazing noon-day sun, but soon the brightness receded and the vision adjusted itself.


    It... she, looked around. Just moving her eyes. They didn''t shift smoothly, but instead snapped to the right, then to the left, before snapping back to the centre. In that moment, she managed to make out a few important details.


    She was in a room. One that felt like it was perhaps swaying ever so gently. Wooden walls and floors and a ceiling crossed by a few thick beams. The room was lit by several small lamps, glowing stones within iron cages.


    She wasn''t alone. The room was occupied by two others. A tall man, lithe and wearing a white apron over black robes, and a smaller woman, with pinched features and a pair of thick spectacles on the end of her nose.


    The woman leaned in, obscuring a view of a table covered in torturous implements. "Hello there, Unit Two."


    "Unit Two?" the man asked.


    "We need to name them something," the woman replied tersely. "Or would you rather an alphabetized naming system? Alpha Two? Unit Beta? It would limit us to twenty-six units if we don''t change the nomenclaturive system at a later date."


    "I''ll think of something," the man said. "It feels wrong to name something with a number. It makes it more of a tool."


    "Are they not?" the woman asked. She turned her attention back to Unit Two. "Run diagnostics," she ordered.


    There were several clunks within Unit Two, small motions that were felt rather than heard, then a warmth that started in the chest and raced down the arms and legs. A small, yellowish glow suffused the room for a moment.


    And then Unit Two started to blink. Her eyes opened and shut like shuttered, clacking in time to an unheard beat. There was precision in the motions. They were communicating something that the woman with the glasses clearly understood. She took notes.


    "Seems like this one is successful," she said. "Fewer issues than the first unit. And this one seems to have an affinity as well. Congratulations, Magus Maldrak. Two for two. Do we expect the third to do likewise?"


    "That would be charming, but I won''t push my luck so far," the man replied. So his name was Magus Maldrak. She made note of that, though... it felt like it was going to be hard to remember. Her memories were straws grasped on a windy day. Fleeting and quick to slip away.


    The two continued to move about her, and she tried to follow them with her gaze, eyes snapping towards any large motions they made. Neither seemed to mind, or even notice at first. The woman eventually looked up and met her gaze. "This one seems aware. As did the last. Is that a byproduct of their affinities?"


    "To some degree. It''s more likely that the quality of their construction lends itself to faster, smarter growth," the Magus replied. "The smartest people are often those raised in the most desirable conditions. Likewise for a puppet. Better quality means better results."


    "And greater cost, and fewer models," the woman continued. "The Wyrms have apparently sent thousands to the mainland."


    "And we will send three," Magus Maldrak replied. "And three will suffice. I believe we''re done with this one. Have one of the men bring it, her, to the storage room with the other. We''ll start on the third."


    The woman left, and soon the room was filled with two young men who came closer, grabbed her, and moved her bodily out of the room. She was brought into another, one with only a tiny round window on a far wall for illumination. The world outside was dark, a starlit sky above and little else for light.


    The room itself, however, wasn''t unoccupied. There were chests and containers strewn about, but what caught her eyes was another figure right next to her. She could only barely see it from the corner of her eye.


    When she looked, she discovered that the figure was gazing back at her. It was masked in the darkness. A shapeless form with only the glazed, reflective surface of a blue eye to show that there was someone there.


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    They were made of wood. A face carved from a single piece, mouth very slightly open, features that hinted at a vaguely feminine form without being too deep or careful.


    The body was a metal cage. Almost a small keg, with wooden lates across it and large metal joints for shoulders.


    The figure''s eye snapped away and towards the window after a moment.


    They sat there in almost absolute quiet, though there was the distant sound of soft waves lapping against woods, and the occasional shift in the stars as the room moved ever so slightly.


    It took several hours before the door opened.


    Another figure was brought in, carried by the same two young men, with hands around its armpits and knees.


    A doll. Or perhaps a large puppet. It was placed on the floor beneath the window, facing the two already present.


    It had the same barrel chest and carved face, though its eyes were a deep red.


    They stared at one another through the night. There was little else to do.


    In the morning, as the sun started to brighten the sky, the door into the room opened once more and one-by-one, the puppets were moved. They were returned to the laboratory and carefully set upon a table, sitting with their backs to the slightly curved wall so that they could face the interior of the room.


    One of the young men carrying them left and returned with a high-backed chair which he placed before them. And then the room was cleared once more.


    Now the only sound was the clicking of their eyes as they scanned the area, looking for anything of interest.


    It took some time, but a familiar man entered the room. The Magus.


    The man was dressed in fine black robes over a well-tailored suit. A cravat was cinched around his neck, pure white in the darkly lit room, and he moved with the simple grace of a man in his prime. He sat across from the three puppets, then regarded them each carefully for some time.


    "My name is Magus Montgomery Maldrak," he began, his voice a low baritone that echoed slightly in the room. It was a nice voice, she decided. "I am a mage and scholar of some repute. A member of a noble family of Oraya Lyscara and a student of the Avaris Myrcana Academy in the nation of Draya Calyrex. None of this will mean anything to you."


    He sat back and regarded them all for a moment more.


    "I believe in quality above all else. I believe in opportunity. I reward the one with the other whenever possible, and that approach to life has led me well so far. I would like to extend an offer to you."


    The Magus reached into his robes, then removed a trio of small glass bottles with cork stoppers. They held a milky white liquid. "This is an elixir commonly given to automata. It ensures blind loyalty and obedience. I do not enjoy employing it. Blind loyalty is foolhardy, and there are better ways of obtaining obedience."


    He took one of the bottles in his off hand and stared at it for a moment.


    "I am getting ahead of myself," he said before looking up once more and meeting each of their unblinking gazes. "You three were corpses very recently. Washed up and quite dead. I turned you into what you are now. Automata of some quality. Puppets, some would say. You have bodies that were crafted with little care, wrapped around cores and systems made by some of the best magical artisans in the world. You were given potential in the form of working bodies, and then drive in the form of amnesiac souls. You are not yet blank, however. You could be." He shook the bottle. "But I''d rather give you the choice."


    The Magus gestured past them, as if to the world outside.


    "There is an entire continent gone mad, a place where the living lose their minds, where magic has run wild, where one of the most powerful and prestigious civilisations known to history fell some short months ago. As a Magus and former resident of that land, I cannot allow myself to sit back and watch. I must know what happened and why. Others are scavenging the land already, like carrion birds on a fresh corpse. I do not care for the riches of the land. I care to know why it fell in the first place."


    He narrowed his eyes, though it wasn''t a threatening look.


    "All three of you were dead. Serve me, willingly and with loyalty, and I will give you a second chance, the likes of which most can only dream of having. I will give you a path to power, to redemption, to growth. I will reward your work and efforts on my behalf with more power, greater abilities, and strength enough to carry out my will across these blighted lands."


    He smiled, confident and sure of himself.


    "So, what say you, nameless ones? Dead who yet live? Will you join me?"


    She glanced to the side, to the other two. Did she want to join? She wasn''t sure. There was a lot she didn''t yet know, so much that she felt she should but couldn''t grasp. This man, the magus, seemed honest to her. She wasn''t sure if she wanted power, but-- the doll next to her nodded, and the other did the same a moment later.


    And so she nodded as well, accepting, for better or worse.


    ***

 Chapter Two - A Dragons Strength

    Chapter Two - A Dragon''s Strength


    48th Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    The Sapphire Ocean


    Maldrak stepped out of the captain''s cabin and out onto the ship''s deck. He was immediately hit by a wave of warm, humid air as soon as he crossed the threshold between the room and the outside.


    The Sapphire Ocean was known for being rather warm, especially in these parts where they were still out of sight of the mainland.


    Men were moving about the deck, some tending to the ship, adjusting the sails or mending some of the lines above. A small part of the crew were hanging off the side of the ship on wooden planks held up by long ropes. They were scraping barnacles off the hull. They were particularly tenacious around this part of the ocean, or so he had heard.


    Moving around and up to the quarter deck, Maldrak nodded to the helmsman and one of the ship''s officers who was discussing something with the man before moving on towards the poop deck at the very back.


    The Gentle Tidings had been his ship for some twelve years now. It was a three-masted carrack he had purchased from a merchant company that used to travel from Draya Calyrex to Oraya Lyscara and back. The very same trip they were embarked on at the moment.


    At the time, it had been something of an unnecessary purchase. The cost of upkeep and training and the docking fees was only barely worth the value in having a ship of his own to travel upon. Now, however? The cost of ships, he imagined, would have jumped up significantly, and maritime trade was going to be a contentious issue.


    Piracy was going to rise. He just knew it. But that would be an issue for the future. At the moment, the Sapphire Ocean was yet safe, and if it came to it, the Gentle Tidings had an entire cohort of mages aboard, and these weren''t common recent-graduates, but well-studied and capable masters of the arcane arts.


    Pirates wouldn''t be an issue for very long.


    He found that especially true as he stepped up the small tilted ladder onto the poop deck.


    "How goes it?" he asked.


    There was a broad-shouldered man standing there, his shirt removed so that he was merely in trousers, a fact that exposed his well-muscled frame to the elements.


    He was covered in sweat at the moment, though it didn''t seem to come from exertion. Around him were the three puppets they''d only finished the day prior. They laid on the ground, only one of them trying and failing to stand itself back up.


    "Maldrak," the man said. "It''s certainly going. These three are as coordinated as inebriated ostriches and only half as graceful."


    Maldrak nodded. He had expected as much. "Do they have any potential?"


    Jorvin Ashheel was a mage-knight of some small amount of repute who had come to be in Maldrak''s service a few years ago as a retainer. The man was a capable caster, though his passion lay in the martial arts and applying his arcane knowledge to those. It made him a formidable knight, though he was now more white of hair than he had once been.


    "Too early to truly tell," Jorvin replied. He gestured to the one puppet standing itself back up. It had a small Three carved onto its chest. "That one is tenacious. The other two are taking longer to tell their elbows and knees apart. They''re worse than war dolls would be."


    "Hm, I suppose that was a risk that comes with the particular way these were created," Maldrak said.


    "Most war dolls I''ve seen aren''t exactly graceful, but they can at least walk and stab a spear forwards," Jorvin said. "What''s up with these three?"


    "They have more complex minds and souls. To leave such unshackled means to forgo some of the... base programming that the mass-produced war dolls you may have seen are usually given. And war dolls are usually crafted from the body of the deceased directly. These three have very little of their original bodies left. It''s nearly all artifice."


    "What''s the advantage?" Jorvin asked. "I''ve never known you to pick the worst option unless there''s something others don''t know."


    "It''s not an unknown fact. Puppets created in this way must learn to move on their own, but they aren''t limited to the strict mechanical motions of a war puppet. They may be worse, or they may grow to be better. Give them some time and they may even learn some of those martial arts you enjoy so much."


    Jorvin snorted. "I''ll see about that," he said.


    "I hope you shall," Maldrak replied with an easy smile. He glanced eastwards, towards where the mainland would be showing up soon. "We have another few days before we encounter the shore."


    "They can barely walk," Jorvin replied. "It''ll be a waste of resources to send them out as they are."


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    "I have some plans with regards to that," Maldrak replied.


    "Oh?" Jorvin replied. He narrowed his eyes, then turned his attention back to the puppets. "You''re going to allow them to collect fragments?"


    Maldrak smiled. Jorvin was a keen man, no matter how brutish he might seem to some. "Exactly."


    "Dangerous," Jorvin replied.


    "I trust that it will end well," Maldrak returned easily. "With that in mind... are there any concerns with the puppets at the moment?"


    Jorvin rubbed at his chin. "They''re clumsy, but we''ll have to see if they improve in that regard. My biggest concern is their fragility. They''re made of wood. I''ve seen some war puppets at certain palaces that were made of good dragon-wrought steel. Golems that can take a knight on in a fair fight. These three? A farmer with a fork could pin one of these to the deck with no issue."


    "A fair point," Maldrak replied. "These bodies are temporary."


    "Is that wise? They will learn to move with these, and then you''ll give them greater bodies?"


    "I first need them to prove a point," Maldrak replied. "Or rather, to prove their worth."


    Jorvin shook his head. "Hardly fair. You''re sending a squire out to defeat a dragon with nothing but a stick and a pat on the back and promise to give them armour and a spear if they live through it."


    "Not a dragon, no," Maldrak said. "I have a challenge planned out for these three. Something suitably easy. If they overcome that, then I''ll improve them. They will, in a way, scale their improvements based on what they can accomplish."


    Jorvin hummed. "That''s a lot of pressure. Are you certain that we wouldn''t be better served making landfall ourselves?"


    Maldrak hummed, then shook his head. "Wait here a moment," he replied.


    The Magus left the poop deck, returning all the way to the main deck where he soon found himself speaking to the officer on deck. Soon, a bucket was lowered off the side. A few moments later, it was raised up, filled with half a dozen barnacles.


    He inspected these, then nodded and plucked one out before strolling back up to the rear of the ship where Jorvin had stood the three puppets back onto their feet. They swayed a little, and when he signalled them to move, the three stumbled in his direction.


    The man ducked under a wild swing, kicked the leg of the first puppet down, spun, grabbed the arm of the second, and pulled it into the third who tried to keep her feet but who inevitably crashed onto the deck.


    "Martial arts already? I expected you to start with something simpler," Maldrak said.


    "You gave me leave to train them, and that''s what I''ll do. Besides, what would be simpler than this?" Jorvin asked. "It''s not as though they tire, or feel pain."


    "I thought, perhaps, walking?" Maldrak asked.


    Jorvin chuckled. "Nah. Learn to run first, I say. Is that a barnacle?"


    "It is," Maldrak replied. "Sit the puppets up, they may want to observe this."


    Jorvin had the puppets stand back up, a task which seemed difficult for all three. Staying up was just as much of a challenge, though they managed for now.


    "This is a simple barnacle if examined by an untrained eye," Maldrak said as he raised the rocky lump. "But this one has fed on dragon flesh. Now, it''s dragon flesh a thousand times removed. Likely this is a barnacle that has fed on some detritus that washed into the ocean, or perhaps a tiny piece of the flesh of a fish that ate the remains of an animal that ate another animal that in turn ate the remains of a dragon. Dragon flesh has a particular magic that allows it to... survive throughout the chain of life, no matter how many times it is digested and redigested."


    "How tenacious," Jorvin replied. "I imagined that that particular barnacle would be a poor meal, then?"


    Maldrak nodded and observed the barnacle. Its shell was harder, very slightly warped, but also scaled to some small degree. A cancerous growth was pushing out of its side, and it seemed to weep. His arcane senses painted it as something vulgar and putrid. "Indeed," he replied. "But when it is destroyed..."


    The Magus summoned flame, and the barnacle lit up into a small blaze of contained fire. What was left after a bare moment was a small blackened puck that the Magus tossed over the side. He plucked something out of the air. A small, translucent thing, no bigger than a down feather, and a thousand times as wispy.


    "This is a fragment of a dragon''s strength. It is what made the nation we are going to visit so obscenely powerful, because most living things consumed these with every meal and breath. This, here, is power, and I intend to allow these puppets to consume it and use this same power to transform into something more."


    ***

 Chapter Three - No Questions

    Chapter Three - No Questions


    49th Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    The Sapphire Ocean


    She sat between her companions, though remaining seated wasn''t an easy affair. She lacked a posterior to sit upon, and so the back of her... body rested directly upon the wooden bench they''d been assigned to that morning.


    The curved wooden barrel that was her torso had a tendency to roll slightly, and so she was holding herself in place with her legs caught on the legs of the table. Fortunately, the table was bolted to the floor.


    The three of them were in the ship''s mess, a large but narrow room with three long tables flanked on all sides by benches. The kitchen was just further in, and an elderly man was tending to something on the stove.


    The sailors had come for their morning meals and left already. They had been eyed the whole time, but other than one or two inquisitive questions, they''d been left alone. Not being able to talk was... surprisingly frustrating.


    She felt like she had a lot to say, but her ability to communicate was rendered down to simple nods and shakes of the head, with perhaps a gesture or two.


    The two puppets next to her were in a similar position.


    She knew that one of them was Unit One, and the other Unit Two, but those names felt far too weak. She''d taken to calling them Red and Blue. The barrels around their chests had the faded remains of paint in those same colours. Her own had a bit of green.


    She wondered what her chest had been, before it was turned into the receptacle for her very being.


    A woman stepped into the mess, the same mage she recalled seeing at the moment of her creation. The woman wore long, darkly coloured robes that were open at the front to reveal well-tailored but otherwise simple clothes. The only thing of true note in her clothing was a sort of jousting shield over the right side of her chest. It was held in place by a few leather straps. It was a small kite-shield, no wider than a handspan and covered in intricate carvings of a blue dragon wrapped around a single tree.


    She had no idea what that meant, but the symbology seemed important.


    "Ah, you''re here," the woman said. She nodded, then sat herself down across from the puppets. The mage glanced around the room to catch sight of any eavesdroppers, then she reached down and pulled a small satchel onto the table. "Magus Maldrak has asked me to guide the three of you through some basic lessons. I find that this is a difficult thing to be asked to do. I''ve avoided teaching, though I did participate in some group projects at the academy I attended." She leaned back a little, eyeing the three of them. "I''ve never had students with so little base knowledge."


    Shrugging, the magus reached into the satchel and started to pull out a few items.


    "Magus Maldrak had two lessons he wanted me to impart. The first about the location we will soon be arriving at, the second about the arcane arts."


    The blue puppet shifted with a clack of wood on wood.


    The woman looked up, then smiled. "Interested, are you? Magus Maldrak didn''t have much to say about who you were before, or who you might have been. But I imagine that anyone who has delved deeply enough into the arcane will have some amount of that delve marked upon their very souls. Perhaps you were some minor practitioner before? Ah, it matters little. Let''s begin with this."


    She pulled out a small tube made of some sort of pressed tin with a cap on the end. Unscrewing the cap revealed a rolled up piece of thick parchment that the magus placed upon the table. She ran her hand over it, laying it out flat.


    It was a map.


    "Do you know how to read maps?" she asked.


    The puppets took a moment to reply, but eventually all three nodded. She wasn''t sure how she knew, but she did. It was similar to knowing how to read, she supposed. It might have been the same with knowledge of how to move, but this new body was jointed strangely and balanced incorrectly.


    "Hmm, that won''t do. Put your hands on the table. Left hand is no, right hand is yes," the magus instructed.


    The puppets all placed their hands on the table, though it took a moment.


    She didn''t like looking at hers. They were ugly things.


    Their palms were all puck-shaped disks of wood, obviously hollow on the interior so that the mechanisms that controlled their individual fingers had a place to fit. They had three fingers on each hand, and a thumb that could pinch in and out. The fingers were only articulated at their middle, unlike a human hand which had a second join near the end. Grabbing anything was a challenge, one only made harder by the lack of skin.


    "So, do you know how to read maps?" she asked.


    All of them raised their right hands.


    Then the green-barreled puppet brought her hand even higher up and pointed as best she could at the Magus.


    The woman blinked, then her brow knit together. "Is this a misunderstanding?" she asked. "Or are you trying to ask a question?"


    She lowered her hand onto the table, then raised it back up.


    "That''s a yes. I can''t imagine discovering what your question is when all I have to work with is a binary would be easy," she said. "Is it a question about the lesson, or is it a personal question?"


    The green puppet tapped the table twice.


    "The latter. About me?"


    She raised her right hand.


    "Well, that narrows it down somewhat. Does it pertain to the lesson?"


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    She raised her left.


    "In that case, it matters little, does it? You''ve lost my interest. From here on out, only raise your hands to answer questions I may pose, understood?"


    Reluctantly, she raised her right hand.


    "Hmph, very well. Keep in mind that you will soon have the ability to speak. We can''t expect you to carry out the Magus''s will without being able to communicate. What use is there in a scout that can''t relay what they''ve discovered? In any case, this map is of the Yellowfield region of Draya Calyrex."


    The map pictured a large region that featured several plateaus and an in-land lake of some decent proportions near its middle. The shore stretched on for some ways next to an area marked out as the Sapphire Ocean. There were markers for several settlements on the map, including a large one along the shore and more deeper within. These were usually along the sides of large rivers that seemed to flow down along the length of the plateaus in the region.


    "This area is the one where we will be making our landfall. It''s our hope that the Yellowfields will be the area least impacted by the dragonplague." She tapped a part of the shoreline some distance away from the city along the coast. "This is where Magus Maldrak intends for us to stop."


    The puppets all leaned in a little closer, their eyes clicking down as far as they could go to better observe the map.


    "This is the town of Shorefarm. It''s a small, unnoteworthy settlement that housed some few hundred peasants and was ruled over by a lesser lordling. I suspect that your task on making it to land will be to clear the town and its surroundings of any threats."


    She allowed them to stare for a moment longer. Shorefarm seemed like little more than a blip on the map, not something that drew much attention.


    "We don''t know what to expect on arrival, but... if there are any survivors, they will have been maddened by grief. It is safe to say that little humanity will remain amongst them. I believe that your primary task will be securing the docks and seaside village next to Shorefarm, as well as a local mine."


    She rerolled the map suddenly and tucked it away.


    "Others will cover the details better than I can. I am an arcanist, not a tactician. What I do know, and what I intend to teach you today, is magic."


    She pulled out two small objects from her satchel and placed them on the table. One was a ring, made of a golden material and created in the likeness of a coiling dragon. The other was a short stick of carefully carved wood.


    "There are, broadly speaking, two kinds of magic. These are the arcane arts and the draconic arts. I am a Magus, and am therefore an arcane wizard. The magic I practice draws from both the power within myself, and the raw essence of the world around me. This is a limited resource that only replenishes itself slowly. Arcane Wizardry is a structured, intellectual pursuit of magic, relying on study, discipline, and the manipulation of universal laws. Practitioners draw power from the world itself, weaving complex spells through the use of symbols, formulas, and rituals. This magic is detached from the land''s draconic history, instead focusing on timeless principles that govern reality."


    She flicked the little wand, and a sparkle of bluish lights appeared on its end and fluttered through the air.


    "Wizards spend years perfecting their craft, and their power lies in their ability to adapt and innovate. They wield tools like grimoires, staffs, and magical artifacts to channel their energy, relying on precise incantations and well-crafted spells. This form of magic is often seen as clean, elegant, and versatile, in contrast to the raw, instinctual nature of dragon affinity magic."


    She picked up the ring next. "Draconic magic, or dragon affinity magic, is a primal and deeply personal form of power, drawn from the lingering essence of the great dragons that once ruled the land. Each dragon''s affinity¡ªwhether fire, frost, storm, shadow, or another force of nature¡ªserves as a unique wellspring of magic. Practitioners tap into these energies through ancient rites, meditations, or by invoking the dragon''s name in their spells. More often than not, they need access to the actual essence of that dragon, be it food grown from dragon-fertilized soil or a discarded scale piece or something that the dragon used their essence upon."


    She raised the ring and frowned deeply for some time before a tiny spurt of flame came out of the dragon''s mouth. It was no longer than a fingertip, and flickered like a candle in the wind.


    "This magic doesn''t require actual worship but relies on an understanding of the dragon''s essence and a willingness to align oneself with its raw power. Those who truly revere a dragon or its ideals might find their magic amplified, but even skeptics can wield this force by channeling it through relics, bloodlines, or sites of draconic significance. This magic often has a visceral, elemental quality, and the caster''s body can bear subtle marks of the dragon''s influence, like glowing veins or scaled skin. This magic isn''t more versatile than a wizard''s... but it is undeniably more powerful with significantly less effort necessary to achieve greater power."


    The woman glanced at them all.


    "Any questions?"


    Three right hands rose.


    "Ah... well, these will have to wait. I''m a busy woman and I don''t have time to play games. I''ve done as Maldrak asked, and you''ll have to be satisfied with that."


    ***

 Chapter Four - A Demonstration

    Chapter Four - A Demonstration


    50th Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    The Sapphire Ocean


    "Land ahoy! Land ahoy!"


    Magus Maldrak glanced up from the tome he was reading. The sky outside of the porthole in his office was still the pale orange of early morning, having only just risen some scant minutes prior.


    Standing, the Magus pressed a hand to the small of his back. He wasn''t an old man yet, but sometimes his knees and lower back reminded him that years spent in secluded study weren''t kind to one''s health.


    Pushing past the mild discomfort, he plucked his robes from the back of a chair and threw them on, then ensured that they fit correctly, with his shield of station emblazoned over his right shoulder and his inner pockets filled with nasty presents for anyone who sought to push him.


    Leaving the office, he made his way through the narrow corridors of the Gentle Tidings and onto the main deck of the ship. The sailors in his employ were busily preparing for an eventual landfall and he noticed a few hanging from the ropes above, telescopes out to scan the horizon for trouble.


    Walking to the port side of the ship, he stood by the railing for several long minutes before finally making out the faint brown of distant land. It could have been a mirage still, but he trusted the man in the crow''s nest above.


    "Magus," Jorvin said as he came up to Maldrak''s side.


    "Jorvin," Maldrak replied. He turned and nodded to the steely-eyed young man next to the mage-knight. "Captain Fernthorn, a good morning to you."


    "A good morn indeed, sir Magus," the captain replied with a nod. "It seems as though we''ve made it to the mainland. If only this trip were like our previous."


    Maldrak let out a long sigh. "Indeed. If only. I noticed few ships along our path, but I''ll admit that I''m no eagle-eyed sailor."


    "Your mage eyes didn''t deceive you, sir," the captain said. "We crossed a merchantman yesterday afternoon, and a caravel in the same evening. I didn''t think to inform you. Forgive me if I erred."


    "No, I didn''t ask for such information. Thank you for sating my curiosity. Would you say that traffic is significantly lighter?"


    "Significantly so, sir," the captain replied. "I recall seeing entire flotillas heading to and from the mainland leaden with riches. And this close to land? We ought to have seen at least one patrol ship from the Draya Calyrex navy. Anti-piracy patrols and shows of force were common enough. But we''re within sight of the mainland and there has yet to be anything. Not even a fishing sloop."


    "Then the rumours are true, and I wasn''t misled here," Maldrak said.


    "Is that good?" Jorvin asked.


    Maldrak considered it, then shook his head. "I''d rather I had been lied to all this time and discover that someone pulled the wool over my eyes, that some great treachery was afoot, than discover that this truth is true. I... have many ties to this land. And now I can''t help but imagine them all lost."


    Jorvin nodded. He wasn''t a man of Draya Calyrex, but he could certainly sympathize with the loss of so many lives.


    "So, now what? Still planning on letting those puppets of yours step foot on the mainland first?" Jorvin asked.


    "I have several brave men who might volunteer for such a task," the captain said.


    "The puppets first. They will be resistant to any blight and can return samples for the arcanists and alchemists we have onboard to study. If you judge them capable enough, Sir Jorvin?"


    The mage-knight rubbed at his chin. "Barely. They can certainly walk about and pluck flowers, but if it comes to combat, then they will lose to a farmhand with a pitchfork. I would put even odds on a particularly aggressive crab beating them one on one."


    "Hah," Maldrak said. "Then let''s change that, shall we. Captain, when will we be nearing Shorefarm?"


    "By nightfall, Magus," the captain replied. "At the earliest. Without anyone operating the lighthouses along the shore, it may be until morning. The Gentle Tidings isn''t a ship designed for areas without a deep shore."


    "I see," Maldrak replied. "Let''s make good time if we can, and if not, morning it will be. The puppets cannot see in the dark in any case. Jorvin, can you fetch the three of them and bring them to the poop deck for me? And if you see Artisan Artificer Magus Woodbone, can you inform him that I''d like his attention in the same place?"


    "Aye, can do," Jorvin replied. He nodded to the captain before heading off.


    "Captain, a minor favour, if you would," Maldrak said.


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    "I''m all yours, sir," the captain replied.


    "If any of your men are particularly good at fishing, could you allow them to try to catch something local for me? I need a fish of some largess. Preferably a few, within the hour. Let the men know that a large catch means a copper coin or two."


    The captain chuckled. "Then we''ll have a competition. I imagine that the fish won''t be edible."


    "No. Best to avoid such risks for now. Let the men know to avoid drinking any water as well. The risks of contamination are low, but not nonexistent. Not that I expect them to swallow much sea water in any case."


    "They aren''t quite so foolish as that, no," the captain replied.


    Maldrak patted the man on the shoulder. "Keep an eye on the horizon for me, captain. And good work so far. I''ll see to my business for now."


    "Aye, Sir Magus."


    With that done, the Magus glanced one final time out across the ocean. The tiny sliver of land in the far distance might have grown a little, though it was hard to tell. They were sailing almost parallel to it, so it would take some time for the mainland in its entirety to become visible.


    In the meantime, he walked up to the rear of the ship and found a seat along the ship''s railing. The temperature was a little chilly, but it was still early in spring. The Magus tugged his robes closer and considered the worth of applying magic to the task of keeping the chill at bay.


    Eventually, he created a small circle in the air with a twirl of a gloved hand and his magic filled it with a few simple arcane symbols. These glowed brighter for a moment as they activated, and the poop deck was suddenly encapsulated in a thin bubble that was only strong enough to prevent the harsher wind from entering.


    Jorvin soon appeared, walking up to the deck with the three puppets clambering along behind him. "Found these three waiting in the mess," he said. "I think someone forgot them there. Too bad. I might have had them walk the decks all night to train their mobility otherwise."


    "They have no muscles, you know," Maldrak replied.


    "Ah, but they do need practice nonetheless," was the mage-knight''s reply. "I saw the artisan. He''s on his way, though you know as well as I how he is about punctuality."


    "That''s well and good," Maldrak replied before he eyed the puppets. "Perhaps a little more training is in order in the meantime?"


    "Hmph, I suppose so. Come on, form a line you three. We''ll be practicing with these today." The man pulled out a few wooden sticks from the crook of his arm. They had ropes bound around them and a small semblance of a guard on one end around a simple handle. They were a little short to be considered swords, but too long to be daggers.


    "You''re training them in the short sword?" Maldrak asked.


    "It''s a better alternative than anything heavier and more cumbersome," Jorvin replied. "I''d rather train them in the spear and shield, if time is so limited, but that can come later. I''m assuming we''ll have some time on dry land to train?"


    "Some, luck willing," Maldrak said. "The short sword will do for now. I believe we have some to spare in our armoury in any case. We certainly have some daggers."


    "Figured as much," Jorvin said.


    He gave each of the puppets a sword and then had them shift from a standing position into a fighter''s stance. It wasn''t something Maldrak himself was well familiar with, so he watched with some passing curiosity as Jorvin had them move through a few set forms. The man had the semblance of someone with no patience, but the Magus suspected that to be false.


    Jorvin would demonstrate, then have them repeat the gestures and movements he did, often explaining why the motions were important. There was much talk about centres of gravity and footwork, as well as striking edges and the like.


    After nearly half an hour had passed, the man shifted to sparring with the puppets one at a time.


    It was around then that the captain arrived followed by a few men carrying three rather large fish. Living ones, bound by ropes. Maldrak indicated for them to place them off to the side, and handed out a few copper coins to the captain, to be given to the sailors.


    Sharing wealth often led to some amount of easy loyalty with the simpler sort of man, he found, and this was as good a time as any to be generous.


    It was then that the Artisan Artificer arrived, accompanied by a younger man.


    "Looks like it''s time to test some things," Maldrak said before he focused upon the puppets. "Come now, stand to attention, we''re about to show you something rather interesting."


    ***

 Chapter Five - An Essence

    Chapter Five - An Essence


    50th Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    The Sapphire Ocean


    The green puppet shifted slightly. She''d seen lots of people, humans that was, gathering in one place before, but so many of them focused on her and the other puppets felt a little off putting. A flick of her eyes to the side revealed Blue was standing at attention, but was otherwise impassive, and a click to the other side showed Red fidgeting slightly.


    She couldn''t truly communicate with the others, but that didn''t mean she didn''t get a sense for their personalities.


    The blue puppet was often aloof and quiet. She''d step back and sit down more often, and of the three, seemed the most easily accepting of long stretches of silence.


    Red was very much the opposite in many ways. She moved constantly. When they were placed in that cupboard for the night, she spent it walking in circles and occasionally threw out a quick punch or two.


    Green tried to interact with Blue, but without being able to talk... it was complicated. Red was easier to entertain. At some point they''d found some cord and the two had played the world''s clumsiest game of cat''s cradle for a few hours, at least until the cord got tangled in one of Red''s finger joints and it had to be cut out.


    "So, how are these three faring so far?" one of the strange new people asked.


    He was a shorter man, perhaps ten or twenty years Magus Maldrak''s senior. He didn''t have that straight-backed imposing aura that the Magus had, but something told her that he was still a powerful individual. His hair was a tangled mess of white, and like the other magic-users she''d seen, he had a sort of shield over his right armpit. His had a pair of small green dragons coiled around a tree made of gears and pistons.


    The same symbol was on the shield of the young man next to him. He had some familial resemblance to the older mage, the same sharp brown eyes, the same jawline, and the same unruly hair, though the younger''s were all black still.


    "They''re living up to expectation, Magus Woodbone," Maldrak replied.


    "Pft, I doubt that," the man, Magus Woodbone, said. "These bodies are trash. No offence, Brian my boy."


    "None taken," the younger man said. "They''re what I had on hand. The pattern they''re based on is older than I am by several decades, even. It''s functional, at least."


    "Hmph," Magus Woodbone said. He gestured at the three puppets. "Up, up. Stand up tall, the three of you. You might not look it, in those casks and twigs that my son slapped together, but the three of you are something special. Made your cores myself, and I''ll have you know that I''m something special too."


    "Your confidence in oneself has always inspired awe, Artificer Magus Woodbone," Maldrak said.


    The older gentleman snorted at that. "At my age, it''s less confidence and more certainty. Not that I''ll be the best forever. Some youth will catch up, cheating on all the knowledge I spilled in my wake, and then they''ll surpass me. Same as I did in my day. Now, I imagine these fish are here for a reason?"


    Green had to admit she was curious about that as well. She didn''t have a nose to smell with, but she imagined that the three rather large, very much still alive fish, must have smelled interesting.


    "I was hoping that you could assist the puppets here in discovering how the system you created functions," Magus Maldrak said.


    "I created? More like I stole," Woodbone said. "Cannibalized, if we''re being crass about it. I have to protest having such artwork shoved in such crude frames."


    "It''s part of my process," Maldrak replied. "You know how I like to do things by now."


    "And yet I still question it," the man shot back.


    Maldrak gave him a tiny bow, little more than a dip of his shoulders and back. "And your prodigious skill and expertise allows you to get away with it."


    "Hah! At least you''re not pretending to be anything more than drinking companions," Woodbone said. He licked his lips and looked to the three puppets in turn. "Now, we''ll see if you three have the intellect to deserve the tools you''ve been given. Along with control over your limbs, there should be a control to open your chests. It''s a control in two parts. Like unhinging a jaw in the middle of your torso that was never there before. Open the first part now."


    Green wished she could blink. The instruction was basically nonsensical. A jaw in her chest?


    There was a clunk to her side, and she turned slightly to see that Blue''s chest had opened slightly. A piece of the wood at the front had slid down about a finger''s width.


    Looking down at her own chest, she focused on the feeling. If Blue could do it...


    It took her all of a minute of increasingly frustrating searching, but eventually she felt the right... twinge. It was like moving a limb she had never been aware of.


    A slab of the wood at the front of her chest shifted down with a click, and she was able to see into her chest. Not very far. There was a device there, a sort of counter. Nine tiny wheels, with zeroes across the majority. The last few had numbers on them. Currently they sat at Nine and Four.


    94. She wondered what it meant. And why so many zeroes before?


    The artificer checked on Blue, then on her. He wasn''t very gentle with his touch, grabbing her barrel chest and moving it down to peer at the counter.


    "Hmm, come on, you, figure it out," he said to Red before turning to Maldrak. "Tell me you''ve named them. And not something foolish like A, B and C."


    "Not yet," Maldrak replied. "I think a nascent soul like this ought to name itself. Though I''ll admit to some level of disappointment if they pick names that are too crass or simple."


    "Hmph," Woodbone said. "Fair enough. Ah, there you go." Red''s chest had finally clicked down. "The counter you see within is a measurement of the vitality of your core. Not its physical health, mind. To know that you''d need to give it a look. Rather, it''s the potency of the essence you''ve consumed. Magus Maldrak here, the sly devil, has created means by which to turn essence into strength. How that strength grows will be up to you. It will mold itself to you, permeate your core and bodies, grow your magical might, and make you... more. In the same way that dragon''s essence has done for the people of Draya Calyrex for generations."


    He stepped back, then glanced at Sir Jorvin and his son.


    "Lay out those fish in a row, would you? And give them a good whack. It doesn''t matter if they die, but living ones will give more."


    The men did as he asked without question, though the younger man''s face twisted in distaste at handling the fish. They were strange things, with several growths along their bodies and the start of what seemed almost like wings on some of their backs. Their scales were too large as well, jutting out of their flesh at incorrect angles and seeming to leave rough scars behind.


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    "Now, you three, yet unnamed. The muscle that opens your chest is twofold. The next is like flexing an elbow. This part should be easier now that you''ve mastered the first."


    Red''s chest exploded open with a heavy clunk, and Green stepped back from it.


    Where the front panel had slid down, it had now twisted to the side, revealing a large opening. A device had slung itself out of that opening. A long needle, a piece of thick glassware, and several small copper pipes.


    The needle''s tip was large enough to fit a pinkie within, and the entire device seemed designed to pierce into flesh and suck something out.


    Green hesitated, but she found the muscle in question and flexed it. Her chest opened, a strange and uncomfortable feeling, and the needle-tipped device came out.


    "That," Woodbone explained. "Is a soul siphon. A device that is quite illegal in these parts, though what laws remain to stop us? Hm? Its purpose is twofold. To extract the living essence from the dead or near-dead, and to purify it of its draconic taint. The latter it is not fully efficient at, but we have ways of remedying any... foreseeable issues. Kill the fish."


    The order came so suddenly that it took her a moment to process it. Not so for Red.


    Red surged forward, her limbs moving with an almost frantic urgency as she got on all fours. The foot-long needle of her siphon plunged into the side of the nearest fish, and Green could hear the squelch of flesh and the faint hiss of air escaping. The fish twitched violently, its gills flaring and its grotesque, oversized scales catching the dim light. Red''s siphon hissed as it drew something in, and the counter on her chest ticked upward: 95, 96, 97... eventually it stopped a 112.


    Green hesitated, her gaze flicking to Blue. Blue had stepped closer to her fish but hadn''t moved to act. Green felt an odd flicker of shame, though whether it was for her hesitation or Blue''s calm, she couldn''t tell.


    "Don''t dawdle," Woodbone snapped. "Essence waits for no one, not even the hesitant. If you take too long, you''ll lose the full potency."


    Green forced herself to act. Her siphon extended fully, the needle gleaming in the strange light. She knelt by the fish nearest her and pressed the needle against its side. The fish spasmed, its life ebbing away as her siphon hissed to life. Her counter ticked up. 94. Then 95. Finally, 110.


    There was no blood, no viscera, just the slow draining of something unseen yet undeniably vital. When she withdrew her siphon, the fish lay still, its oversized scales dull and lifeless.


    Blue finally moved, stepping gracefully to the last fish. There was no hesitation in her actions, just deliberate precision. Her siphon extended and pierced the fish''s side as if she''d done it a hundred times before. Her counter ticked upward, settling at 98.


    "Well," Woodbone said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "That wasn''t so hard, was it? You''ve all taken your first step into becoming more than the crude frames you wear."


    Green stepped back, retracting her siphon and closing her chest. The feeling was strange, like folding a part of herself away.


    "Good," Maldrak said, breaking the moment. "They''ve proven capable. Now, let''s move on to the next step. This is something you will find yourselves unable to do on your own, not without the help of an experienced Magus or a talented Artificer. Though I suppose you could learn either skills yourselves. Step forward you. Yes, you seemed the most eager." He had gestured to Red.


    Red stepped forwards. Her siphon was still extended. She seemed careful, almost worried.


    The artificer didn''t waste time. With a flick of his wrist, he gestured for Brian, who handed him a small, cylindrical device. It pulsed faintly, glowing with engraved runes. Woodbone turned it in his hands once, then pressed it firmly against Red''s siphon.


    The device hissed, and with a quick, mechanical sound, it extracted a small vial of glowing liquid from the vial on her siphon. The liquid swirled, iridescent and alive, as Woodbone held it up to the light.


    "Essence, raw and unrefined," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "It''s the lifeblood of this process. Now watch."


    Brian handed him a second, small contraption¡ªcompact yet intricate, covered in softly glowing runes and faint etchings of dragons. With practiced ease, he slotted the vial into the machine. A low hum filled the air as the essence within the vial began to swirl faster, its glow intensifying. Within seconds, the hum faded, and Woodbone retrieved the vial. The liquid now shimmered brighter, its color more vibrant.


    "Purified essence," Woodbone said, holding the vial aloft for all to see. "Refined for maximum potency."


    Without hesitation, he returned to Red and with a few deft motions inside her chest, opened the entire front of her body up.


    Green stared for a moment. Their chests were little more than barrels but within... was a complex array of small metal devices, linked together by small pipes and tubes. There were several small vials as well, but the core was what drew her attention.


    It was a small thing, no bigger than a closed fist, made of gold with several interwoven bands of silver around it. It glowed, faintly, from the inside.


    The artificer connected the purified vial to a small nozzle clearly designed for the task, and the glowing liquid was quickly emptied away into the network of pipes.


    The core glowed brighter for a moment, then faded.


    Red''s frame trembled briefly for just a moment, but it settled soon enough.


    Woodbone closed her up, moving with the casual ease of someone who''d done this a thousand times. "Let''s see what you can do," he said simply.


    "Get into the first form," Jorvin snapped, and Red was quick to stumble over to their practice sword and move into formation.


    They sparred. Green watched. She... wasn''t sure if Red was better. Perhaps a tiny bit smoother, a little faster? She went down rapidly enough when Sir Jorvin decided it.


    "What say you?" Maldrak asked.


    "I say that there might be some improvement, but maybe a fish''s worth of that purified essence of yours doesn''t seem to add up to much," the mage-knight said.


    "Bah. That tiny morsel was nothing. Give them the essence of an army and you''ll see something truly incredible," Woodbone said.


    Maldrak nodded, his eyes sharp as he turned to Green and Blue. "Your turn," he said.


    ***

 Chapter Six - A Village on the Shore

    Chapter Six - A Village on the Shore


    51st Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    The Sapphire Ocean


    Maldrak squinted at the shoreline. They''d approached it deep into the night, and he''d made the choice to order the sailors to work with as few lights as possible. The Gentle Tidings had approached without navigation lights and only the bare necessity on the main deck.


    It had been a cloudless night with a waning gibbous moon, more than enough to see by.


    The captain had obeyed, though he warned that their approach would be much slower. Stealth was one thing. Hitting the rocky shore of the western mainland due to lack of caution was another.


    Still, now that the sun was starting to rise, Maldrak felt like the choice had been appropriate.


    They were sailing past the estuary in the lower part of the Yellowfield plateaus. It was where a city called Viremontis sat. It was one of the two largest cities in the area, a large trading hub that had grown quite substantially in the last century as one of the largest ports in the world.


    The city was aflame at the moment. Unnatural columns of green and blue smoke rose from behind the tall walls protecting it from the shore, and the myriad docks and piers jutting out into the ocean around the estuary had collapsed. The long skeletal masts of ships stuck out of the waters of the port.


    It seemed as though several had been sunk by the mouth of the bay, and he suspected that if they tried to approach themselves their own vessel might join those in the depths.


    And so they moved on past, continuing northbound for the first few hours of the morning. Shorefarm was their destination still. It was an hour''s ride by fast ship from the town to the city, winds and waves willing.


    "Magus?"


    He blinked bleary eyes and turned to find a familiar sight. The young magus who had been assisting him with the puppets recently. "Magus Suffragus Nocthorn, I bid you good morning."


    "And to you as well, Magus Arch-Magister Maldrak. Have you slept at all?" she asked.


    It was an impertinent question to ask, and the sarcasm in her use of his full title wasn''t missed, but Maldrak restrained himself from chastising the young woman. She had potential, else he wouldn''t have brought her along. She was the most senior of the junior mages aboard the vessel at the moment. And... she was correct to question him in this case.


    "I''m afraid not. I''ve cast a revitalization spell upon myself."


    "I believe the magisters at my academy warned every mage not to use those as a replacement for sleep. Usually after the first student of the semester fainted from exhaustion mid-lesson when their cast ran dry," she said.


    He smiled faintly. "I remember hearing that as a student myself, and saying it as a magister. Usually while under the effects of the same. Academic life is oft about long nights, isn''t it?"


    "Yes, but we''re not in the hallowed halls of an academy, or in the safety of a wizard''s tower," she said. "You need sleep, sir."


    He sighed. "Soon. Once the puppets have gone ashore. They won''t be able to report back for some time, so I''ll have nothing better to do but rest. There are spells to induce sleep as well. Or perhaps I shall take a drop of fur lily tincture to aid me in sleeping."


    "That was also something we were warned about, sir," she replied. The young woman shook her head, then crossed one arm over her chest as she looked out to the shore. "We''re getting close. Are those puppets truly ready?"


    "No, not yet. Would you mind bringing them here? I believe it''s time to activate some of their more advanced features."


    The young magus nodded, dropped her arm, and gave him a short bow before leaving. She swayed easily with the motions of the deck as he watched her depart.


    "Ah, to be so youthful," he muttered. Though in his mind, he was glad that this sort of disaster had never occurred in his youth. There would be many young souls spent trying to recover the mainland while older, wiser souls remained behind and reaped the benefits.


    He was, therefore, an oddity, an old soul so close to the centre of the disaster itself.


    Well, perhaps not so old.


    The young magus returned with the three puppets in tow. It had only been a few days, and they''d only consumed pure essence once, but already he could see that they moved with more fluidity.


    More did not mean that they had even the slightest bit of grace. They were still awkward, tottering things the size of a large man with the clumsiness of a child. "Good," he said as he eyed all three. "Soon we will be parting ways for the first time."


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    The three puppets eyed him unblinkingly. The green one''s attention snapped to the shore for a moment before returning to him. Ah, the curious one of the bunch.


    "Before you are sent ashore as our scouting party, I want to confer a few things to you. The equipment will come later. Sir Jorvin has a few short swords set aside for you and the like. For now... let me unlock some of your abilities that have thus far remained under lock and key."


    He fished in the pockets of his robes until he removed a small keychain. It wasn''t anything too special, truly, but one of them would be important to these three.


    "Magus Nocthorn, if you would kindly assist me?" he asked.


    The process was somewhat delicate, though not so much so that he would need it carried out in the safety of a laboratory.


    The Magus Suffragus fetched a small lacquered box from within her robes and held it out to him. "Good, thank you," he replied before gesturing to the blue puppet. "Turn around. The access is through the rear hatch of your chest compartment."


    The puppet did as he asked and turned. From there, he was able to finagle a small pin-and-socket clasp apart and opened the puppet''s back plate. Its core was laid out before him, though without nearly as much access as was available at the front.


    "If one of you is to fall, observe this device here. The core and soul sphere, as well as this artifice." He outlined what he spoke of after ensuring that the other two were observing with rapt attention. "It''s designed to be somewhat easy to eject. It will leave the puppet blind and deaf to the world. A fate that is uncomfortable and cruel, but it will also allow us to place their core into a new chassis. Death, for you, is only permanent once your core is demolished, and it is not something so easily accomplished."


    With the tiny key in hand, he slotted it into a boxy device next to and behind the core, then opened it, revealing a set of small brass cylinders and glass vials.


    The Magus next to him opened the lacquered box, revealing three small disks.


    He took one of these and slotted it into place. There was room for two more next to it, but he left these undisturbed for now and reclasped the mechanism closed.


    A second key slid into another device, and he twisted it while holding the puppet steady.


    It shuddered and twisted, its legs and arms trembling for a moment. Not so dissimilar to when it gained purified essence for the first time.


    "Aahhh ah ah ah. Uh. Ah," the puppet said.


    Its voice was tinny and echoey, the voice of someone with a blocked nose speaking through a long pipe, but it was a voice all the same.


    "Welcome to the world of the speaking," he said. "The device I activated in you just now is what a magus would call their magical soul, or their aetherial resonator. There are a few names for it. It''s essentially an organ that allows one to manipulate magic to some extent. What you three have is... simplified. Mechanical. It is also limited in many ways."


    He turned the puppet over after closing the back up. It seemed well, though it was still muttering and making strange noises as it found its voice.


    "This unlocks a few minor features for you. Two of them are of note. The first is the ability to use a spell disk. These are arcane spells that have been pre-rendered and scribed by a talented magus. Pushing your magic into these will activate it. Yours are all the same. The spell is called Guiding Light."


    He raised his hand and cast the same spell. It was not complex, the sort of thing that a prospective mage ought to know before ever even stepping foot in an academy. It created a ball of pure white light that hovered next to him.


    "It''s harmless. Use these to alert us to your return on the shore, especially by night. The other feature is your voice. It may take some time to master this, and it does consume some amount of your magical essence to speak."


    The blue puppet stopped immediately.


    He chuckled. "Your reserves will be replenished as you... refuel on essence with the siphons you have. A small portion each time, but certainly enough to allow for such an easy spell to be cast on rare occasions. If you prove yourselves adept, and your souls are properly attuned for it, perhaps the learning of more and more complex magics will be possible. Though that will require a great deal of growth on your part first."


    He glanced past the three. The green one seemed eager for him to unlock her voice, but his eye was caught by something in the distance. A lighthouse.


    "Shorefarm," he said. "We''ve arrived, it seems. And so our time for preparation comes to an end."


    ***

 Chapter Seven - Repeated Vocalization

    Chapter Seven - Repeated Vocalization


    51st Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    Shorefarm, Yellowfield, Draya Calyrex


    A pair of young men were at the front of the little boat, and a second pair just like them were at the rear. The four pulled on oars in time with each other, each heave pushing the little boat slightly closer to shore.


    Sitting in the middle of the ship, with a shawl over her shoulder and a bubble of shimmering air around her head, was the young Magus woman who had been there when she first awakened.


    Magus Suffragus Nocthorn. It was good to have a name to go with the face, though she was quite certain that Suffragus was a title, not a proper name. Strange how that worked. The people onboard the ship slowly receding behind them seemed fond of those.


    "La la la," she said. "Ma ma ma."


    The woman sighed. "I would ask you to stop, but I can at least understand that there won''t be a better time to practice your vocalizations than now. Just... keep it low. And perhaps don''t interrupt as I instruct you."


    "Ye ye ye," Green said. If she could smile, she would.


    Speech! At long last, she could speak. The voice came from deep in her throat, at the base of it, and it spilled out of her wooden mouth with a strange, echoing tone, but it was speech all the same.


    Turning her attention back to the space ahead of them, she could make out a small town slowly being encompassed by a growing fog. Much of the shoreline had a thick wall of fog permeating it and rising far taller than even the ship they''d departed.


    As they came closer, they plunged into the fog until their visibility was cut short.


    "Hmm," the Magus said. "Well, now is as good a time as any," she said. "Pay attention, all three of you." The three of them did so, though Green noticed Red still scanning the fog. "Magus Maldrak''s mission for you today is simple. Scout out the piers and docks we will be making landfall near, then your goal is to assess the lighthouse up on that hill."


    She pointed, and the three followed her gesture up the plateau slightly. There was a rise, and atop it a short, rather stubby tower made of local stone. It might have been part of the rise, were it not so straight cut.


    "If you encounter resistance, you may reply to it as you see fit. From what I understand, harnessing the essence of locals will empower you to some degree. I''d advise against killing any right-minded peasants, however. We are not a conquering army. For that reason... here."


    The woman reached into a satchel and pulled out three small purses. They were little bags, with leather straps about them. She gave one to each of them.


    "These contain a missive from the Magus, explaining who you are in case of any... disputes with civilized folk. There is also a compass linked with a guidestone within the Gentle Tidings. You should be able to find the ship from anywhere with that. I''ve also opted to include paper and quill, a small stopper of ink, and Artisan Artificer Preamagus Woodbone has lent you each a small tool set. For repairs and the like."


    Green accepted hers gladly. "T-t-taaa... ta ta ta ks."


    The young Magus stared at her, one eyebrow raised. "You''re welcome," she said.


    The boat continued to move towards the shore, and soon the lapping of water became quite a bit louder.


    "Regardless of whether you complete your task or not, you are to summon us by nightfall. Use the light spell we so graciously gave you and wait here for retrieval. And if you have any downtime, though I imagine your day will be occupied, do practice your speech. You don''t want to stutter a report to the Magus."


    "Ye ye yeeess," Green said.


    The men at the front murmured something and stopped rowing, and soon those at the rear stopped as well. They coasted through the fog and shadows until, finally, one of the sailors passed his oar onto another and reached a hand out to grab something.


    A pier stood above them, with the tide currently at a low point.


    "Good luck," Nocthorn said.


    Green stood up a little shakily and moved closer to the pier. She wasn''t sure how she would climb up onto it, but Red showed her the way.


    The puppet moved to the edge of the pier then fell down onto it before moving her limbs up and around to push herself further up. It meant scraping her wooden front against the pier, but it worked well enough.


    Green followed suit, and she noticed Blue doing the same with some difficulty. Of the three, Blue was the one who was the clumsiest, though Green would never mention it aloud... now that she could.


    "Ba ba ba," she muttered as she climbed up onto the pier then straightened herself. The pier didn''t wobble or shake. It was entirely stable. For some reason, that felt strange, and wrong. Still, she imagined she would be used to it eventually.


    Checking over herself, she made sure that the belt with her sheathed sword was by her hip and the satchel with the compass and equipment was still around her waist. Then she lowered herself down and grabbed Blue by the back and helped her up as well, before the puppet rolled into the water and sank away.


    Or perhaps they would float? She wasn''t sure except that she knew she didn''t want to find out.


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    There was a splash, and she turned to stare down at the boat that had brought them here as it pushed off the pier and the sailors started to row once more. Soon, faster than she would have expected, it was swallowed by the fog.


    The three puppets stood together on the pier, the fog curling around them like ghostly tendrils. Green adjusted the satchel at her side, the weight of its contents both reassuring and strange. She glanced at Red, who was already scanning their surroundings with her usual restless energy, and then at Blue, who was brushing off the front of her frame as though smoothing imaginary creases.


    "Greeee," she said. Almost! A few more minutes and she was sure she''d get the hang of speaking.


    "Shhh," Red replied. It wasn''t a word, exactly, but the sentiment was clear.


    The water lapped gently at the posts of the pier, the sound muffled by the dense fog. No voices, no birds, no movement except the faint ripple of the tide. The silence felt like a heavy blanket.


    Red gestured forward. Without words, it was clear she was urging them to move. Green supposed that there was no point in standing on a pier, so when Red started to move, she followed. Blue came up behind, her movements deliberate and steady, though there was a slight hesitation in her gait.


    As they moved towards the town, the shapes of houses became more distinct, as did the skeletal forms of small ships moored along the piers.


    The houses were simple things. Wooden walls stained by salt water, thatched roofs, and a collection of wooden beams below where the water lapped and shifted, clogged with seaweed.


    The deeper parts of the town were a little better. The homes were made of old stone and some of the roofs looked to be covered in shingles.


    She couldn''t count the number of houses, but there couldn''t be more than two dozen here. Though, on closer inspection, the buildings nearest the water weren''t homes but more like small shacks.


    She recalled Magus Nocthorn mentioning something about this town being divided in two parts. This wasn''t actually Shorefarm. This was a fishing village a short walk away from the town.


    Green was about to point to some of the buildings to suggest that they explore them when she heard a noise. It was a faint shuffle, something shifting over gravel.


    Red made an indistinct noise, then carefully reached down and started to pull her sword from its sheath.


    Green did the same, with some difficulty. The sword didn''t just slip out, she had to hold the sheath in place, and that meant gripping both it and the sword and pulling them apart, a task that was surprisingly complex.


    "Shh," Red said again as the shuffling grew closer. It was followed by some sniffing.


    And then Blue dropped her sword.


    The sound of Blue''s sword clattering to the ground echoed in the muffled fog. Green winced internally and gripped her sword tighter. Her eyes clicked as they turned towards the source of the shuffling noise. It had stopped.


    Then there was running. Something growled and smacked against the gravel roadway with a quick beat that grew louder.


    Out of the fog came a large four-legged blur. A dog? It was emaciated, its fur hanging in patches, and its flanks revealed every one of its pointy bones. There were growths along its sides and back. Sharp little scales that poked out of it nearly at random.


    It locked eyes on the nearest of them and leapt.


    Red raised her sword to block, but the impact sent her stumbling backward. She tripped, and with a clatter crashed onto the road with the dog above her.


    Its teeth flashed, milky white things that ended in serrated tips. They grabbed onto Red''s face and the dog shook its head violently from side to side while Red scrambled against its chest.


    Green froze for half a heartbeat before lunging forward, her sword aimed at the dog''s exposed flank. It was the lunge that she''d been taught. Unlike in their short sparring sessions, the sword bit into flesh, a strange, wet sensation that had her flinching back.


    The wound she left was shallow, just an oozing cut in the dog''s side. It didn''t even flinch.


    Red struggled beneath it, and soon the dog clamped onto her arm instead. Green could see the wood being savaged as it growled and chewed.


    She jabbed at it again, then again, but her pokes were only leaving it with small, dirty cuts, and it wasn''t backing off.


    Then Blue was there. Her movements were slow, deliberate, but she seemed to know what she was doing.


    Her hands moved towards the dog''s face, and then there was light.


    The light flared directly into the dog''s face. It yelped, its glowing green eyes squeezing shut as it recoiled, momentarily stunned. Red seized the opportunity, twisting her frame and driving her sword upward. The blade pierced through the creature''s chest with a heavy crunch.


    The moment held for a moment, then the dog slumped off to the side and onto the ground.


    Green wanted to heave, to breathe hard, but... there was no need for that, was there.


    And then Red''s chest opened, and her siphon slid out. "Ree," she said simply before she crawled onto the still fresh corpse.


    Right. The spoils of their fight was still there.


    ***

 Chapter Eight - The Undignified

    Chapter Eight - The Undignified


    51st Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    Shorefarm, Yellowfield, Draya Calyrex


    There was something very inhuman about crouching over the corpse of a dead dog, her chest opened up and siphon stabbed down and slowly filling with the essence of the thing they''d killed.


    Green noticed her siphon no longer pulling anything and tugged it back. She hadn''t even been sure that they could all use theirs at the same time, and yet... here they were. Her counter now read 148. Dogs were more than fish, it seemed.


    She pushed off and away from the body, Red and Blue doing the same a moment later.


    They stared at each other, framed by the fog and the dilapidated buildings of what might have been an abandoned down, three monsters made of wood and steel over the corpse of another, its blood staining all of them.


    Green pointed at the creature between them. "Dog," she said.


    Red stared back, then a moment later, she started to speak. "E e e e e," she said.


    It took a moment for Green to realize that Red was laughing.


    Her own shoulders shook a little, and she joined in. "He he he," she said, the slow, artificial laugh only making it all stranger and funnier.


    Blue looked between the two, then shook her head. "Un...dig ni fied," she said, slowly and deliberately.


    Green laughed even harder at that, not that it really showed in her voice. It was still the same tinny sound, at the same volume, but Blue speaking up for the first time to say something like that...


    With a slap on the ground, Red reached up as if to wipe her eyes, then seemed to realize that she didn''t need to, so she just shook her head and picked up her sword. "Mmm..." she began. "ore. Mmmmore."


    "Dogs?" Green asked, and at Red''s quick nod, she stood up herself and scanned the village. There weren''t any dogs that she noticed, but there might have been more around. "No," she said after a while.


    Red nodded, then gestured with her sword. She paused, as if to talk, but after a moment of stuttering and failing to say anything, she merely shrugged some more and started to walk further into the village.


    "Blue," Green said as she turned towards the other puppet. "Go?"


    "B...blue?" Blue asked. She pointed to herself. The small conversation had Red pausing to stare back at them.


    Green pointed to Blue''s chest. "Blue," she said. Then to Red. "Red." Finally, to herself. "G...greeeen."


    "Reed," Red agreed. It was close enough, at least according to Green.


    Blue, however, seemed to think differently. She shook her head again. "Un-digni-fied," she said, carefully pronouncing each syllable.


    Green shrugged. It was descriptive enough, and Blue didn''t seem ready to volunteer better names just yet.


    "Dogs," Green said instead while waving her sword deeper into the town.


    The other two considered it before nodding. And so they pushed in. The road they were on eventually reached an intersection with a much wider, more travelled road. There were several carts left along the sides, and the homes here were split evenly between shops and houses.


    Red raised a hand for them to stop, then lowered herself slowly next to some crates by the side of the road. They were filled with the rotting remains of fish. Green imagined that they stank, but she didn''t have a nose to tell.


    Lowering herself as well, she crept up next to Red, then peeked out ahead.


    There were people walking along the middle of the road.


    They seemed like normal peasants from afar, with the wafting fog hiding them. At least, they seemed that way until they started to move. The three of them walked with a slow, unsteady shuffle. One was dragging their leg behind.


    There was a dog with them as well. It was limping along next to the group, and had what looked like a single extra limb protruding from its back.


    "Shh," Red said.


    They remained quiet. All three of them huddled behind a few chests as the villagers came closer. As they did, Green was able to make out more of their forms.


    They wore rags. Their clothes torn apart and open at the chest to expose large, scarred emblems burned into their sternums. All three had flakey scales growing over their skin in rough patches.


    It was their eyes that arrested her, however. They were twisted in pain, and it seemed like all three were crying.


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    She finally noticed that they weren''t entirely quiet either. The three were muttering, speaking in low tones. Green shifted slightly, to better catch on to one the man in the middle of the trio was saying. "Aurynth, oh, Aurynth the Golden, why have you left us so?" he lamented.


    She had no idea who or what that was, but the three seemed very upset about it.


    Green was considering leaving them be, when Red moved and the dog in the group started to growl.


    All three peasants stopped moving. Their eyes started to glow faintly, golden light spilling out. "Oh! Aurynth! Oh! Great dragon baron of the Yellowfields!" one of them shouted.


    The dog barked, then rushed forwards.


    Moving fast, Red shifted her sword around and brought her free arm up. The dog leapt, and when its jaw snapped on her already-chewed arm, Red was quick to start stabbing it in the chest.


    It didn''t go down so easily. Green turned and stabbed it from the side, and Blue did the same.


    The dog shook, growling and clawing at Red as best it could, but with all three of them punching it full of holes, it eventually went down.


    Green spun towards the three peasants, afraid of what they might do.


    One of them fell onto his knees, then raised his arms high above his head in supplication. "Aurynth! Great dragon! We are under assault! Blessed be your servants that we may carry out your divine and golden will!"


    The man caught fire.


    Green staggered backwards as the man''s clothes burned away and his skin, scales and all, turned incandescent. Somehow, the fire seemed to avoid the other two, who stumbled forwards, their eyes glowing and their faces twisted in horrid anger.


    The burning man''s scream was a terrible, otherworldly sound. His form lit the fog around them in flickering shades of orange and gold, casting grotesque shadows of the remaining two villagers as they lurched forward. Green could only stare for a moment, transfixed by the impossible fire that consumed him but didn''t reduce him to ash.


    Red didn''t hesitate. She lunged at one of the advancing peasants, her sword cutting through the fog with a faint hiss. The blade struck true, biting deep into the villager''s side. A strange, golden ichor spilled from the wound, the man staggering but not stopping.


    Green stepped forward as the same man reached for Red. He was clawing at Red with glowing, claw-like fingers. The edge of her blade sliced into his elbow and he screamed as something broke and glowing blood sprayed out of him.


    The burning man, now fully engulfed in flames, stood still as though in a trance. His arms stretched skyward, his face a grotesque mask of agony and exaltation. The golden glow from his body pulsed, and Green felt a wave of heat wash over her. The air shimmered unnaturally, and the other two villagers seemed to grow stronger, their movements more precise, their eyes blazing even brighter.


    Blue finally managed to down the first peasant with a clumsy strike at his knee. As he fell, Red stumbled over his body and started to plunge her sword into his back with repeated, mechanical motions, like a sewing machine punctuating flesh.


    The second villager screamed and lunged at Green. She almost forgot Sir Jorvin''s lessons, but some parts came back to her.


    She stepped back, making room, then swiped at eye-height. She didn''t expect it to land, but it did, cutting across the bridge of the villager''s nose.


    Still, he reached out and grabbed her, and somehow his emaciated arms were strong enough to pull her in. The villager started to punch into her chest with his free arm. Three blows in, and she started to hear wood splintering.


    Then, suddenly, he went down, and Green found herself looking at Red as the puppet removed her sword from the man''s back.


    All three of them turned to the man on the ground. He had changed, the fire burning back skin to reveal scales, only... they were malformed and misshapen, and the man was left folded in half with his face pressed to the ground. He was wheezing, bleeding from his eyes even as something shifted under the skin of his back.


    They didn''t wait to see what that was. Instead, they moved closer and all three of them started stabbing.


    When it was all done, they scanned the area, but the street was still empty.


    Shorefarm was far more cursed than she''d been led to believe.


    ***

 Chapter Nine - A History

    Chapter Nine - A History


    51st Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    The shores of Yellowfield, the Sapphire Ocean, Draya Calyrex


    Magus Maldrak watched as the small boat usually carried in the middle of the Gentle Tidings''s main deck was hoisted up. It was done with a set of four pulleys on a small cargo crane currently deployed from the centre of the ship.


    A delicate bit of work, but nothing the crew couldn''t handle.


    With a few final ''heave-hos'' the boat was lifted out of the water with a splash, and then it slowly rose up and up while the crew onboard tried not to rock the boat too much.


    Once it was even with the edge of the ship, a few men stepped up and held it steady so that the young woman aboard could climb off.


    "I thought myself used to seafaring by now," Magus Suffragus Nocthorn complained as she disembarked and adjusted her robes. "But that small boat? Something about it makes me quite ill."


    "Be thankful that the waters are calm at the moment," Maldrak said, though he couldn''t resist a small smile. "How was the voyage otherwise?"


    The boat was kept in place, hanging off the Gentle Tidings''s side. There was no point in stowing it when it may well be needed by nightfall.


    "Well enough. The fog along the shore is so thick as to be impenetrable," she said. "I can''t imagine navigating these shores without a lighthouse."


    "Indeed," he said. "But that''s only an issue in the mornings. By this afternoon it will lift. And it''s not an issue year-round." Already, the fog was thinning in some places, enough that he could make out the distant buildings of the village along the shore''s edge.


    "Fine then," she said before glancing back. "Do you expect the three to make it back?"


    "I believe so. Assuming there''s nothing too daunting for them to combat, then yes, they should make it back in due time," he said.


    "I''d worry more about a peasant taking them apart. Some are quite suspicious of clockwork and artifice they don''t understand. Or they might take them to be resold."


    "A possibility, under normal circumstances. But these aren''t those," he said.


    "I suppose not," Nocthorn replied. "What will have happened to the average peasant on the mainland?


    Magus Maldrak rubbed at his chin. "There was an incident some twenty-odd years ago, in 1737 on the Vermil Isles. Are you familiar with it?"


    Nocthorn hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "I believe that''s an island to the east of Draya Calyrex, but otherwise, no, I''m not certain what event you speak of."


    "That''s fine. I was deployed to the isle at the time as part of a group of mages and knights sent to investigate the location, on behalf of the Avaris Myrcana Academy. At the time I held the same rank as you, in fact. It''s where I met my wife... in any case, the island is not terribly noteworthy. Some pearl farms in the reefs around it, some rather large crustaceans, but little of true note."


    "But you spoke of an incident," she continued.


    "Indeed. A dragon whelp by the name of Lazuryth the Lazuli claimed the isle as its own. A small demesne for a small dragon. Nothing too strange, though fortunately not an event that is very common. The dragon installed itself upon the isle and demanded tribute from the locals. It did as dragons do, and promoted some that it favoured above the others."


    "Like in the mainland," Nocthorn nodded.


    "Let''s step inside. I tire a little of the chill air, and I believe that after some warm tea, I may just retire for some true rest," he said before leading the young woman towards the interior of the ship. As he walked he continued his history lesson. "Lazuryth, being a young dragon, had yet to decide much about itself, but it had great ambitions."


    Nocthorn snorted indelicately. "A dragon whelp with ambition?"


    "Yes, very funny," he said. "But it''s worth noting that it decided to lay several eggs. This is, without creating a hoard of any real substance. Pearls of all sorts were featured, as well as some artefacts, but its hoard was still small, and its reach only extended across the isle. It failed to conceive its first egg."


    "The dragon died in the laying stage?" Nocthorn asked. "I''ve read about such a thing. The unborn egg would have been worth a fortune."


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    "Oh, it was," he said. "Even split amongst all the fellows who retrieved it... ah, but that isn''t what I wish to highlight. Rather, it''s the impact of the dragon''s untimely demise on the citizens of the Vermil Isles. Lazuryth the Lazuli had occupied the island for a scant half-decade, but its bodily waste had been put to use in fertilizing the crops, and its draconic essence was empowering each individual on the island save for some few of the noble class whom the dragon needed to travel to and commune with outside of its demesne."


    Nocthorn nodded along. Eventually, they found themselves in his office. He summoned water from the air into a kettle, and lit the enchantment woven into its artifice to begin the process of boiling water for tea.


    Maldrak sat across from Nocthron while the water warmed. "The citizens of the isle worshiped the dragon, as most are wont to do when a benevolent creature such as that appears and empowers them. Its waste made their food grow faster, and made it more palatable. They grew stronger, not just in stature and musculature, but in magic as well."


    "Dragon affinity magic."


    He nodded and made a dismissive wave. She knew all about that, and he wouldn''t dwell on it. "The issue is, of course, that such power is tied to a dragon. To some degree. On the dragon''s death, the essence corrupts. When we arrived on the island it was to find... chaos. People were eating dirt. Some fought to the death over the last remaining dragon dung. Others had taken their lives or that of their children. Nay-sayers were cast into the ocean. The magic that they wielded was no longer so easy to control."


    "You can control dragon affinity magic without worshipping a dragon," Nocthorn said.


    "You are a wizard, so I imagine you''ve spent little time with a clergyman of a dragon''s cult. I''ll forgive your lack of knowledge because you are correct, but only technically so."


    Maldrak leaned forwards. The tea was ready. He poured the tea through a strainer into two cups, then he opened a small jar of honey and used a small silver stick to pick some out of the jar and into his cup.


    "Ah, yes, as I was saying," he continued after his first draw. "There is... a certain mental impact to using draconic magics that isn''t represented in wizardly magics. I don''t know the exact feeling, though I''ve heard it described as reverence to the source of the magic. When a dragon dies, there is a... snap? A breaking of bonds."


    "And that drives people mad," Nocthorn said.


    "It weakens them suddenly, and by the same token, frees them from the constraints the dragon might have placed upon the use of their own essence. That is a metaphysical application of the magic. I have a book or two on the subject here for your later perusal. Suffice to say that a caster will suddenly find themselves weakened, and able to draw significantly deeper from the well of magic they have. At the same time, the lack of constraints means that any favorable mutation the draconic essence might have imparted... grows in an uncontrolled manner."


    Nocthorn nodded over her mug. "I''ve heard of this as well."


    "Good, good. The death of a dragon is the trigger to all of those who had that dragon''s favour not only finding their mind disquieted, discovering their god dead, and their personal power lurched away from their grasp and control, but also being struck by a cancerous illness from which there may be no cure."


    "And the people of the mainland..." Nocthorn said.


    "Have worshipped their dragon lords for generations untold," he said. "What I saw on the Vermil Isles was disquieting, but it passed after a few months of turmoil. The survivors were healed as best we could, and work and life resumed. Some of the empowering even remained. But nearly a third of the island''s population was wiped out. A population who had only been under draconic influence for a short time, and from a whelp of a dragon no less."


    "What will we see once we step foot on land?" she asked.


    Maldrak set his cup down. It clattered very faintly onto its saucer. "I''m quite tired, I''m afraid. This impromptu history will have to come to an end early."


    ***

 Chapter Ten - A Plague

    Chapter Ten - A Plague


    51st Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    Shorefarm, Yellowfield, Draya Calyrex


    Green rose from a crouch and resisted the urge to wipe at her face. Her siphon slowly retracted and clicked into place. She glanced down at her essence counter before it was locked away in her barrel chest. 298.


    The three of them had initially hesitated over the four bodies they''d left on the road. Were they to share one each and then split the third? But Blue communicated to them, with grunts and gestures, that they ought to partake in all four equally.


    It meant that they all had a more or less similar amount of essence at the moment. Red was ahead by a few dozen points, and Blue behind by as many, but the difference was rather slight.


    It actually gladdened Green''s mechanical heart that her... comrades were willing to share so easily.


    They might need that, if the last fight was anything indication of how things might go.


    Three puppets against as many peasants and a single dog, and it had felt like a close thing. Green wasn''t sure that she could take on a single peasant on her own. Maybe. If she had the drop on them, hit them first. She had a weapon while those they''d fought were barehanded.


    What would happen if they ran into a larger group? Would they be outnumbered, surrounded, and massacred?


    She shuddered, which had her entire body clinking and clanking like a cheap windchime. Red turned towards her and slowly tilted her head to the side like a dog asking a question. "Eh?"


    Green gestured her concern away with a brush of her head, then made a sort of circle to encompass the entire town. "Looo... loook?" She hadn''t yet mastered every vowel sound, and she wasn''t sure if making lots of noise now would be wise.


    Red nodded, then glanced around. The long market street went in three directions from here. The road back to the piers was behind them, and it split to the left and right. The right seemed to lead right out of the town. There were some homes way off in the distance, up a slight rise, and past those were the hills with the lighthouse they were supposed to look into.


    The road to their left went deeper into the town. Red pointed that way, and Green nodded, though it was a little reluctant.


    Would they be meeting more people that way? Would they be as hostile as these three?


    Blue pointed to the bodies, then to the side of the street. "Hhhhide?"


    Green thought about it, then shrugged. They could hide the bodies if they wanted to, but there was also a lot of blood all over, including on the three of them. Using the siphons on some dead fish had felt so clean and easy compared to stabbing into a recently dead human.


    Red grunted, then carefully put her sword into its sheath and reached down to grab the leg of the first and nearest man. Green stumbled over to help.


    She was happy about one thing. This puppet body of hers didn''t seem capable of feeling any amount of exhaustion. Her mind, however, did. She just wanted to sit down and stare at the sky for a moment, but there was no time for that.


    They corded the bodies next to the intersection, between an old cart and some crates. They wouldn''t be immediately visible, but it wouldn''t take much to find them.


    Crows were already circling above, the birds eyeing them with curiosity and the corpses with hunger.


    "Go," Red said while pointing to the leftmost part of the town.


    "Ye," Green agreed, and with no protest from Blue, they toddled on deeper into the village.


    Shorefarm, or whatever this small offshoot of that town was called, didn''t have much going for it, Green found. She wasn''t sure how she knew that, exactly, but she had the impression that this was just some small, poor, fishing town by the ocean, minding its own business most of the time.


    They reached a spot where the road widened into what was almost a village square. There was a wider space, with muddy ground and a large stable in the distance. Poles stood up, evenly spaced, and long garlands hung from between them.


    In the middle of the square was a pile of corpses.


    It only reached hip-height for Green, but it was large enough that she couldn''t begin to guess how many were there. A hundred people? More? She wasn''t sure. What she knew, instinctively, was that they had been there a while. Swarms of flies hummed around the bodies and the carrion crows were idly picking at exposed flesh. All the softer flesh was long gone.


    The three puppets stood at the square''s edge for a while, at least until a moan shifted their attention to the side.


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    From the shadows of the nearby stable, a figure staggered into view. It was humanoid but warped, much like the peasants they had encountered earlier. This one was taller, its limbs stretched unnaturally long, with patches of gold-tinged scales covering its emaciated frame. Its head lolled as though the neck barely supported it, and its glowing eyes seemed unfocused, the golden light flickering like a dying candle.


    The man''s robes were plain cloth, but he wore a sash around his chest embroidered with gold filigree. Something told her that this man was important, even as he shuffled out of the stables.


    And then he was joined by two more. Simple peasants, like those they''d encountered. They were dragging a body behind them.


    The man stood by the heap, then raised his head to the sky, followed by his arms. "Oh, great Aurynth the Golden! Rightful ruler of the Yellowfields! The warm fire! The seeder of wheat! I, lesser servant of you my great lord, beseech you for a sign!"


    The man reached to his side and pulled out a knife. It was golden and curved and caught the bit of sun piercing the clouds brilliantly. He shifted his robed back, exposing a scale-covered arm covered in deep lacerations.


    "Take of my blood!" he screamed before cutting across his skin.


    He tucked the knife away while his blood splashed on the bodies. It seemed to glow there, sparkling and bright before he covered his arm with his robes.


    "Take of my tears!" he shouted next, before wiping his face and flicking wetness onto the bodies.


    The two peasants heaved, and the body they carried was tossed onto the pile.


    "Take into thee my serfs! That their nourishment may call you and your mighty power back unto your loyal servant of lesser noble blood!"


    The man spread his arms wide and waited.


    Blue slowly moved backwards, first one step, then another. Green followed suit, moving slowly as if that wouldn''t catch any notice. She wanted to grimace at every clink her metal joints made. Red glanced at them, then the pile of bodies which glowed faintly with feverish light, then she followed them back as well.


    Something told Green that that man was beyond them. Worse, she thought she caught sight of more in the stables beyond.


    Her heart almost leapt out of her when she turned and noticed a dozen people shuffling towards them.


    They all froze, but the people, peasants one and all, merely walked on past them, their eyes fixed ahead. They were mutated. Some had scales ripping out of their flesh, others twisted and broken wings. All of them were thin, pale of skin, and sickly, and not a single one of them acknowledged the three puppets as they stumbled into the square.


    "Go," Red said with a gesture towards the far end of the village.


    Green nodded. Yes, she wanted to get out of here. Something told her that any amount of aggression would quickly do away with whatever calm these people had. There were only perhaps two dozen of them, but that was far more than she could imagine them taking on.


    They shuffled through the village unmolested.


    As they reached the far edge, a new sound broke the silence--a rhythmic clanging, faint but not so distant. It was the ring of hammer on metal, slow and steady, punctuated by the low hiss of steam or breath. The puppets froze for a moment, exchanging glances. Green tilted her head toward the sound, and Red nodded sharply before gesturing for them to follow.


    The path leaving Shorefarm curved slightly, leading to a small blacksmith''s shop tucked against the rising hills. It was a modest building, with a sagging roof and a chimney belching faint trails of smoke into the foggy sky. Outside, under a crude awning, stood a man at a forge. He was tall and thin, his face obscured by a cloth wrapped around his head and eyes. His arms were muscular but marred with burns.


    He held a hammer, raising it just a little, before it fell and clinked against a glowing piece of metal. His hammer strikes looked tired. As did the man. He moved with the slow, exhausted rhythm of someone pushing themselves well past their limits.


    In the forge behind him, a small brass dragon breathed a steady stream of fire into a blackened metal bowl as long as an armspan. Some sort of artifice to smelt steel.


    The man paused between one blow and the next, and slowly raised his head. "Oh? Who goes there?" he asked. His voice was soft and whispery. "I gave unto the lord all I had. My gold and my eyes and my precious things besides. I have nothing more to give."


    Green paused, but this man... didn''t seem insane. Not as much as those villagers, in any case.


    Maybe there was finally someone who could tell them what was going on here.


    ***

 Chapter Eleven - A Smith

    Chapter Eleven - A Smith


    51st Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    Shorefarm, Yellowfield, Draya Calyrex


    "Hhhh," Green started, then paused. There were some sounds that were going to take her a while to master, she figured. "Hhhheeello," she said, very slowly.


    Next to her, Red grunted a greeting of her own, and Blue remained quiet, her head slowly turning as she scanned the area around the little blacksmithy and home.


    The blacksmith''s brows drew together. "Hello," he replied. "I don''t recognize the sound of your voice. You mustn''t be from Shorefarm."


    "No," Green said.


    The man nodded slowly and solemnly. "I must confess to some joy on hearing that. Wherefrom do you hail, then? What winds brought you to this fair corner of the land, and are they of good tidings or ill?"


    She glanced to the others, but neither seemed ready to reply to the man. Without a word spoken between them, she had been elected as their spokesperson. Or spokespuppet, she presumed. "Good," she finally said. "Wat... wat hhhhapp..en?"


    "What happened?" he asked.


    Green nodded, then realized that the man couldn''t possibly see it. Still, he seemed to catch on.


    "Ah, I don''t rightly know. I woke in the dead of night, cramped from toe to fingertip, my body wracked with pain the likes of which I''d never felt. But it seems like what I experienced was but a shadow of the suffering of the townsfolk I''d been getting to know. My shop here, it is an old thing, but my presence is new. My name is Tomas Fletchscale, I''m a blacksmith of Fangspire, to the far north and east. I moved here a scant few years ago, for a quieter sort of living."


    He deposited his hammer onto his anvil with a clink and leaned forwards slightly. Calloused hands came to rest on the solid metal. Tomas looked ready to faint.


    "I don''t know what disaster has befallen the locals. But I can feel that it is something that stretches beyond these fields." He clutched at his chest for a moment. "Vyrwolf... Something has happened to the lady wolf."


    "Sssorry," Green said. "Sorry."


    Tomas shook his head. "No. No, something has befallen our noble home, and I doubt it is you who is to blame, stranger. The lord of our small town has... I believe he has gone mad with fervour, and the townsfolk follow his lead as the loyal serfs they are. I paid him a tithe in eyes and gold already. I am left with nothing. Perhaps your arrival is a good sign."


    "Yes," Green said. She hoped it was. Maybe this poor man could be moved back onto their ship. She wasn''t sure about repairing his eyes, but healing him in other ways might be possible.


    Tomas smiled, though it carried little true mirth. Then he raised a hand and picked up his hammer once more. "I must continue my work, I''m afraid. Tools must be made. The village will forget this folly, I hope, when their hunger comes calling, and it will be back to the ocean for a bounty of fish. They''ll need my tools then, and resting upon my laurels will help no one."


    "Thank... you," Green said. She meant it, too. Kindness like this felt precious, and perhaps like something too rarely seen in these parts.


    The blacksmith paused for a moment, then turned his head to look deeper into his little shop. "One moment," he said before he moved back. A few items were shifted aside, and his fingers ran delicately over an array of tongs and tools before he found something and returned. "Here. This will serve me no longer, and I... I feel as though the lord perhaps does not deserve it. Take it, and may it serve you well."


    Green carefully plucked the item resting in Tomas''s hand. It was a small wolf-head, made of blackened, wrought iron. The head surrounded a metal cage of sorts, and its mouth was hinged to open. A metal ring ran around the top, for ease of handling, or perhaps to hook it onto something.


    Carefully, Green shifted the item around, then she discovered a clasp at the rear. Tugging it down opened the iron wolf''s maw and eyes, and from within came a warm yellow light.


    The interior was filled with several small mirrors positioned around a gem the size of a thumb joint. It was crudely cut, but that didn''t prevent it from glowing all the same.


    "Light?" she asked.


    "Indeed. A trinket from my homeland, for precise work in the dead of night without heat or flame. May it light your path, because mine feels quite impossible to see at the moment. Now... I''m afraid that I truly must resume my work."


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    "Thank... you," Green said.


    She clicked the little lantern shut, then looked to the others.


    Red shrugged, and Blue stared at the device for a few moments longer before her attention snapped back up to Green. She pointed, a single finger raised up towards the hill circling around the rise.


    She looked down at the ring on the lantern, then removed her satchel, the one with the compass given to her by Magus Nocthorn. With a bit of finagling, she was able to tie the ring onto the strap so that the lantern hung by her hip.


    It was nearing noon, at the moment, and the sun was warm enough that even the most tenacious remains of the fog that had clouded the region was being burned away.


    "Lighthouse," Blue said.


    Green was taken aback by how fluidly the puppet had said that. It was a single word, certainly, but it was pronounced very well considering the strange accent their voices carried.


    "Yes," she agreed.


    Tomas the blacksmith turned his head up, almost as if looking at them. "The lighthouse? Ah... beware. The keepers of the lighthouses along these shores are all devout. They do not appreciate strangers interfering with their work."


    "Thank you," Green replied. She glanced at the others, but there wasn''t any reason not to at least go and observe.


    And so they set off. The path to the lighthouse peeled away from the village and along a beaten dirt path. There were ancient ruts, dug in by cart and carriage that moved up a slight incline and then continued on.


    The path rose the entire way, making each stumbling step somewhat treacherous, but without the ability to feel tired, it was easy to keep a steady pace that didn''t throw any of them to the ground.


    Blue eventually stopped and found a branch on the ground with which to walk, but Green decided to keep her hands free, just in case.


    They made it to a stretch of thick forest, the road crawling alongside it, and as they rose up and over a hill next to the rise on which the lighthouse sat, Green found herself pausing to take in the sight.


    "Look," Green said.


    She pointed below, where Shorefarm lay. The village was laid out below them in the mouth of a wide bay. The ground rose past the village, gently sweeping upwards until it reached a hard cliffside where bare stone rose up to a plateau just a little lower than the hill they were on.


    She wished she could squint to see better, or that she carried something to help her see further. Still, it was enough to see the fields of yellow stretching out to the horizon about the plateau.


    A larger town was spread out at the base of the cliffs. Three times as many homes as the little village they''d visited. A paved road led from one to the other, but the larger town was too distant for any precise details to be made out. It did have a small palisade wall about it, however, and few larger buildings in its centre.


    Red made a noise, then pointed to something in the distance. Not in the direction Green had been looking in, but towards the south.


    She turned and stared, then stared longer until the distant form started to make sense.


    It was a ballista. A big crossbow-like weapon, set on the top of a large cliffside way, way out in the distance. The cliff jutted out of the waters a little, and a large platform sat atop it, of stone and brick.


    The ballista was huge. It took a moment for her to realize its scale from so far away, but there were trees around the platform it sat on, and next to those were racks holding spare bolts. The bolts were twice as tall as the tallest tree, and wide enough that Green was certain her armspan was shorter. The ballista itself was likely bigger than the Gentle Tidings.


    It pointed out towards the ocean, as a silent, unused threat, a bolt sitting primed and ready to fire already.


    "Big," Red said.


    "Yes," Green agreed.


    What kind of person would build something like that? And what did it mean, to have it point out across the ocean? Was it a weapon? A warning? What would happen to a ship struck by a bolt larger than its main mast?


    "Lighthouse," Blue said, and they all turned towards the hill behind them. Up a short path alongside it was the lighthouse. A square-based building with a massive, narrow spire jutting out of it, topped by a glass-walled lantern room.


    She supposed it was about time that they checked it out. If they couldn''t clear the town, they could at least clear the lighthouse.


    ***

 Chapter Twelve - A Lightkeeper

    Chapter Twelve - A Lightkeeper


    51st Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    Shorefarm Lighthouse, Yellowfield, Draya Calyrex


    They came up the hill to the lighthouse in the middle of the afternoon. The sun was directly overhead, casting a powerful warmth over the ground.


    A field of wildflowers grew around the lighthouse, golden and red petals catching the light while within that same field, several large flowers stuck out from the rest, with blooms that were grouped up in yellow and orange bunches.


    The base of the lighthouse was a boxy stone building, several pillars on every corner rising up until they met a roof that reached up and in towards the central pillar of the tower. A large stone platform extended from the base, with a wrought iron fence running along the edge of it except for at the very front where the arched entrance way leading into the lighthouse stood.


    Green stretched her head back and looked all the way up the tower. It was surprisingly large. From afar it hadn''t seemed so imposing, but standing below it now? It felt like it was reaching to the sky far above.


    "No... one," Red said.


    Green glanced at Red, then scanned the area. It was empty at the moment. A fox was staring at them from the field of flowers, its head decorated by a crest of small scales, but it was quick to scurry away. A few birds were flitting about and singing, and in the distance she could see a herd of wild goats clinging to the side of a cliff. Otherwise, there was no one around.


    "Lights," Blue said. She pointed to the tower where narrow arrow-slit windows gave them a slight view within. There was light in there.


    "P-people," Green said. If there were lit lights, then there might be people.


    Red stepped up before them and slowly drew her sword which she held by her side in a low guard stance, just like how Jorvin had taught them. She stalked towards the door, and Green and Blue followed after her.


    They marched to the door where they paused. The door was a thick, wooden thing, covered in a single almost mural-like carving. It was of a dragon, with a long, long neck curved around a tower. The dragon''s maw was opened, and from it came a blazing light.


    Red reached towards the door and wrapped her free hand around the handle. It was fashioned to be part of the dragon''s wingtip. It cluncked, then the door slowly peeled open.


    The interior of the lighthouse opened into a large room. Smaller ones were tucked into the sides, but the main space was open and wide, an arena with tables along the edges and work desks, as well as several shelves filled with books and maps stuck to the walls.


    Across from them, at the far end of the room, was a man sitting on a high-backed chair. He wore simple clothes. He was wiry and thin, and yet rather tall, and while he seemed a little emaciated, he didn''t strike Green as someone weak. The muscles she could see on him were well-defined and corded beneath salt-beaten skin.


    "H-hello," Green said.


    Then the man glanced up. His eyes were unclouded, and when he slowly, carefully, stood up, it was with the casual ease of a predator. Green had seen the same sort of easy motion in Mage-Knight Jorvin on the Gentle Tidings.


    The man reached over to his side, his hand wrapping around the hilt of a mace with a lantern head at its top. It clinked faintly as he raised it up and then pointed the end towards them. "You trespass onto the territory of dragon lord Thalmyrion, the Light Keeper. I am the watcher of this house of illumination, and though I can sense the distress of my lord, I will allow none to interfere with his sacred light."


    The man swept the mace to the side, then took a step towards them and into the centre of the room.


    Green glanced at her companions, but it looked as though diplomacy once again fell onto her jointed shoulders. "Hello," she repeated. "We... nice?"


    The man glared. "This isn''t a hall of peace, automaton. You will find no deceit in this tower, only the light of my lord''s truth."


    Green jumped as the door behind them slammed shut.


    The lamps hanging from chains along the edges of the ceiling lit up, then continued to grow brighter and brighter until the entire space was consumed in a light so bright it might have blinded a normal person.


    The puppets looked around, then glanced at the man with the mace. He glared right back. "Let us lay bare the sins of your souls," he said. "Are you here to steal from my lord?"


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    "No," Green said. They were here to inspect the tower for Magus Maldrak. He had said nothing about killing its keeper or stealing what was within.


    The light continued to glow, and the man nodded. "Are you murderers?"


    Green hesitated. Were they? "Yes," she said.


    The light remained strong.


    The man''s grip on the mace''s handle tightened. "In these times, I suppose that means little. Is your allegiance to the dragon lords of Draya Calyrex?"


    "No," Green said.


    "Empty vessels with stolen sparks. Servants of a foreign master," he growled. "Have you ever blasphemed against the dragon gods?"


    "No," Green said.


    "And the others?" he asked.


    "No," Red said.


    "No," Blue repeated.


    The lights in the room flickered.


    The man''s eyes snapped to Blue. "Have you broken oath?" he asked.


    "No," Blue replied quickly.


    This time, the light remained steady, but as the man looked to Green and Red...


    "No," Green said.


    "No," Red repeated. This time the lights flickered a lot more.


    The lighthouse keeper grit his teeth. "Puppets of alien craft, blasphemers against the dragon gods, lies beneath the sacred light of Thalmyrion. Your bodies of kindling will feed the flame of this house."


    Green was about to try and ask what that meant, but before she could articulate anything, the man was moving.


    He moved with a slight limp, and now that she saw him fully, she could see that he was weakened by something. That didn''t prevent him from racing across the room, his arm swinging back then around in a wide sweep that had his mace whistling through the air.


    Green bent backwards and it was almost not enough. The tips of the mace''s spikes cut a line across her wooden torso and the slight contact had her stumbling back.


    Red was the first to react. She lunged forwards, swordpoint aimed right at the lighthouse keeper.


    The man reached out and backhanded her upper arm, sending her strike wide before he coiled his other arm in, then stabbed out with the end of his mace.


    It crunched into Red''s chest and she made a disturbing noise as she was flung back, arms and legs ragdolling.


    Blue and Green both fumbled their short swords out, then fell into the stances they''d been taught. It was sloppy, even Green could tell, but it was better than nothing.


    "Red!" Green said as loudly as she could.


    "Bow to the will of Thalmyrion, and be remade in the light!" the man shouted as he rushed towards Blue. His mace rose and came back down in a devastating overhead strike that Blue only barely dodged.


    Green ran towards the man''s exposed back, but before she could get a quick stab in, he spun around and his mace hummed through the air between them. She glanced to the side. Her joints felt weak as she saw Red climbing back to her feet. Her front was partially caved in, and the little plate that could move aside to hide her siphon was broken, but she seemed able to stand.


    "Die," Blue informed the man as she stepped in quick and stabbed at him.


    It was a feint. When he turned and moved his mace to smack her sword, it was already gone.


    Green saw the opening for what it was, however, and she moved in with a quick slash, most of the motion coming from her outstretched wrist.


    Were the man wearing any sort of armour, the cut might have glanced off, but as it was, it dug into the flesh of his back and he hissed as she left a long cut between his shoulder blades.


    That didn''t look like anything lethal, even if it bled.


    "Thalmyrion! Bless my light," he growled.


    His eyes started to glow and the cut started to fizzle as it healed.


    Then Red rammed into him at a dead sprint. The man was bowled off his feet, and both he and Red rolled across the floor.


    Green stood still, shocked for a moment, but her wits returned to her when Red screamed. "Dog!"


    Running over, Green stabbed at the first thing that came into reach, the man''s booted leg. Her first stab punctured his boot''s leather, though it didn''t penetrate deeply. Her next jabbed into his calf, then nearer to his knee.


    The man spun, kicking out at her even as he picked up Red by the face with one hand and flung her off of him.


    The glow coming from within him faded, and he quickly rolled back to his feet, but it was too close to Blue, and she got in a quick swipe that cut a long slice into his upper arm.


    Unlike some of the stabs earlier, that wound didn''t fizzle and heal. His dragon lord''s favour had run out.


    ***

 Chapter Thirteen - An Enemy Felled

    Chapter Thirteen - An Enemy Felled


    51st Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    Shorefarm Lighthouse, Yellowfield, Draya Calyrex


    "E e e e e," Red laughed as she slowly climbed back to her feet and picked up her short sword.


    The light that had been blindingly illuminating the interior of the lighthouse was fading now, slowly returning to something more peaceful and ordinary.


    The lighthouse keeper spun his mace around and regarded them all warily. Blue had moved around so that she was next to Green, with Red just a bit behind them and still recovering from her tackle... and laughing mockingly in the mechanical, reverberating way that their voices forced on them.


    "Dog," Blue accused the man.


    "I am a keeper of the light for dragon lord Thalmyrion. I am no dog," the keeper said.


    "Dog," Green agreed. It wasn''t just an accusation, she realized. It was a tactic.


    Blue moved right. Green moved left.


    The man eyed them both, then he reached over, hand covered in blood from where it had dribbled down the cut on his bicep. He cupped the top of his mace and muttered something, then, raising the mace high above his head, he shouted. "The light of Thalmyrion shines eternal, and you will burn in its glow!"


    The head of the lantern-shaped mace roared to life, then the flame abated. There was now a small ball of fire within, no larger than a closed fist. It burned brightly, however, and Green suspected that magical fire wouldn''t be good for someone whose body was made of wood.


    Still, this was a dog, and something had to be done.


    Blue poked towards him, a teasing attack that did little but make him swat his mace at her sword.


    Green moved in from the other direction, ready to stab.


    Which is what she tried to do when he lunged towards Blue, flaming mace swinging from above. She ran in, arm cocked to stab... and then the man stopped and flung his leg back at her. The heel of his boot caught her in the chest, and Green discovered herself falling backwards to land with a clatter.


    "Green!" Blue shouted.


    The man had turned and was now moving towards her at speed.


    She dropped her sword, grabbed the floor, and pushed herself back and out of the way of a slam. She didn''t quite make it.


    There was a heavy crunch as the head of the mace crashed into her lower leg, and Green watched with strange detachment as her leg snapped like an old, rotten table leg under the blow.


    Blue got a quick cut in as repayment, but the damage was done.


    "Ah," Green said. She looked up, but now the man was refocused on Blue. To be fair, was she even a threat anymore?


    "Sword," Red said.


    Green looked over, then caught on. She grabbed her short sword and tossed it up towards Red who caught it out of the air.


    Now armed with twice as many swords, Red rushed towards the Keeper. He parried her swings, but they didn''t tire, and even if they were clumsy, they also didn''t bleed.


    Green tried to stand, and discovered that only having one leg was something of a detriment to that. Still, the fight raged on just a few paces away. Blue kept trying to get a stab in with Red swung and swung, her arms a whirling blur that occasionally created sparks when her swords clashed with the haft of the mace.


    She waited. She might have been somewhat useless, but that wasn''t entirely useless. The fight shifted, came closer...


    Green launched herself forwards. She crashed onto her front, but skidded forwards along the ground.


    Her arms snapped around and gripped onto the man''s leg. She dug her blunt-ended fingers in as hard as she could into the meat of his calf, then shifted and tugged him as best she could to unseat him.


    The man roared, and Green felt a hard blow strike her back. No pain, but the impression of a hard impact against the wood of her torso.


    The distraction was worth it, however.


    Blue lunged forwards from the man''s off side, and her sword dug a handspan into the space between his lower ribs. Black-red blood came pouring out of the wound as she tugged the sword out and then she got a quick swipe in before he swung his mace around to make distance.


    Red used that opportunity to close in, and with a body-spinning slash of both swords, she left two deep slashes along his back and side.


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    The fight was over at that point. The lighthouse keeper stumbled away, tripped as Green pulled his leg out from under him, and his flaming mace clattered away.


    Red put him out of his misery a moment later, shoving her swords into his chest. His last gasp came with a final prayer. "Thalmyrion... forgive me... the light... fades...."


    The three of them stopped, then Green found Blue running over to her. "Ff...ffire," Blue said.


    "Fire?" Green asked. Then she noticed the flames licking up at the edge of her vision. "Fire!"


    Blue ran around the room for a moment, and quickly returned with a large piece of cloth that she threw atop Green, extinguishing the flames.


    Red laughed, then started to tug at her chest. "Eat," she said as she deployed her siphon. The rods holding it in place were a little crooked, but it seemed functional still.


    Green looked at the lighthouse keeper''s body, then nodded.


    While they did their gristly work, and she watched her essence numbers tick up past 200, then into the mid 300s, she considered what to do. Her leg was shattered about mid-calf, the wood nothing but splinters barely hanging onto her articulated foot.


    Her reader stopped at a respectable 384. One lighthouse keeper was worth a dozen peasants, it seemed.


    "Wood," Green said as she turned over and sat down. "Need... wood. R-rope."


    "Fix?" Red asked.


    "Yes," Green said. "Going... fix."


    She couldn''t. Not really. The leg and foot were too complex by far, but a temporary fix might be possible. She eventually pointed to the high-backed chair the keeper had been sitting in, and with judicious use of his mace, one of the legs was ripped off.


    Some rope, found in one of the small storage rooms along the edge of the open space later, and Green was the somewhat proud owner of a peg leg.


    She wasn''t sure it would hold under even a long walk, but when she stood, Red gave her the mace, and it was just long enough that she could plant its head into the ground and use it to keep her weight off the peg leg she''d fashioned.


    Given better tools, she imagined she might be able to do better.


    "Let... us go... up," Blue said.


    "Up," Red agreed.


    There was a spiral staircase running up the interior of the tower. It was quite a lot of steps, each one treacherously small, and with no handrail, but at the very top was a door into the room at the height of the lighthouse, and they wanted to see what was there.


    The others helped her up, even if it might have been wiser to stay below.


    It took a solid half hour to climb, but, once they arrived at the top, the view was almost worth the effort.


    The room at the top of the lighthouse was wide and circular, with large, open windows on all sides. The light of the sun, now much lower than when they''d entered, spilling in and caught on an array of mirrors in the centre of the room.


    An egg floated there. It was round and smooth, its sides unmarred by anything, and it glowed from within brightly enough to rival a bonfire, and yet there was no heat, just pure light.


    Surrounding it, inscribed into the floors, were hundreds of runes written in concentric circles.


    Some sort of complicated magical array, Green supposed, but she knew nothing about it.


    Instead, she stumbled closer to the edge and looked out across the ocean.


    The Gentle Tidings was moored out in the distance, sails tucked away and the ship bobbing on a gentle afternoon wave.


    The golden fields of Yellowfield stretched endlessly to the horizon, interspersed with the glinting blue of distant rivers. The village below looked tiny and insignificant, a scattering of rooftops amid the wildflowers.


    "Pretty," Green said.


    "Pretty," Blue agreed. "Down?"


    There wasn''t much here to take.That egg was larger than they were, and likely difficult to move besides, but they could report that it was here... once they got back to the village below.


    Green looked at the trail she''d have to walk. She decided that she wasn''t looking forward to the trip at all.


    "Down," she said at least, because while it may be painful, it at least promised some comfort at the end, and hope was a stronger guide than any lighthouse.


    ***

 Chapter Fourteen - A Return

    Chapter Fourteen - A Return


    51st Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    The shores of Yellowfield, the Sapphire Ocean, Draya Calyrex


    The ship''s watch noticed a glimmering light on the piers of Shorefarm just a scant few minutes after the sunset. Maldrak was impressed. He wasn''t even certain if the puppets would survive their first outing, and yet here they were, returning early.


    He gave the go-ahead to the ship''s captain, and their boat was lowered into the choppy evening ocean with four stout sailors aboard.


    While they rowed out towards the distant town, he called something of a general assembly in his office. The room only had so much space, so the number of people he could invite was limited. Still, he called upon several trusted members of his crew and some experts whose opinions he desired.


    Magus Suffragus Nocthorn came, as a representative of the younger faction of mages aboard the Gentle Tidings. Mage-Knight Jorvin Ashheel was there as a close confidant and also the leader of their ground forces, as limited as those were at the moment. The captain, of course, was in attendance, and Artisan Artificer Magus Woodbone, as well as his ever-present son, came along as well.


    "So, what''s all this about?" Woodbone asked. As the only other Magus of the same rank as Maldrak, he could afford to be somewhat less than polite. Not that rank had ever stopped the man from speaking his mind.


    He might have been a richer, more renowned artificer if his prickly attitude didn''t stand in the way of his own greatness so often. Maldrak was happy to have him aboard, regardless.


    "The captain''s good men are fetching our puppets now," Maldrak said. They ought to be on their way back. Hopefully with something good to report."


    "Good might be an overstatement," Jorvin said as he leaned back into a plush armchair. "I''ve eyed the coastline. No ships in sight, Viremire in flames, no sign of the army. Back home I had only just heard rumours that something vile might have gone down in Draya Calyrex, but here it seems as if even the worst rumours were greatly understated."


    "Indeed," Maldrak said. "I think it''s about time I illuminate some of what I know."


    Jorvin nodded. "You''ve been preparing for this trip across the ocean for a month, at least. Rumours were only just starting to fly when we left. I''m no diviner, but I sense that you might have known that something was happening before it happened."


    The young magus, Nocthorn, sat up a little at the revelation, but she kept to herself.


    "The truth is," Maldrak began, but there was a knock at the door before he could begin. "Enter," he called out.


    The door opened, and one of his manservants bowed by the entrance. "The puppets are here, milord," he said before stepping aside.


    The three puppets walked into the room.


    "Wyrm''s ass breath, what happened to you lot?" Magus Woobone asked as he took the three in. In his defence, the puppets seemed to be worse for wear.


    The green one was missing a leg... somewhat. The foot was stuck in a pouch by its side, and they''d clearly fashioned a pegleg of sorts to retain some mobility. It looked as though it had been lit aflame as well.


    The red puppet looked like someone had gone to town on it with a hammer, crushing in its chest with repeated blows. One of its arms was mangled as well, covered in deep bite marks.


    By contrast, the blue puppet was merely quite dirty, covered in blood and mud like the others, but otherwise intact.


    "Welcome," Maldrak said. "I would offer you seats, but as you can tell, there is a limited amount of space here, and I believe that you don''t need the rest. Though you certainly need repairs."


    "Yes," the green puppet said with a nod.


    He nodded back. "Let''s put off our prior discussion, gentleman, lady," he said to his companions before gesturing to the puppets. "Report, if you would."


    The puppets paused, then looked at each other, at least the blue and green ones did. "We... go town. Go see... pe-ple. Dogs. Attack?"


    Woodbone snorted. "I''d say that I''m impressed that you''re this articulate after just one day, but truly this is barely coherent."


    "Give them a chance," Maldrak said. "You encountered some people in Shorefarm, then? Peasants?"


    The green puppet nodded. "Mad. Angry. They... attack. Bodies. Lots of bodies. With magic. Lord of town... mad."


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    Maldrak hummed. "Did you encounter the lord of the town directly?"


    The puppet shook its head. "Far."


    "I see. Probably for the best. A lord would have a much greater degree of resistance to the madness spreading across the land. They may have martial training as well," he said.


    "With only a few days of combat training, I can''t see our dear puppets here enduring against a trained warrior," Jorvin said. "Though, they might have. How''d you get that mace?"


    Maldrak glanced at the item that the green puppet was using as a walking stick. It was, in fact, a mace with a metal head. "Fight... light-house," the green puppet said. "Big... man."


    "A lighthouse keeper," Nocthorn said. "They must have been associated with Thalmyrion. I believe that''s the dragon lord in charge of all the lighthouses along the coast."


    "Indeed," Maldrak said. "And that mace matches their weapons of choice. I''m impressed you survived an encounter with such a well-armed man."


    The puppet paused, then shrugged before gesturing at her leg. "Hard."


    "I imagine," he said. "Well done, in any case. Your return alive and... mostly whole, bids well for the rest of this excursion." He took a deep breath. "Do you have anything else to report?"


    The puppet nodded. "Blacksmith. By Shore. Nice? Blind. Gave... This." Reaching to her side, she pulled at a small device hooked to her satchel.


    "Ah, that''s just a gem light, isn''t it?" Magus Woodbone said. "A simple artifice, used by peasants to create light without flame."


    "Captain, do we have a smith onboard?" Maldrak asked.


    The captain shook his head. "No sir. We have some men who know some metal working, but not proper smithing."


    "Good find, then," Maldrak said to the puppets. "We''ll make securing the smith a priority, then."


    "Maldrak," Jorvin said. "What is the point of all this? The continent seems to have lost its mind, and here we are, sending puppets to poke and prod at the corpse of it."


    Maldrak reached up and ran a hand along the side of his jaw. Idly, he realized that he needed to shave. Time at sea was disrupting his normal schedule. "Draya Calyrex has fallen. Some will rush to its carcass to make themselves wealthy, and I will admit some interest in the same. A nation as prosperous as this one, suddenly having all of its wealth unguarded for the taking... it will attract adventurous sorts, mercenaries, and more. But the reason we''re here is... something else. In fact, it is twofold. First, we need to know what has befallen this land, to prevent the loss of civilization from spreading across the world itself. And second... I do not advertise the fact very widely, but I do have a daughter. She is a talented Magus Discipulus at the Avaris Myrcana Academy. If the nation has fallen, then there''s still a chance that the academy is holding its own. This location, by the Yellowfields, is not so distant from the Academy."


    "So, this is a rescue operation?" Jorvis asked as he sat up. "Give me ten good men and a boat to get to the shore, my friend, and I''ll have your daughter back in a fortnight."


    "No," Maldrak said. "The risk is far too grand. And I believe that if we are to breach the academy itself, I will need to be present. Trust in this plan of mine, please. If all else fails, then perhaps we will risk a suicidal run towards Avaris Myrcana ourselves, but there is a better way."


    Jorvis stared at him, then sat back. "Fine," he said.


    "Thank you," Maldrak said. He turned to the puppets. "Have you gathered much essence?" he asked.


    The green one nodded, and the slat at the front of her chest moved down, revealing the small essence counter. It sat around the upper three hundreds. More than enough.


    "Good. Magus Woodbone, could you begin the transfer?"


    "Overnight?" the artificer asked.


    "It will give them an entire day to become used to their new bodies," he said. "That''s as much time as we can afford to give them. Past that and we may begin to run out of time, though I''m not certain that the disaster unfolding in the continent is a rapid one."


    "Body?" the puppet asked.


    "Indeed," Maldrak said. He sat up, then eyed each of them in turn. "So far you''ve done an admirable job on the task I set out for you. Let me prove that I can make your loyalty worthwhile. Serve me well, do as I ask, help me discover what happened on this mainland, and save my kin, and I''ll reward you with a life better than the ones you lost."


    ***

 Chapter Fifteen - A Body

    Chapter Fifteen - A Body


    52nd Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    The shores of Yellowfield, the Sapphire Ocean, Draya Calyrex


    "Can''t believe I''m working at this time of day at my age," Artificer Woodbone said as he walked ahead of them into the laboratory in the lower decks of the Gentle Tidings. As he entered the room just ahead of Green, the mage snapped his fingers and a bracelet around his wrist glowed for just a moment before every light in the room came on at once.


    It illuminated a familiar space, the first space that Green ever remembered seeing.


    The laboratory was a strange and eldritch place to Green. Tools hung from the walls and there were several workstations filling up much of the walking space. The back of the room had shelves. Some of these were filled with books, and more were filled with small, esoteric devices and crates filled with raw materials.


    There had been concessions made, to account for the fact that they were onboard a ship. Braces and netting set up to hold things in place, but under the dim light of crystalline bulbs hanging from the ceiling, Green could imagine this being in some deep, dark cave.


    "Brian," Artificer Woodbone said.


    The young man usually found near him perked up. He was at the back of the group, trailing behind Red. "Yes?" he asked.


    "Set up the puppets. We''ll get this over with tonight," Woodbone said. Then he turned and eyed the three of them one at a time while his son slipped by and started to pull a chest out of a shelf at the back. "In a way, I''m your father. Though I think the true title ought to go to Magus Maldrak. What I made for you are bodies. They are well-crafted. Not my magnum opus, but nonetheless the result of four decades of cumulative study and practice. There are perhaps a handful of artificers better than I... perhaps I''m the best, now that Draya Calyrex has fallen. Hmph."


    Brian brought the chest next to a bed made of unfolding wooden boards that he quickly locked into place. The chest was opened, and from it, he raised a form covered in a thin sheet which he placed upon the bed. It had human proportions, even under the sheet.


    "Did you name yourselves?" the old artificer asked.


    Green refocused on him, then nodded. "Yes? Green. Blue. Red. But... names are..."


    "Undignified," Blue said.


    "Yes," Green said.


    Red shrugged. "Don''t care."


    "Hmph," Woodbone said. "Those names won''t do, I''m afraid. ''Blue'' here is correct. They lack the dignity required. For the bodies you have now, perhaps they are sufficient, but for my artifice? No, you need better."


    Brian swept the sheet off, and Green turned to stare.


    There was a body on the bed.


    It was a puppet''s body. Long limbs of a pale wood, covered in faint engravings of leaves and branches. The joints were all silver and steel, again covered in engravings, but these seemed more purposeful, with runes carved deep into the metal.


    The proportions weren''t quite human. The chest was perhaps a little too small, and the head was merely a faceless oval, with some slight carving to hint at a nose and cheeks. No hair, just a few metal bands running over the forehead. The puppet''s eyes stared up at the ceiling, sightlessly.


    The puppet had no indications of gender. The hips were thin and narrow, the chest flat. It was perfectly androgynous in a way that made Green somehow more uncomfortable than if it wasn''t.


    "This is you," Woodbone said, gesturing to her. "This body will be you, rather. It isn''t just a lump of wood. Within are magical conductors, some of the most intricate joints you''ll ever see, and a few tricks that I picked up here and there. The wood is dragon''s oak. Wood from an oak grown while being fed dragon manure. The steel is dragon forged as well, keeping a tiny sliver of essence, and it is plated in unreactive silver, for resistance to magic and rust."


    "Pretty," Green said.


    "Hmph, it''s plain. Expensive, certainly, but plain. Each of these are worth as much as a noble''s carriage. Which is to say, a lot, but nothing someone like Magus Maldrak would hesitate to spend to get what he wants. No, the real magic is already in you."


    Green gestured to herself. "Me?"


    "All three of you. Your cores, and the essence you have. Using it previously empowered you, but these bodies you have now are waste wood and junk parts." The Artificer shook his head. "Whatever essence you absorbed previously did nothing to those bodies. From now on, however? This is magic wood and magic steel, wrapped around magical circles. Absorb essence, and it will react to your very souls."


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    "What... what means?"


    He squinted. "It means that you will grow. Murder enough and you will grow strong indeed. How you grow? Well, that''ll depend on the wants of your soul. Perhaps you will toughen yourself against harm. Perhaps you will move with greater dexterity, perhaps more strength? Or maybe your stolen essence will gather and unlock something else. Potential. That is what Magus Maldrak asked me, it''s what enticed me to try this in the first place. Potential."


    "P...potential," Green said.


    "Which is why," he said as he crossed his arms. "I can''t accept you naming yourself something like Green. That name lacks gravitas. It lacks conviction. What will the world say when they hear whispers of Woodbone''s greatest creation, and its name is Green? Hmph!"


    Green wished she could smile. There was something about this man, even with his gruff attitude and his rudeness, that made her feel like he was actually quite kind.


    "Okay," she said. "Not Green."


    "Yes. Something with a bit more grandeur. Or at least something more solemn," he said.


    "Is it truly so important, father?" Artificer Brian asked.


    "Obviously, yes," the old man said. "How about Dreadmourn? Or Noctivane?"


    Green tilted her head. "No?"


    "No. Those are rightly the names of some old mages. Come here, you. Lay down on this." He gestured to a free bed, and Green walked over to it. She turned, then awkwardly shuffled up and onto the bed. Brian moved over and helped her up, then a strap was run up and over her arms and chest, then her legs, locking her into place. "Ah, maybe something thematic. Green... hmm, Verdigris? No, that''s inappropriate. You ought not call yourself something that means ''rust.''"


    The man leaned over her, then he picked up a tiara-like device that he fit over his head. He lowered some lenses over his eyes, then reached over and grabbed some tools. They looked like chisels.


    "Green, green, green," he muttered.


    She jumped as he brought the chisel around and stabbed into the cask around her chest. A wrench later, and wood splintered. The man continued to mutter, even as he carved into her.


    Green felt rising trepidation as she suddenly lost one leg, then the other. Then both men worked together and ripped her arms out of their sockets. It didn''t hurt, but it certainly felt... violating.


    "Ah! Here''s that pesky connector," she heard him mutter.


    Then her world went dark, and all sound disappeared.


    All that remained was the impression that she was being jostled about on occasion. No warmth, no sound, no light. Green was in a limbo of pure nothing, unable to even claw away at the dark.


    She worried that she might be stuck here forever.


    Time moved on. Or perhaps it didn''t. After the first few minutes, she lost the sense of whether things were moving on even in time.


    And then there was a bright burst of light, and she found herself staring up at the ceiling once more, though, not from the same angle, exactly.


    Woodbone''s head came into view. "Move your eyes," he said.


    She moved her eyes left and right, catching sight of the other puppets in the corner of the room and the rest of the lab. "How long?" she asked.


    Her voice was much the same, but she had the impression that the rest of her wasn''t. There was a sharp pain, then a tingle, and she became aware of suddenly being in possession of a leg, then another.


    "Oh, an hour or so," Woodbone said. "This is going along well enough. Your first use of essence will smooth things out, but that''ll have to wait until tomorrow. I have two more transfers to complete."


    "Okay," she said.


    "Ah, but I do have a bit of good news," he said.


    "Yes?" she asked.


    She was sat up, Brian pushing her from behind, then a section of the bed was locked at a higher angle. She could see the room better now, and her naked form. She was smaller than she''d thought, from seeing the puppet on the bed. A little smaller than her previous body, even.


    But this body was better. She turned her hand, slowly, and looked down upon it. This was no puck with fat, jointed fingers sticking out of it. It was an articulated hand. A palm that could move, a thumb with several degrees of articulation, fingers that were long and delicate and which seemed almost human.


    Almost.


    "We continued to converse while you were out. The others even chipped in," he said. "Welcome to your new self, Viridian."


    ***

 Chapter Sixteen - New Names

    Chapter Sixteen - New Names


    52nd Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    The shores of Yellowfield, the Sapphire Ocean, Draya Calyrex


    "Must be nice, not needing to sleep," Mage-Knight Jorvin said as he climbed up the rearmost deck of the ship. He had a tin mug in one hand, a thin stream of steam coming off the top, and under his other arm was a leather-wrapped bundle with several handles sticking out of it.


    "Hello," Green--no, her name wasn''t Green any longer. She had to override that thought. It was Viridian now--said. "Good morning."


    "Good morning," the puppet next to her said.


    The third and last just nodded.


    Telling her companions apart might have been tricky, what with the three of them having identical bodies, but their personalities shone through anyway.


    "So, I heard through the grapevine that the old man insisted on getting you lot proper names?" Jorvin said as he set his mug down, then placed the bundle of weapons he carried onto the floor.


    "Viridian," Viridian said. She was quite proud of the name. Perhaps there was some truth to what others had said, about gravitas and dignity.


    "I am Lazur," the puppet formerly known as Blue said. Lazur crossed her naked arms and stood a little straighter, her head tilting up proudly. The name was supposed to make allusions to some sort of gem, while also being close in sound to a particular shade of blue. It had taken her the longest to find a name she was satisfied with, and Viridian wasn''t sure if she was going to stick to this one for long.


    "Carnel," Red said.


    "Carnelian," Lazur corrected, but all that did was earn her a flat look from Carnel, which was impressive, as they all only had one look to give.


    Jorvin let out a short breath from his nose. "Right. Well, nice to meet you. We''re going to have to skip past most of the pleasantries though. We have a busy day ahead of us. The Magus wants you out again at first light tomorrow. That leaves us with one day to train you back into fighting shape. How are the new bodies?"


    Viridian raised her hand up, then opened and closed it. The new bodies were nice in some ways. Her joints had a much wider range of motion, and were a lot more complex. She hadn''t realized how stiff and limited her previous body had been, and how much that contributed to how clumsy they were. Now any clumsiness was entirely her own fault.


    She found herself a little shorter. Where before her eyes were even with Jorvin''s, now she met his nose, but that change in height wasn''t as bad as the sudden shortening of her arms. It wasn''t too much, but she had the impression that she couldn''t reach as far, and it was throwing her off.


    The only other issue was the weight.


    Her first body had been... not very good, she realized. But it was light. Thin straps of wood and small joints. This body had thicker, sturdier limbs, more like a human''s in form and function, but they came with a lot more mass.


    She didn''t feel that much stronger. So just standing up, walking, swinging her arm out, or turning, felt like it required a lot more effort and came much slower.


    "I am... not as fast," she said. "Heavier, too."


    "Huh, we''re going to have to work on that. Heavier can be good, in a fight. Mass has a way of deciding fights sometimes. But your reach looks worse and if you''re slower, you won''t be able to make up for the difference as easily." Jorvin nodded, then he undid a thin leather strap holding the bundle he carried.


    It revealed three training swords. The same they''d used before.


    "Short swords, still?" Carnel asked.


    "Yes," Jorvin said. "But I''ll be offering you a wider selection of choices as well. But if you want to survive, then it''s better to know one weapon well then a hundred with only passing familiarity. I saw the swords you used during your last excursion. The edges were all nicked, the tips blunted, and one of them had the point rolled so hard I''m not sure it could puncture a toad''s skin. Still, it looks like they came in handy."


    "They worked," Lazur said. "I don''t prefer them, but they worked."


    "Good," he said. "Besides, our arsenal is a little limited, at the moment. Had I known more about what was going on here, I''d have brought more weapons aboard. As it is, short swords, small spears, and boarding axes are your weapons of choice. The offices have some cutlasses as well, but they''re all fancy things. Good enough to cut open a pirate if it comes to it, but they''re meant to be pretty first."


    "I want an axe," Carnel said.


    Jorvin eyed her, then nodded. "Let''s finish training with these in the morning. I''ll see about teaching you how to handle an axe later. But boarding axes aren''t proper weapons."


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    "What''s the difference?" Veridian asked.


    "A weapon is designed for combat first and foremost. Setting aside any comforts, a perfect weapon should be comfortable to use and effective in its task of taking lives."


    He grabbed one of the training short swords and spun it through the air before going through a few quick forms. The wooden sword hummed as he slashed the air, then lunged into a few quick jabs.


    "A stick can be a weapon, but a crafted weapon should be something honed and tailored to its task. In that respect, you will find certain forms across history returning over and over. The spear is one, the sword another, the halberd a third. The axe is a poor weapon. Its function is to rend and chop, where often the thrust is the superior killing motion. However, under certain conditions, the chop is the correct motion and in that case, the axe is appropriate. There is a reason that they are still found on the battlefield, even if they are inferior in some respects."


    Carnel stared at him, then nodded. "Okay," she said.


    Jorvin had them grab a sword each, and then line up. Viridian felt strangely naked as she stood there with only a sword in hand, going through the motions of the forms the Mage-Knight showed them.


    He ran them through several drills, and as they didn''t tire, he never let up. He barked instructions, had them make changes to how they stood and held their swords, then came in and corrected their stances in small ways.


    She was slower. The impression was only solidified as she ran through the exercises under Jorvin''s watchful eye.


    Then the knight had them spar against him. Three on one.


    She thought they might stand a chance. They''d taken out that man at the lighthouse, and he hadn''t been a pushover.


    Instead, Viridian spent the next half hour being thrown to the floor, disarmed, and tripped while Jorvin danced around the three of them. It was frustrating how someone so big could simply dance around them as though this were nothing but a game to him.


    "Well," he said as the sun hit its zenith above. "You''re not complete lost causes, but you''re not exactly strong. I''ve seen squires with only a week''s training who were leagues ahead of you. If you come across anything that isn''t an emaciated, unarmed villager, then I wouldn''t even give you even odds."


    "Can we be better?" Viridian asked.


    "You''re getting better," he said. "What you need is time and experience. Unfortunately, I think we''re short on one of those." Jorvin grabbed a small piece of cloth and rubbed his sweaty face down. "Let''s see about getting you armoured."


    "Armoured?" Carnel asked.


    "Yes. Even the most basic soldier will have a gambeson, at the very least. You have no muscles to tire, so I can''t see a reason not to have you carry some amount of armour on your selves. Though it will slow you down further."


    Viridian was excited for a moment. She didn''t like the idea of heading out naked as she was. There was nothing to show on her puppet body, but... something about not being clothed felt wrong on some fundamental level.


    Unfortunately, she was soon disappointed in what the Mage-Knight had to offer.


    He brought them down to a level below the main deck where the ship''s quartermaster pulled out the only armour they had available. The gambesons were nothing impressive to look at. Rather, they were thickly padded shirts coloured an uninspired beige, with ties running down the front.


    "We''ve got caps too," the quartermaster said. "Don''t use ''em much. Sometimes at port we''ll outfit some of the boys as guards and station them ''round the ship, to keep people''s minds in the right place."


    He went into the stock room and returned with a trio of caps made of soft-boiled leather with metal plates around them and a small brim at the front. They were also far from pretty.


    "It will do," Viridian said as she took one of the caps and turned it over. It would do... but it was also very ugly. For some reason, that bothered her, though not as much as being undressed. She looked past the quartermaster, and her eyes caught something which she pointed at. "What''s that?"


    "This?" he asked as he reached back. "It''s a sewing kit. Thread and needles and the like. Our boys go through clothes fast, especially when we''re out at sea for a while. Give them a few months, and some of them are stitching rags together to make it through one more day."


    Viridian stared. "I want that," she said.


    The quartermaster stared back, then shrugged. "I can sell it to you. And if you don''t have the coin, well, I''m sure we can arrange something with the purser."


    ***

 Chapter Seventeen - A Rich Land

    Chapter Seventeen - A Rich Land


    52nd Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    The shores of Yellowfield, the Sapphire Ocean, Draya Calyrex


    Maldrak had had many enemies throughout his life, but the most persistent of them, and the one that always won, was time.


    He was worrying about that foe now while looking over a map of the Yellowfields. The space was quite large. Enough to be a nation onto itself, albeit a small one. The Yellowfields were so named because they were covered in a sea of wheat for much of the year.


    With dragon dung as fertilizer, the locals didn''t need to rotate their fields at all, and their wheat grew so quickly that it wasn''t unheard of for farmers here to harvest three times in one year. There was a legend of a year with five harvests, when Aurynth the Golden blessed the birth of a human noble born into the family of his dragon lords. Though that legend was several hundreds of years old.


    The truth was simple, however. The Yellowfields produced enough to feed an empire. The land was relatively vast, fertile, and had been civilized for a long time. Villages were spread out a half-day''s ride from each other across the plateaus and the taxmen of the dragon lords passed to collect the harvest twice a year.


    It was enough wheat, once turned into bread and the like, to feed a hundred million souls. The estimated population of Draya Calyrex as a whole. Perhaps it was an even greater number, actually.


    The nation had a history of growing too large on its own richness, at which point it would form grand armies to scour neighbouring kingdoms and pillage their way across the world. It happened every few hundred years. Long enough for relations to stabilize and for enemies to believe that they were friends once more.


    But that was history.


    What was happening now would be history as well, but it was history in the making.


    The door to his office opened, and three puppets toddled in. He looked up at them, then chuckled. The three were in gambesons, with steel-plated caps upon their heads. The equipment was ill-fitting, meant for large sailors, not rather petite puppets, but that was fine.


    "Welcome," he said before gesturing to three seats across from his desk. "Sit, please."


    "Thank you," the green one---Viridian, was it?--said. "Report?"


    "No, this is the opposite, in fact. Tomorrow, at the break of dawn, you will be leaving for your second excursion onto the mainland. I believe that this is as good a time as any for us to outline some objectives."


    The three perked up at that. "What will we be doing?" Lazur asked.


    "Your last excursion had two set objectives. You completed one, and for good reason, failed the other. This time... hmm, perhaps I should approach this from another angle." He leaned back into his seat and stared at the map on the desk. "My objective in this specific region is to establish a beachhead. A safe port of recall. There are other factions currently pushing into the mainland, no doubt pillaging as they go, and they will certainly be doing the same. I don''t want to have to go through them to do as I please."


    "We''re making a port?" Viridian asked.


    "We''re taking one over. The village you explored. It''s small, but the location is strategically sound. The bay hides us from view, and it''s well known as a location of unimportance. Anyone seeing us here may well dismiss our presence. The frequent fog may help as well."


    The puppets nodded. It was smoother than it had once been, he noted.


    "Now, here''s the overall plan. I want you to clear the village as a whole, then march up to Shorefarm itself. The town will need to be... cleansed of anyone who has fallen too deeply into the madness that blights this land. There are also several points of interest that I want secured. A mine for tin and iron, the farms around the town itself, and perhaps most importantly, the lord''s mansion and the local mage''s tower. That last is paramount to my future plans."


    "What are your future plans?" Lazur asked.


    "We''ll see once we get there," he said. "For now, trust me when I say that I''d rather have things be loose but flexible rather than take any great risks pushing for something untenable."


    "What will happen once we... sec...secure all the places?" Viridian asked.


    "The Gentle Tidings will dock. We have supplies onboard for quite some time, and we can decontaminate some soil and water to grow more. The houses and buildings of Shorefarm will be requisitioned. It''s not as though there''s a governing body ruling over them any longer. Any citizen in good health will be drafted to assist us as we rebuild. The goal, in the short term, is to establish a secure location to work from. After which we will be communicating with some companions using long-ranged magic to inform them of the location and its safety."


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    "How long is this going to take?" Lazur asked.


    "Months," Maldrak said. "It will take months. By that time, the news will have spread further still, and even those slow to act will be rushing here to grab what they can. They will likely be unaware of the dangers, and unprepared. Make no mistake, Draya Calyrex has fallen, and with it millions have died, but the last toll of death has yet to ring on this land."


    "Enemies?" Carnel asked.


    "I have few," Maldrak said. "But our efforts might create some. Some will desire what we have and what we create, others will simply want less competition in the race to pillage the nation. There will be locals as well. There are lords whose madness will take different forms. Some will do unspeakable evil, others will rage, but still others will be cold and calculating. Draya Calyrex had one of the largest standing armies in the world. Some of its cities had more guards than other nations have soldiers. They will be roused, and they will try to reconquer their own land in the name of new warlords."


    "We will fight," Carnel said.


    "And you will grow stronger," he replied. "To that end, one of the purposes of this beachhead is to create a space for you as well. Artisan Artificer Magus Woodbone will be setting up a workshop early on. One which you may be entitled to use for your own needs. Your forms are human-like, but they need not remain that way."


    It was interesting to see that the three had gained some amount of body language that was readable with the shift in their bodies. Viridian was uncomfortable with the idea, Lazur didn''t seem to care, but Carnel was eager.


    "You leave at first light. Are you ready?" he asked.


    The three nodded, but then Viridian paused and shook her head. "Not strong enough, yet," she said.


    "We can fight," Carnel disagreed.


    "The lord of the village was strong. He felt dangerous," she said.


    Maldrak nodded in turn. "The man, did he have any particular decorations about him?" he asked.


    "Robes. A sash," she said.


    "Then he was likely a lesser lord. Beneath even the baron who rules over Shorefarm. More of a mayor than anything. Yes, he would have some amount of draconic favour, but he is likely a third-son of the baron''s family. Not that that indicates too much with regards to his personal strength."


    Leaning back, Maldrak rubbed at his chin while thinking. Could they take something like that on? Perhaps. With trickery and deception and luck.


    Was the risk worth it?


    "I will be giving you a tool to assist you, then," he replied after some consideration. "It will kill or weaken the lord at no cost to you."


    "And the villagers?" Viridian asked. "There were many."


    He frowned, but conceded that they could likely not take on so many. "Speak to the ship''s alchemist. He''s a young man, Alchemist Magus Discipulus Mossthorn. In fact, let me call him now."


    It was a simple matter of ringing a bell and instructing the manservant who answered to fetch the young magus. Some scant minutes later a young man stumbled into the room, seeming wide-eyed and disheveled.


    "Ah, sir Magus, how can I assist?" he asked. He was a youth, not yet thirty summers old, with unruly hair and his face and skin marred by alchemical burns.


    "Alchemist Mossthorn," Maldrak said. "We need your assistance. These three will be going ashore tomorrow, to face some strong odds. How many villagers must you subdue?"


    "Two... three dozen?" Viridian said. "With mad eyes. Slow, but magical."


    "Oh, I see," the alchemist said. "Ah, and these puppets... they don''t require breathing, yes?"


    "They do not," Maldrak confirmed.


    "Well... in that case, I''m certain I can help, Magus Maldrak, sir."


    Maldrak smiled. At least some things were coming together. He just hoped to resolve enough matters before his oldest nemesis caught up to him.


    ***

 Chapter Eighteen - A Goal

    Chapter Eighteen - A Goal


    53rd Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    The shores of Yellowfield, the Sapphire Ocean, Draya Calyrex


    The moon was just a thin sliver in the sky at the moment, but it was enough to see by.


    They were gathered on the deck of the Gentle Tidings, the three of them bundled up with their gambesons and caps and now three backpacks sitting on their backs. The bags were on loan from the ship''s quartermaster, and they occasionally clinked as they moved.


    "Ah, you''re here already," Jorvin said as he stepped out of the ship''s cabin. The tall mage-knight was carrying three long sticks in one large hand, and looked only somewhat exhausted by the early hour.


    Around them, the ship''s crew was bustling as they loaded up the boat and lifted it towards the edge of the ship. Ropes and pulleys and a small crane were being moved about to lower it into the somewhat choppy waters of the ocean.


    "Hello," Viridian said. "What are those?"


    Jorvin grinned. "Those are my last gift to you three before you head out, but first, you''ll want these." He had three swords in his off hand.


    Viridian took one, and looked it over, tugging the blade out of its sheath to inspect it. It was the same sort of short sword they''d used in their last excursion, down to the little pattern number stamped on the hilt. She nodded, then started to strap the sword in around her hip where it would be easily accessible.


    "These," Jorvin said as he raised the poles and let their bottom tap the deck. "Are pikes. Boarding pikes, to be precise." The pikes were a little taller than the puppets, with narrow heads no thicker than a thumb joint and just a little shorter than the length of her hand from heel to fingertip.


    "How do we use them?" Carnel asked.


    Jorvin handed one to Carnel and the other to Viridian, but he used the last to show them. "You hold it along the haft, here. One hand almost at the rear, to allow you leverage and control over the tip. When you want to stab, push forwards and use your leading hand to guide the tip. The spearhead isn''t a blade. You can puncture and little else, but it is sharp, and you''ll be able to punch even through thin armour with little difficulty if you put some weight into it."


    Jorvin gestured at Carnel''s hip, and she pulled out her short sword and handed it to him.


    "When engaging in a fight, hold your sword like this, and the pike like so." He demonstrated a grip where his back hand held the pike and the short sword''s hilt at the same time, and his forward hand had its thumb pressing down on the flat of the blade. "It means that when your pike is stuck, you can immediately let go and start cutting or stabbing with the sword. A lot of foes won''t be ready to switch so easily."


    "Easy," Carnel said.


    "I make it look easy, yes," he said with a confident grin before giving her the sword back and then handing the pike to Lazur. "In a pinch, swing the pike wide and hard. With a good amount of leverage it can deliver a fatal blow, or knock someone back. But it''s primarily a thrusting weapon. If you make it back in one piece, I''ll show you three how to use a shield."


    "We have shields?" Viridian asked.


    "No, but there are carpenters on this ship," he said. "And a small shield isn''t complex work."


    Viridian nodded. A shield might be nice to have. She didn''t particularly care to be hit, but if it came to it, she''d rather have a shield take the blow than her all-new body.


    The puppets all straightened as three figures stepped onto the main deck. Magus Maldrak, the captain, and Artificer Woodbone the younger.


    "Ah, you three seem ready," Maldrak said as he looked them over. He nodded. "Good. First, you''ve received the items from our alchemist?"


    "Yes," Viridian said.


    "Let''s hope they serve you well," he said before reaching into a pocket of his robes. He pulled out a tube. It was wooden, with intricate carvings all around its haft. "This is the weapon I spoke of. It is a weapon designed to be used in ship-to-ship combat by non-mages. It''s a pre-recorded spell, similar to the disks I gave you previously."


    "Can we have more?" Lazur asked. "Disks. Spells."


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    Magus Maldrak blinked, then nodded. "Return, and I''ll see to it. Perhaps by then you''ll have taken in enough essence to justify the frequent use of magic. In the meantime, take this."


    Lazur took the tube and looked it over.


    "The activation is at the rear. Twist the knob, then point the end with the hole towards your foe. It will fire a trio of small spells. These are mostly harmless and should be used to aim, and then the primary spell will be cast."


    "It''s one of the few we have onboard," the captain said. "I hope it serves you well."


    "You may discard it after, or return it," Maldrak said. "In either case, it should be enough to dispose of a single stronger foe."


    "Thank you," Viridian said before Lazur could start asking the magus for the robes off his back as well.


    He nodded. "Artificer Magus Brian here is going to assist you in infusing your essence, and then I suspect that it will be time for you three to be off once more."


    Viridian stood up straighter, then hurried to open the front of her gambeson to allow the artificer access to her chest. Another reason to dislike the bulky garment. There had to be a better way to make armoured clothes so that her siphon could be deployed without having to remove several layers and knots.


    Soon enough, the artificer was extracting the essence she''d collected, and it was quickly purified in his little device and a glowing vial was reslotted into her chest.


    And then Viridian hummed contentedly as the magic flowed through her. She felt it wash around the inside of her core, an ecstatic, warm feeling that then spread out across her entire body. She couldn''t truly feel her body, but as the essence flowed out she almost had the impression that she could, if only for a moment.


    And then the feeling faded, and Viridian was herself once more.


    Or was she?


    She raised her hand and clasped it open and closed a few times. "Will this change me?" she asked.


    "Such a small quantity will have minimal effect," Magus Maldrak said. "Though minimal isn''t to be confused with none. It will strengthen you, and change you as well. Your new bodies are capable of such. The more you take in, the faster the changes will come."


    "How long until they''re no longer pushovers?" Jorvin asked.


    "That may take some time," Maldrak said. "I estimate that it would take a hundred thousand units of essence to reach the level of a Mage-Knight."


    A hundred thousand? Viridian boggled at the amount. One peasant''s death, not shared with her puppet companions, was worth almost a hundred such points. They''d need to end the lives of a thousand peasants each then.


    A town''s worth, for one of them to reach Jorvin''s level. Three, if they shared equally. "So many," she said.


    "There are ample places to gain that many and more," Magus Maldrak said. "Have no fear. Given time, you will reach such levels. But not if you stay on this deck. Captain, let''s lower that boat and see our friends off for the morning."


    They clambered onboard the boat, and with a final good bye and good luck from the Magus, the boat was lowered into the choppy early morning waters and the sailors started to row them out to shore.


    Viridian stood as still as she could while the thick fog coalesced around her and the waves splashed against the side of their boat, some of the spritz catching on her gambeson.


    She supposed that being as strong as Jorvin was a good goal to set, for the moment. It was far, but it was... doable.


    And yet, for as strong as Jorvin felt, Maldrak was so much more. A bonfire next to a torch.


    "Focus," Lazur said. "First, the village. Then we continue to grow."


    "Stronger," Carnel said. "We grow stronger. Kill, reap, repeat."


    "Yes," Lazur said before turning her puppet head towards Shorefarm. "Yes, because there is much to do, and we can only do it once we are strong."


    In due time, their boat arrived around the piers of the town, just as the sun started to crest the distant horizon. They stepped off, with greater ease than just some days prior. Her essence counter was set to zero at the moment, but she didn''t expect it to stay there. Fingering her pike and running her hand over the hilt of her sword, Viridian prepared herself. Today would be a red day.


    ***

 Chapter Nineteen An Ambush

    Chapter Nineteen An Ambush


    53rd Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era


    Shorefarm, Yellowfield, Draya Calyrex


    The little village by the shore had changed little in the day that they''d been absent. Perhaps that was the fog, obscuring any deterioration, or perhaps the town didn''t have any further to sink from the abandoned ruin it already was, but in any case, Veridian didn''t notice anything strange as they stalked along the piers.


    "Left," Carnel said. "We find lord, kill them."


    Viridian paused, then shook her head. "No. Right." she pointed. "Blacksmith. I want to... talk to Tomas. I brought food."


    "That is why you brought food?" Lazur asked.


    They had been together the entire time they were on the Gentle Tidings, so of course Lazur had noticed her walking up to the ship''s mess and stealing a few loaves of bread.


    "Yes," Viridian said. "He was nice." She reached down and touched the small light hanging by her side. It had a place on her belt now, where it could light her way if she opened it in a time of need.


    "Waste of time," Carnel said.


    Viridian suspected that the puppet might be right. Being kind didn''t often result in good things happening in return, but... "Please?" she said.


    "Might give us weapons," Lazur said. "If we save him, he will be able to smith for us later."


    "Hmm," Carnel said. "Fine."


    Viridian led the way, walking with her pike held by her side and her eyes clicking as she scanned the area ahead of them. They weren''t ambushed by a dog, this time, but she almost wished they were.


    The corpse of the first dog they had killed was laying in the middle of the street. Its sides had been ripped open, and its insides eaten. She wished that it had been some other dogs, or carrion birds that had done it, but there were bloody handprints on the ground around the dog.


    They made it to the corner where they''d stuffed the bodies of a few peasants. They were missing now. So, someone had cleaned at least that much.


    They managed to make it out of the town without incident, and walked over to the smithy tucked into the hills. It was still very early, the sun only recently risen, so she wasn''t surprised to see no smoke coming from the smithy, and yet... it bothered her all the same.


    "Hello?" she called out as she arrived at the front. Tomas wasn''t behind the anvil, or anywhere within.


    Stepping past the entrance, she carefully made her way to the door of the house proper and knocked.


    "Hello?" she asked, louder this time.


    There was only a faint moan in reply.


    Reaching down, she twisted the handle and discovered it unlocked.


    The inside of Tomas''s shack was dimly lit, with only slivers of morning light filtering through the warped wooden slats of the walls. She hesitated at the threshold, fingers tightening around her pike.


    Lazur stepped up behind her and scanned the room. "Not good," she said.


    Carnel huffed. "If dead, we leave."


    Viridian clicked her eyes across the room, scanning for movement. The forge was cold, the tools left in disarray, as though abandoned mid-use. Metal shavings dusted the ground, but they were dulled by a darker stain smeared along the floorboards, leading toward the back of the shack.


    The moan came again.


    Carnel followed the sound first, stepping into the next room. Viridian followed quickly, her unease growing. The small living space was sparse; little more than a cot pushed against the far wall, a battered chest at its foot, and a rickety table where a few plates sat. A small pantry was tucked into the corner next to an iron stove. The pantry was noticeably empty.


    Tomas lay in his cot, breathing hard. His skin was pallid, his face twisted in pain. Sweat drenched his clothes. "Who... who is it?" he asked. "The lord has taken more from me. I cannot spare any more, even if Aurynth the Golden itself were to beg it of me."


    "It''s me," she said. "Viridian."


    A long silence followed, then a slow exhale. "Ah... the girl."


    She stepped closer, scanning his face. His blindfold was still in place, but his breathing was uneven, shallow. The tremor in his limbs was subtle, but she saw it, the way his fingers curled involuntarily.


    "You''re sick," she said.


    A dry chuckle escaped him. "No, child. I am starving. The lord mayor has decreed that to survive the loss of this season''s harvest and to repay the taxman when he comes, we are to tighten our belts. I thought I''d given enough, but they found more to take. Next, it might be me that''s taken, added to that pile of corpses and wishes in the town square."


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    Viridian shifted, slowly removing her pack. She set it on the floor, then opened the flap on the top. Within were a half-dozen glass bottles, with cork stoppers at their top and long strings wrapped around their necks.


    She fished within, then returned with a loaf of bread. It was hard, even she could tell, but it was bread, and while it had a few weevils, it wasn''t rotten. "Here," she said. "It''s food."


    She reached down and opened Tomas''s hand, then placed the loaf within his grasp.


    "Oh," he said. He took the bread, but he also grabbed her hand in his. His grip was solid, even as weak as he was. His fingers ran over hers, and she saw his brow knit. "Wooden girl," he said. "Thank you."


    "Repay us later," Carnel said.


    Viridian turned to stare at the puppet, but Tomas replied before she could rebuke her. "I will. Thank you."


    Eventually she nodded and pulled her hand back. Tomas was weak but alive, and that was enough for now. She could only hope that by the time they returned, he would be better.


    "Stay hidden," she said, her voice quieter than usual. "Eat slow."


    Tomas chuckled softly. "Aye, I know better than to gorge. Besides¡­ there''s no rush. It''s not like I have much else to do."


    Viridian stood, stepping back. Carnel had already turned toward the door, clearly ready to move on. Lazur lingered a moment longer, eyes flicking toward the forge, then to Tomas.


    "No work?" Lazur asked.


    Tomas shook his head. "No metal left worth forging. And even if there was¡­ no one to buy my labour. Just prayers and promises now."


    Lazur hummed in thought. "If we win, you will work again."


    Tomas smiled at that. "That so? Well, you know where to find me." He clutched the bread a little tighter. "Be careful, wooden girl."


    Viridian nodded once before following the others out into the morning light. She didn''t look back.


    The fog had lifted slightly, revealing more of the ruined town.


    "Now left?" Carnel asked.


    Viridian took a slow breath, then nodded. "Left."


    They moved in formation, with Carnel at the front, Lazur at the rear, Viridian in the center. The mist clung to the streets of the ruined village, swirling around the empty homes and sagging rooftops like ghostly fingers.


    The town square lay ahead. Even through the thickening fog, Viridian could see the pile of corpses. It was larger than when they had last seen it by a body or three. Had those they killed been added to the heap?


    She clicked her eyes, scanning the area. No movement. No sound beyond the distant lap of waves against the shore.


    "Too quiet," Carnel muttered. Her fingers flexed around the hilt of her sword.


    Viridian nodded. There should have been something. Dogs sniffing for scraps, birds picking at the remains. Instead, only the fog moved.


    Lazur tilted her head. "Wait," she whispered. "We hide and prepare. Then ambush. Greater success that way."


    Viridian froze. So did Carnel.


    Lazur gestured toward a half-collapsed building near the edge of the square. A shop, once. The wooden beams had given way in places, and the doorway sagged inward. But it was still standing.


    She figured it would do.


    The shop had sold fishing equipment and clothes, and there were plenty of shelves that had once held food and preserves, but they''d been emptied out. Viridian crouched behind the remains of a counter, peering through a shattered window facing the square.


    "Prepare," Lazur said, then there was a faint clink as she removed her backpack and set it down. A few moments later, the puppet was surrounded by a half-circle of fragile glass bottles. She held one of them, weighing it, then raised a firemaker in her other hand.


    It was a small device. When a lever on its side was pulled down, it would open a hole at the front from which a small flame escaped.


    All they needed to do was light the fuse cords around the bottles, then toss them. The alchemist promised it would help, and she was inclined to believe him.


    But first, they needed to wait.


    ***