103
For the next two days, Milo concentrated solely on his work. He was pushing himself to finish the golem body for Fed.
In his breaks, he worked on rifle mods which some of the other students had ordered through Tania. After the last dungeon, they were looking for more options to help defend themselves while recovering their mana.
Mila said Mistress Vizzingbelle’s classes were a lot more popular now.
He was happy for the gold.
He still needed a lot of materials to keep the manufacturing stations working. Some still needed ingredients he hadn’t managed to source, and he’d only managed to just pull enough together to make the golemskin for Fed.
There were so many blueprints in the library, and the archives held more. He wanted to set aside the mods and golems for now and see what else the dwarves offered.
He knew they’d made all kinds of things.
Including clocks.
He really wanted to make a clock.
That thought made him wonder what he was going to do with the Workshop. And the rest of the fortress given he had access to it. With everything the pads let him do, he could pretty much hide inside the fortress forever, he thought.
No one would know he was there unless they came looking.
And why would they? If he disappeared, wouldn’t they assume he was killed in a trap?
It was a tempting thought.
He couldn’t see many reasons not to do it.
Except that it would be difficult for him to walk through the city anymore. He wouldn’t be able to take Selma for ice cream. Or go drinking with them all.
It wasn’t a life he wanted to live.
He didn’t mind privacy, but that was a bit too much. It’d make him feel like a prisoner.
The only thing he could think to do was resolve the three problems he had.
One, the Paddstones. They were the obvious. He needed a solution that would make them look the other way or put them into a position where he could kill them.
All of them?
The ones who counted, at least. He didn’t want to run around killing children or anything. He’d prefer to kill no one.
But they weren’t making it easy.
Second, the Farringhams. He had to make them lose interest.
Convince Vesna he had nothing to do with the core. Or make it so they understood he wasn’t going to compete with their business.
Whatever it took to get them to go away.
Or could he make a deal? They were a family of merchants, not warriors. Maybe a deal was on the table.
But what kind of deal?
Third, the Mage Court itself.
Eventually, they’d want to drag him out of the Academy and into their world. He’d become part of their apparatus. After a few years, he might be able to disentangle himself a little, but he’d have to become a registered mercenary or something.
Which meant always being under their thumb.
He didn’t want that. He wanted them to have absolutely no interest in him at all. Unfortunately, Tania had registered herself as a rank 9, and that was exceptional enough that they’d be reluctant to let her out on her own so soon.
She, at least, would be used or forced to register as a mercenary.
Nothing good there.
He had to protect her. Protect all of his golems. And the Workshop.
And himself.
Taking a seat on his stool, he heaved a big sigh and set a slim chisel and flat screwdriver down. He’d been using them to help fit the golemskin which was now healing slowly on the golem’s body.
Upload in progress, the Prime’s voice rumbled from above.
“How long will it take?”
Estimated time to completion: Ten minutes.
“Alright,” he said, wiping his forehead. He felt hot. His eyes felt dry, too. Glancing at one of the empty benches, he considered crawling on top and falling asleep.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Milo!” Mila squealed, darting into the room ahead of Tania and Selma. She flung herself into his arms and covered his cheek in kisses.
The avalanche of enthusiasm left him reeling. His gaze fell on Tania, who was carrying a heavy box. She dumped it on one of the benches and shook her head at Mila.
“Ya lost your marbles, ya crazy moll.” Her words sounded harsh, but there was genuine affection in them.
Selma placed another heavy box by the first and grinned at him.
He gave her a wave, trying to figure out what was different.
Selma waved back. “Hi, Milo!”
He blinked, looking her up and down.
She was wearing a short dress with pink flowers on white. He’d seen both the style and pattern before on some of the women in the city. It was one of the latest trends.
But Selma always wore her mesh bikini.
“You’re wearing a dress,” he said.
Tania nudged Selma’s ribs. “Observant, ain’t he?”
“Do you like it?” Selma did a quick spin which lifted the soft cotton to show him everything underneath.
It was an odd moment, because he’d grown so used to her wearing a flimsy little mail bikini and leather thong, that he had kind of stopped thinking lewd things when seeing her bare skin.
But, somehow, with the dress, it looked more…
Enticing?
He swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he nodded. “It looks really nice.”
“I told ya,” Tania said. “Look at him. His eyes ain’t all inside his noggin now.”
“We all got dresses,” Mila said, taking a step back to let Selma in.
Selma hugged him and let him peck her cheek. “It feels cute.”
“And looks cute,” Tania said, leaning in and holding out her cheek, too.
He kissed her and nodded. “It does.” He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m just really tired.”
“We thought ya would be,” she said. “Mila will drag ya upstairs soon. We figured you’d want to see Fed get up first, though. We’ll help her get ready while you sleep.”
“Ready?” Then he understood. “Ah. The customizing. Right.”
“That’s right,” Tania said, looking around for the Workshop Pad.
“Over there,” he said, pointing to a messy bench. Then he frowned. “I think.”
“I tell ya, Milo, it’s a good thing we’re here or you’d lose everything,” she said, digging through the mess until she found the pad.
Selma took his hand and held it in front of her. “Do I really look cute?”
“You do,” he said. Then he impulsively reached up and booped her nose. “I see you, Selma Standpoint.”
She giggled and kissed the back of his hand before heading back to the boxes and starting to unpack.
Clothes.
Lots of clothes.
He yawned again. “Is that all for Fed?”
“We didn’t know what she’d like,” Mila said. “So, we got a few different styles.”
“Right. Good idea.”
Tania gave him a close look, then came over and put her arms around him. “You’re done, ain’t ya?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“How long until she wakes up?”
“Prime?”
Six minutes, Milo. Have you ever tried wearing a watch?
“A watch?”
I’ll send you a blueprint. You’ll love it.
“Sure.”
It’s a clock you can wear on your arm.
“What?” That made him lift his head. A clock on his arm?
What? Don’t you like making clocks, Milo?
“You know I do,” he grumbled. “But they’d be too big, wouldn’t they?”
Five minutes and counting down.
“I wonder what she’ll be like,” Mila asked, staring at the body on the slab. “Do you think she’ll like me, too?”
“Everyone likes ya, ya ditz.”
“I’m not a ditz!”
“Stop acting like one then,” Tania said sweetly.
“Yeah,” Selma put in with a goofy looking grin. “Ya ditz.”
Mila stuck her tongue out at her.
Tania stroked Milo’s hair with one hand and held him upright with the other. “You did real good,” she said. “I got a few more rifle orders, but I told them you weren’t gonna be able to do them for a week.”
“Thanks.”
“Ain’t no trouble. There’s another two weeks before the next dungeon.”
“How’s everything else?”
“It’s alright. The Headmaster had another meeting with Jellickson. You oughtta go see him, Milo. He’s chomping at the bit. Wants to tear the whole Academy down to find ya.”
“Right.”
“And Vesna sent a message. She wants to see ya, too.”
“Ugh.” He rolled his eyes and earned a pat on the head.
“I won’t tell ya what little Padrick Paddstone’s goons have been up to, then.”
“Sleep first,” he said. “I regret even asking.”
“One good thing, though,” Selma said. “Spragg says he’ll have a new shipment in tomorrow. So, we’ll get more materials. Some of it’s the leather we need.”
“Oh?” He smiled at that one. “Finally!”
The golem on the slab twitched with an electrical snap.
Then a low humming filled the air while the body started to rattle its gears. Milo knew it now to be a testing mode. It was checking his connections.
It suddenly stopped moving.
And he grunted, expecting the Prime to announce he’d messed up something.
But it didn’t.
“Is it working?” Selma asked.
Suddenly the golem sat bolt upright, eyes snapping open and staring ahead with a stunned expression on her face. Like she’d just woken from a nightmare.
Her face was fairly generic at the moment. And she was bald.
Milo had draped a towel across her, and it slid off as she sat upright.
“Woah,” she said. Her voice sounded a bit mechanical. That would clean up when she finished the customizing process. “Where am I?”
“In Milo’s Workshop,” Tania told her. “How’re ya feeling?”
“With my bits,” she replied, poking at her stomach. “Hey, they’re soft.”
“That’s golemskin for ya,” Tania said. “We can make it softer if ya want.”
“I don’t think so?” She didn’t look like she knew what she wanted to do. “Isn’t it soft enough? Any softer and my hand would go right through!”
Milo pushed himself off the stool and approached slowly. “Do you feel any twinges? Anywhere hurt?”
She turned to him.
Her eyes looked him up and down.
Then her cheeks flushed and she giggled. “Are you a man?”
“I think so,” he said drily, but his heart wasn’t in it. All he could think about was bed.
“And you’re talking to me?”
“He built ya, ya dusty dame,” Tania said.
“What?” She looked suddenly horrified. “Really?”
“Really,” Mila said, peering up at her. “What’s your name?”
“Fed,” the golem said. “I think. Is that my name? It feels like it should be my name. Or it was my name? Is it still my name? I don’t know.”
“We can help choose another if you want,” Selma offered.
“I don’t know.” She looked at Milo. “What’s my name?”
“Whatever you want it to be,” he said. “Tania, do you want to help her get customized?”
“Eep! Customized?” Fed let out a frightened squeak. “Are you gonna rip off my fingers and turn them into pincers?”
He frowned at her. “Why would we do that?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Are you a bully?”
“I don’t think so,” he said, looking around.
“It’s fine, Milo,” Tania said. “We’ve got this. Mila, take him upstairs, will ya? He’s about to fall over.”
“Yes, Tania!” Then Mila ducked under his arm and held him up. “Come on, Milo. I’ll get you to bed.”
“As for you,” Tania said, grinning at Fed. “How about we give you a makeover?”
“Makeover?” Fed looked down at her fingernails. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Okay!” Grinning, Fed turned on the slab. And promptly fell off onto the floor in a puddle of her own limbs. She looked up at Tania with a panicked expression as she tried to get back to her feet. “Whoops!”