17
“This will be troublesome,” Milo muttered as he looked down at the fully-charged core in his fingers.
Spragg was right.
He had to be more careful. If he started dropping fully-charged cores into the market, it wouldn’t take long for the Mage Court to know there was something strange happening.
They’d investigate.
How long before they found him?
Not long.
Should he sell this one? Or leave it be?
Two thousand gold, Spragg had said. As a minimum. That much gold would let him buy whatever he needed that the Workshop couldn’t supply. Additional cores. Gear for himself.
He needed new clothes.
The school robes he’d been assigned would be useless in dungeons. He needed to get something better. Maybe even some light armor. Sure, the Academy had some they would assign to students who couldn’t afford their own, but it wasn’t said to be anything special.
If he really cared about keeping his organs on the inside, he’d need to get something he could trust.
And that meant gold.
He turned this idea over and over in his head.
Getting more and more anxious by the minute, he paused and looked around. Why was he nervous? He was in a dwarven workshop. What miracles and marvels would he make here in the future?
Surely the first proper golem he was about to build would be more than a little helpful? Fed had assured him it would be suitable for combat. Wouldn’t that mean she could be a bodyguard?
And if he built more spider golems, wouldn’t they act as eyes and ears?
What was he worried about?
What he needed to do was treat everything like a clock. One gear here. One gear there. Eventually, he’d have a working construct which would tick along smoothly.
The selling of the core was just a gear, he told himself.
A shiny bright golden gear, sure. But still just a gear.
With a sigh, he resolved to take it the next morning to Spragg and let the shopkeeper sell it for him. He wasn’t sure how much he trusted the man, but something in his gut told him it would be okay.
And if it wasn’t?
Well.
The golem he was building was for combat, right?
With a grim smile, Milo set the core down and picked up a screwdriver. Tapping the sharp tip against his chin, he shuffled up next to the slab and scooped up the blueprints.
Peered at the drawings, muttering softly to himself.
Then started work on the golem’s arm. There was a lot going on with the arm. Some really hefty springs were built in which seemed mostly for shock absorption, he suspected. Which meant this thing was built to take some heavy blows without getting damaged.
It was difficult to not feel awed as he worked on it.
That dwarves had been able to create such constructs like this was shocking. He’d expected they would all be like the golems which wandered the city. Bulky simple-looking things which walked awkwardly and slowly.
To think they also made golems which might be humanoid and perhaps pass as human, was unimaginable to him before finding the Workshop.
Clearly, this was a combat model, so the dwarves must have used them to do dangerous jobs. That seemed sensible and intelligent.
But why make them so realistic?
Milo screwed down sheets of dwarven bronze here and there to protect important components, and spent the evening losing himself in the slow methodical task of assembly.
His mind became a calm lake.
Dark and murky.
But glittering on the surface as he checked and rechecked his work.
This had been the difference between himself and the other apprentices. The reason why Master Sunderland had thought so highly of him.
His skills when he first started as a clocker hadn’t been special.
But his concentration was beyond what many others could achieve. Some apprentices squirmed often in their seats as they worked with intricate parts so small that it took a supreme level of hand-eye coordination to work with.
Yet, Milo didn’t pause. Even when he made mistakes.
He simply kept going. Pushing through with calm determination.
The other apprentices took more breaks than he did. In fact, he took so few that, in the beginning, even Master Sunderland had scolded him and told him to stop for a few moments or his eyes would be damaged.
Milo tried to listen.
But he kept losing himself in the work.
Slowly, his precision improved. His understanding of blueprints increased. And eventually Master Sunderland had called him into his office and admitted he had nothing more to teach.
“I can only give you experience now, Milo,” he’d said. “And exposure. Perhaps in a few years, you can open your own shop.”
“I’d like that,” Milo had said. Though, in truth, at the time he said it he wasn’t entirely convinced he wanted that responsibility.
It was only when he thought about specializing in dwarven clocks and other small devices still intact, that he began to dream of his future with some enthusiasm.
What would the old clocker think if he could see his apprentice now?
Milo wondered if he would be proud.
Or afraid.
Because there was no doubt that what Milo was doing was something dangerous. He was tinkering not just with the mysteries of dwarven technology, but also the patience of the Mage Court who would no doubt be unforgiving if they found out what he was doing.
Milo wasn’t too worried about the dangers, though.
While the idea of a buzzsaw dropping from the ceiling and carving his body to pieces was something that made him nervous, he understood blueprints well enough to know he wasn’t building anything which could harm him.
Although, he had to admit he didn’t know what it would be like when he turned it on.
Would it be like Click? Unable to communicate except with small beeps and rustling of its gears?
He doubted that. The throat and mouth of the golem was too realistic for it to not be able to speak.
The tongue on its own had been a nightmare which left him dizzy as he worked with smaller and smaller pieces. Some looked no bigger than grains of sand.
So, he felt only anticipation as he thought about what the first words of the golem would be.
That left only the fear of discovery.
The Mage Court.
He shuddered at the thought. What he planned to do with the golem was daring. He hoped to use it as a partner to enter dungeons with. But that would mean fooling the mages into thinking she was one of them.
Was that possible?
He wasn’t entirely sure how their measuring devices really worked, but he had hopes that whatever power was in the golem’s core would somehow fool their devices. But one thing he couldn’t do was prove they were mages by having them cast any magic.
In the beginning, this wouldn’t matter. Skipping classes wasn’t unusual.
And some classes never required magic to be cast in them. It would be too dangerous for the students if they used magic on each other. That’s what dungeons were for.
So, he might get away with it for a while.
But eventually he might have to perform a task. For the Academy or the Mage Court. Either way, there’d be witnesses.
He’d need to come up with a way to make it look like the golems were using magic.
“Hmph,” he grunted. Then pushed that thought out as he started adding more wiring to the hand.
None of this mattered right now.
He wasn’t even sure the golem would look realistic enough to fool anyone. Or even if it acted in a way that could blend in.
What if it was more like the ancient dwarves? What even were they like?
He imagined they must have been incredibly intelligent. And, judging by the workshop and the Keep itself, highly organized and practical. So, what if the golem acted more like a soldier? And had a limited understanding of how to behave like a human?
Then he’d be in trouble.
He’d spend more time hiding the golem from close inspection than anything else.
It would be draining and painful.
And it wouldn’t be long before it was unmasked as something not human.
Like a clock, he told himself. Think of it like a clock.
Gear by gear.
First, find out if the golem was capable of physically passing as human.
Second, see if it can act like one with enough realism to at least delay discovery.
Until then, there was no need to worry. No need to stress.
Just build.
Build.
He paused after a few hours and stretched. Noticed Click was standing quietly nearby.
“Hello,” he called to the little spider golem.
Who lifted its front arms and gave a cute little wave back at him before chittering and purring its gears.
He wished he could understand the little construct. It sounded enthused about something.
Crouching down beside it, he gave it a little pat on the top and smiled.
“What have you got for me?”