Rick stood before a large metal… thing. It was a maze of tubes connecting to small spheres and boxes, each of them leading somewhere else or into one another. Some tubes looped back into the chamber they emerged from, others would split and head to other parts of the contraption. All in all, the item was as large as he was tall, with jewels embedded into various parts of the machine, alongside levers and valves.
His skin tingled whenever he stepped closer, just being within the same room gave him an eerie foreboding feeling.
“I thought the elemental stone mine went dry.” He commented, idly counting how many of elemental stones on the thing.
“A few can still be found, but it’s not in quantities worth the effort.” Rollo replied, rubbing his hands, face split into an ever-present plastic smile. “We used the enchanted armor from the knights your Lord so graciously loaned us.”
Rick raised a dubious eyebrow, glancing over his shoulder at Yasir. “I did?”
The old merchant coughed, pulling up a piece of paper. “I believe Miss Dia’s words were, ‘Get rid of them, but don’t let them go to waste’.” He stroked his beard, eyes twinkling with insight. “The armors would’ve been useless either way. The knights of this kingdom weave steep protective enchantments; anyone but the knight it was made for would not be able to don it. At least, not without a lengthy process to bind it to a new knight.”
“I guess this is the better alternative.” Rick commented idly, ignoring the slight enthusiasm the plump merchant showed at the indirect praise. Carefully, slowly, he continued to pace around the machine, pulling up the blueprints Rollo had provided as he did. “From what I’m looking at here, this is… some sort of chemical-reaction engine?”
“It is a very heavily modified alchemical crucible.” Rollo proclaimed with all the pride of a father showing off a favored son’s achievement. “I had… I mean, my workshop engineers put together a list of potential aspects that the Lord’s alchemical work requires, and created this.” The man began pointing at various parts of the contraption. “The Lord’s work has, thus far, required merely control over pressure and temperature, thus, this modified device allows for precisely that in over a dozen different chambers at the same time! The energy output and efficiency is well beyond what any of our previous works created!”
Nodding along to the explanation, Rick paused. “Wait, what sort of conditions are required for an alchemist’s work?”
“I’m happy you should ask, my Lord, you see, alchemy requires very precise control over elemental energy present within a reaction’s environment, and-”
Rick raised a hand, the gesture bringing Rollo to a very quick silence. “Let’s not lose track of what’s important here.” He stepped away, suppressing the urge to rub his arms to disperse the tingling. “What about leaks and protection?”
“Not to worry!” Rollo practically bounced off of the floor, hurrying along to a box that’d been discreetly left in a corner of the room. The man snapped his fingers twice, and the maid standing next to the door leaned forward, prying the box open and pulling out a… set of scale-mail? “Come on in!”
The door opened, and another maiden stepped inside. Whoever she was, Rick had to figure she wasn’t in the most comfortable of attires, wearing some kind of leather outfit underneath the scale-mail that covered everywhere but her head. It was tight enough she creaked and tinkled with every step.
“This was also made from the armor pieces, enchanted to dissipate heat and corrosives, with the helmet and mask working as filtering units. The clothes are by no means infallible, but they should buy the maiden enough time to be able to turn off the device and walk out unharmed! Though, of course, such exposure would require the gear to be repaired and maintained.” Rollo’s words came all rushed together, everything sprinting out of his mouth as if he were being paid to break a record. “Our engineers are also working on creating a repertoire of sealants. Soon we should have a catalog of options depending on the properties.”
Rick didn’t quite like how Rollo had been switching up the way he spoke, now calling the maidens working for him as “engineers”. But it wasn’t really as much of an annoyance as knowing that the businessman was the only one he could turn to when it came to requesting this sort of machinery. Rick’s knowledge on the field was entirely on the formula side of things; his experience in the industrial chemistry sector was practically nill.
He would’ve gotten Raphaella involved in this if he could, but the mouse and her horde were dedicating every shred of time and energy into the newest project. But that was another mess Rick was planning to jump into once he’d gotten his factory floor properly in order.
“We’ll run everything through some basic tests. The sulphur’s going to be used to make some new things and I’d like to be sure the acid won’t just eat through it,” Rick said, wondering how any of this ‘enchanted’ stuff would respond to sulphuric acid or any of the derivatives he’d get to make out of it. “I’ll have some samples ready later today.”
Stolen story; please report.
“Certainly, my Lord.” Rollo was grinning from ear to ear.
Working over the details… and the price… it looked like the machine was as expensive and as complicated as it looked. But if even half of what Rollo was promising held up, it could theoretically triple production. Not just in the ways of making more nitrogen-based explosives, but also a lot of “anything else” so long as he had the right ingredients. With easy access to sulphuric acid and ammonia, the list of potential substances he could cook up was growing frighteningly fast.
At this point, the only thing missing would be a more stable and plentiful source of ethanol. Once he had that going, he’d be spending the rest of his days trying to recall and recreate every compound and substance he knew.
But fantasies of spending his days in a lab aside, the reality of the more industrial side of production boiled down to what bets he wanted to hedge.
What components and substances should he focus on creating? Should he expect all-out war, or that he’d be able to tempt others through trade? He definitely wanted to have enough explosives at hand, but the more he stock-piled the easier it became that something went wrong and it all blew up on his face… literally. Putting it all in one place was moronic, but at the same time, he couldn’t spread the militia so thin they couldn’t protect the caches. All it would take would be one Sinco citizen getting some smart ideas and everything could blow up.
“We’ll need to start drafting up more plans on storage and security…” he said, mostly to himself as they walked back out into the open air, scribbling down notes on his personal notebook. Then, with a sigh, he snapped it shut. “Fuck.”
“Change of plans so soon?” Yasir’s eyes twinkled with mischief.
“I’ve barely been back for two days and it already feels like everyone’s knocking at my door with more work for me to tackle.” He grumbled in response. “Besides, I’ve got an important patient I have to keep an eye on… who doesn’t want to be treated as one.”
“Would it happen to be a very young patient?” Yasir offered. “One with stripes?”
All around them the citizens would stop whatever they were doing and greet him. A ‘my Lord’ here and ‘my Liege’ there, with the very same people hurrying off right after. Rick did his best to return the greetings, if only in small gestures as they kept moving along.
“More like the poor soul the striped stalker keeps ambushing.” Rick rolled his eyes as they continued along. “Honestly, I’m not even sure what to make of her. She sticks to Monica like glue most of the time, but avoids everyone else… except Dia.” Rick had half-expected he’d need to talk to the kit at some point, but the few times she was present, she found ways to avoid interacting with anyone.
“I’ve heard.” Yasir shook his head with a heavy sigh. “I’d claim girls will be girls, if this did not feel as something deeper than mere mischief.”
Rick perked up slightly. “I figure it’s some cultural thing, got any thoughts? I’d rather not see this escalate.”
“I believe what we’re seeing might be her own way of grieving.” Yasir stroked his beard, pensively following along as they walked away from the rich area of the city. “She lost a mother, a grandmother, a clan, and a home. Not uncommon for someone living in the wilds; they have their ways and they cope with this loss more frequently than others. But she is still a kit.” Reaching out, he gripped Rick’s shoulder and squeezed it emphatically. “She is not a machine that can be repaired with just a poke here or there… and you should keep in mind that this applies to you as well, my friend.”
Hesitating, he stopped walking, then grimaced. “Yeah…” Running his fingers through his hair, he let out a long sigh, relaxing himself as best he could. “It’s kind of laughable. Before, I wanted to learn how to weaponize the bond, but now that I have…”
“I cannot fathom the true scope of what it feels like to be connected to so many in such a deeply personal way.” Yasir spoke softly. “But as a man that’s been married to a very beautiful, if stubborn, wife, I have first-hand experience of the consequences of keeping the pain tucked away. Just as you’ve insisted on Miss Dia taking time off for her own wellbeing, so should you.”
“I’ve had nothing but time off.” He laughed bitterly. “So much so it’s piled up.”
“Then, as a Lord, I believe it would be in your best interest to delegate more.” He offered. “Wave your hand and turn it into someone else’s problem.”
Rick laughed, fully aware Yasir was mostly joking. Mostly because everything Rick could reasonably delegate had been delegated already. The factory’s daily operations were being handled by a mix of Cog Horde members and maidens from the militia. The war prisoners who’d “given up” on Aubria were being put to work in the farmland. And then there were a thousand smaller things Rick had no real knowledge how to handle, like how Yasir’s official job position was managing the city’s coin.
Really, the only thing left would be trying to delegate the inter-politics of the city and tribe, which…
“You know what? You’re right, once I set a couple things in motion, I should take some proper time off.” Rick commented, finding a slight springiness to his step. “I think I’ll take a nice long stroll out of the city, I’ve heard there’s a lovely cottage some ways off east of here, almost at the forest’s edge.” Of course, that certain cottage would need a ride to get there, no way he’d reach it on foot today, less so after he’d finished his work.
“I’m certain the Lady will be delighted.” Yasir nodded.
----------------------------------------
Kiara was not happy.
She watched the sun set as she stared out the window, the living-room quiet save the crackling of fire from the chimney interspersed with the heavy breathing of her “dinner.” The sweat-drenched foxy maiden currently bound, gagged, and blindfolded on the table wriggled, gasped, and blew air through her nose, wriggling.
“Three days.” Kiara commented out loud and mostly to herself, even as her fingers traced tingling arches through the quivering thighs of her meal. Digging her nail a little, drawing angry red lines, the maiden whimpered and begged through her muffle. “Three days, now, and not even a peep.”
The Nogitsune cried out, body shuddering as she teetered at the edge of a release the Succubus denied her once more.
“He’s so late, one might even assume he forgot to show up at all.”