To all of my worldborn children,
When creating new gear-based combatants, you must follow these rules in all cases of overseeing combat:
* Your creations must be able to stand or exist without the constant assistance of magic. This includes creations that are tall enough that reinforcement magic is needed to keep it from toppling
* Your creations may not differ from the natural life of the world where you are stationed by a large margin. Combination of multiple fauna or flora is allowed, but no more than five different creatures may be combined in terms of design
* You may not create a combatant that will overtake the soul of an enemy. This rule is doubly important when guarding a Hive. Take note, E-X22, E-X53
With these rules in place, I hope we do not have any other incidents.
Ensure that the 87% does not come to pass, En’gem’ia
*=====*
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The Forgeheart beat with the clockwork regularity befitting the work of the Mother of the Clock. Heat radiated off into the open air and the blue sky like the heart of a volcano. Around her scurried the small, beetle-like workers of the Hive, who oiled every gear and pruned every stray strand of metal from the walls.
E-X52 sighed as she looked around the massive, open-topped dome where the Forgeheart sat. Arrays of mana capacitors and steam-to-mana converters were lined up along the walls and throughout the massive structure, groups of basic soldier models making patrol routes between them.
X52 had a chip on her shoulder about her current mission. It was overwhelmingly, unequivocally boring. She had never fathomed the idea that a world used to dealing with Mother’s forces would take nearly a month to begin their assault. Sure, there was the small group of… whatever they were harrying any attempts at sending raiding parties, but most were too small to be of any worth in the first place and the only important one, sent north, was barely bothered.
She looked out past the balcony, a special addition included to the Forgeheart due to her status as one of Mother’s direct creations, and took in the vast expanse of copper metal. She leaned against the railing and watched as her Hive continued to grow and expand. Legions of small workers scuttled. Legions of scouts sat idle. Legions of soldiers patrolled. Legions of crashers carried. Snipers leapt from obelisk to obelisk, surveying the slowly shrinking expanse of land between the Forgeheart and the mountains.
The only thing that made all of it so boring was that X52 was forbidden from creating her own clockwork creations. She was not even allowed to make any bloodforged, which irked her severely. According to Mother, she was there to ensure that the proxy war continued as it always had. There was some sort of dimensional activity as of late, which directly correlated with an increase in the other side’s power approximately 98.3825% of the time.
So, she was stuck there, away from her siblings and her home in Valkin. She turned to the Forgeheart, the massive furnace in the center of the room, “Forgeheart, make me a mirror,” she said with her best princess impression.
The blazing flames swayed violently, “By your orders.” A small vanity grew from the ground in front of her, the metal that made everything growing with a large loss in mana from the capacitors. Of course, it was large to most people, but she was the daughter of a goddess, in her own fortress, which made it a paltry sum. She looked into the rapidly-growing mirror in front of her and let out a wistful sigh; she was still beautiful, even if Mother said she needed a dress to cover her beautiful form.
Blonde hair, copper eyes in the shape of gears, perfectly shaped face, blue skin brought about by minor mana saturation, long, bladed ears, fangs and claws made of adamantite, she was a stylish killing machine. To top it all off, she could still hear the sound of life within her.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The center of her being, the mass of gears and springs and even electric parts that made her who she was, beat like a heart with the same purpose as all of Mother’s other creations.
Of course, she was more advanced than the basic bots around her. Her soul created from the body able to support life was almost infinitely more complex than the souls of her minions. If she was a mountain, they were anthills.
Of course, in her attempt to distract herself, she had reminded herself of why she was trying to distract herself. She. Was. Bored. The worst of it was that she knew how important her job was, so she couldn’t just pretend to work and disobey instructions like she always did for E-X1.
Come to think of it, that was probably why she was always sent to do the boring jobs. She decided not to think about that.
“At least I can comfort myself with the fact that I’m furthering Mother’s goals. I mean, she could have sent E-X73, but whatever. He may be a bit more conventional in his designs, but mine are so much more effective! I can create armies of deadly warriors while all they do is make things meant to die! Why should I care what they think!?”
“Notice,” the Forgeheart said, “Excessive amounts of monologuing detected. Please refrain, madam.”
X52 turned to the Forgeheart, “Are you serious?” she said aloud, “Did they seriously tell you to keep me from monologuing? Who was it? Huh!? Was it X45? She’s always trying to meddle with me! Or was it X1? Did she tell you to stop me from sharing my ideas with the world?”
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The Forgeheart sighed. It sighed. A chill went down X52’s spine. Forgehearts were not supposed to sigh. Nor were they supposed to feel any emotion. She glared at the construct until it spoke again, “Please do not look at me with that glare, madam. Why is it wrong for me to feel emotion when infiltrators can feel pain? Why can thinktanks feel when I may not?” X52 glared harder, winding mana into unknowable shapes with multidimensional spells and raising her hand in a threatening manner, “Is that necessary?” it asked.
“Well, you are about a thousand times smarter than you were designed to be, so that’s one. Then, you show emotion, which I didn’t even know Mother could add to you, so that’s two. Now, you’re acting philosophical. That’s three,” she listed off, “Give me one good reason not to blow you to bits right here and now.”
The Forgeheart sighed once more, much to X52’s annoyance, and a box formed at her feet. One of the few things that Mother had hard-wired into the Forgehearts, for lack of a better term, was the inability to defend itself through conventional means. Add to that the fact that no Forgeheart had the capability to cast spells and they were entirely harmless if in the same room as it.
X52 determined the box to be safe with a quick dozen scans and plucked it from the metal vine it grew from, said vine melting back into the ground. Another scan emanated from her eyes and she finally opened it, only to hear the familiar sound of a heart beating.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Inside was a letter, along with something that made her pause. It was a heart. It was not human. Nor elf, beastman, orc, or any other creature. It was the heart of an E-X. She turned her attention to the note. It was penned by her mother; there was no other way for pure divine power to radiate off of it and be so familiar. Luckily, it was something only available to her divinity sensor, so there was no reaction and would be no reaction from anyone else.
To my child E-X52,
As you can see, your sibling has lost her body. During E-X41’s mission to the realm of stone, she was slain in an honorable duel with a local. As you can guess, I have decided you to be the most suitable for the task of rebuilding your sibling. Of course, after your embarrassing incident, I have restricted your rights to Clockwork creation. The conditions are as follows:
* You are not to create something that requires magic to simply exist. This includes large constructs or tiny ones.
* You may not make any Clockwork that violates the rules I have set out for you and your siblings. I thought I would not need to reiterate this, but you have proven to be problematic before.
* You cannot put your sister’s heart into the body of one of your monstrous Clockworks. Simply ensure that the Forgeheart completes the body of your sibling with proper efficiency.
I have also, as you have likely noticed, given you an experimental Forgeheart for the purpose of defending your Hive. He is a new model I created to ensure tasks such as these are completed. He has all of the functions of a Hive Forgeheart and a Fortress Forgeheart, but many of them have been locked. Only when there is a danger of extermination will the protocols be unlocked.
Finally, do not try to conquer the world again. The last time you did that, I had to integrate that world into our chain of production and it was distracting. Refrain yourself.
Ensure that the 87% does not come to pass, En’gem’ia
“Why the hell does she want me to remake her body in an active warzone?” X52 immediately asked.
The Forgeheart blew hot air through his boiler door, reminding X52 to ask about Forgeheart body language, “I do not know. The Mistress’ decisions are not for us to contemplate.”
“But they are for us to follow,” she replied with humorless laughter.
“Precisely,” the Forgeheart replied without sarcasm. X52 pouted a bit and turned to sit on the vanity’s surface, “As you have read, I am an advanced model designed to assist in the capture and fortification of territory. Though most of my Hive and Fortress protocols have been disabled, I am more than capable of defending this location from interlopers.”
X52 eyed the Forgeheart suspiciously. He worked well when brushing off any of her statements. Almost too well. She continued eyeing the Forgeheart as she stood tall, “Fine, if Mother commands, I follow. Now then, tell me this: How powerful is your soul?” she asked.
The power of the soul was one of the most consistent and objective ways of determining power, though it could manifest in different ways for different souls. Some, like the gods, expressed their soul power by splitting themselves into hundreds of minds all fused into a gestalt. On top of that, the gods also expressed their power by being able to comprehend and wield the power of their domains with more force.
People like X52, however, expressed their soul power differently. She expressed her power through the speeding up of her mind beyond what her mortal shell could handle normally. Of course, she was also more capable in most other things compared to other mortals, like spellcasting, comprehension, and the like, but her best field was thought processing speed, which was fast for a mortal.
And mortal was the correct word for it. If any of Mother’s rivals were points of comparison, then she would be like an archlich or an elder dragon. Of course they were powerful and revered beings —especially dragons— but they were all still mortal. Some creatures in the Rift, like that one soul-eating thing her mother had introduced her to once, could simply decide to exist if they died. There was one, big, horde of a sentience-eating exception to the rule, but X52 realized that she had gotten off track and was stalling the conversation.
Seeing her focus, the Forgeheart began speaking, “I am mortal, madam. But I am nearly as powerful as a Bloodforged in terms of soul power. I am able to produce a great amount of sentient energy to act as a defense mechanism. Are there any other questions?”
X52 nodded, “How far are you in remaking X41’s body?” she asked. It would be nice to have some company again, but she would rather know when she would be remade to actually enjoy the solitude for a change.
“E-X41’s body is 52.35% complete as of this moment. The Mistress of the Clock asked me to begin production before we arrived, therefore we are ahead of schedule.” X52 nodded, patting her dress down for a moment before walking back out to the balcony, “I will inform you of any new activity, madam.”
“Fine, you do that,” she said as the Forgeheart went silent. She sighed and pulled a book out from her storage ring; with so many restrictions, including the ‘naturally unnatural’ rules Mother instated, there would be little reason to make new Clockworks. Instead, X52 would read and enjoy herself, and listen to the constant beat of her mother and herself.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.