"Hold its mouth open, if you would," Mina said, reaching down and packing snow into a lump. It began to drip immediately when she lifted it.

Jungrathol grunted with the effort, his two massive right arms bulging.

Mina took a couple steps forward, tossed the snow into the machine's mouth, then retreated.

"You will need more snow if you seek to freeze its insides," Jungrathol said. His hands blurred, and the machine's head was again smashed to the ground.

I'd thought to test Ir'alith's conjecture regarding water, but I feel foolish doing so in this manner. "Is it still attempting to move?"

"Yes." Jungrathol said with certainty despite the machine not seeming to move.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes." He released his hold on its head for an instant, and its jaws opened, turning back on him. It was again smashed against the ground.

So quick! "I do believe you're correct in saying I'd need more snow."

"I know about snow," Jungrathol said with some amount of pride in his voice.

"Oh?"

"There is a small mountain in the Southern Forest," he said. "When Jungrath'an was young, I challenged him to climb it."

"Who is Jungrath'an?" Perhaps we could freeze its armor plating away? There are metals which become brittle when chilled.

"My son. He has lived for twelve years now."

Mina frowned as she started to calculate. "And he was how old when you challenged him to climb a mountain?"

"Eight. I did not help him," Jungrathol said, grinning widely. "He reached the top by his own strength, just as I did. We rode blocks of wood down the steepest side after. Then we battled in the snow at the bottom. I did not fight seriously."

Mina giggled as she imagined the scene of Jungrathol play-fighting with a smaller Jungrathol in snow.

"I have brought him," Ir'alith's voice echoed over.

There was a tremendous gust of wind, and a blue dragon crashed into the ground a short distance away, scattering snow forward.

"Fuckin' careful, you're gonna spill my drink!" shouted an angry voice.

"Be grateful I permitted you to—"

"Grateful?" Valgud called as he jumped down over the front of her wing, wearing a warm-looking coat and bearing a large tankard in one hand. "Be grateful I agreed to fuck off from drinking with the other foremen and forgemistresses to—The fuck's that?!" He raced over to the machine, taking a long pull from his tankard in the process while somehow managing to not spill any of his drink. "Mmm, hey, Jungrathol, brought you a keg," he said absently, already rapping on the thing's metal coat with his free hand.

Mina watched as a large wooden barrel floated up off Ir'alith's back to touch down next to him.

"I thank you, Valgud Flintbrow," Jungrathol said, inclining his head.

"You did not offer me a—"

"No, I fuckin' didn't offer you a drink!" Valgud shouted, turning to face Ir'alith and taking another gulp while maintaining a scowl. "You don't know what you've done, do you? Half the dwarves in the city are walkin' around with their fuckin' ale hats now after seeing your stupid magic trick last night. More than a dozen shops—all with their own branding—selling Ale Protectors and Alemets! Had to shut down any number of…" he paused his grumbling to drink again, then glared at her, stumbling slightly in place. "Should be more like Jungrathol here. He knows a thing'er two about drinkin', that's a fact. Doesn't need a fuckin' ale hat to—" He cut himself off, drinking the entirety of his tankard before tossing it into the snow.

"Valgud, are you drunk?" Mina asked. She raised her hands to cover her mouth and began to giggle. He's always been so serious when I've seen him, even last night. It seems he's quite a bit more belligerent today.

"Fuckin' right I am," Valgud said, seeming to see her for the first time. He whirled back to Ir'alith and pointed at her in an accusing manner. "Better not do any of your magic shit and sober me up, either. This's my thinkin' brew." He wobbled slightly. "Had it made 'specially."

Jungrathol roared with laughter. "A brew for thinking? Is this what you brought me?" He looked to Ir'alith then to Mina. "Soon I will be clever too!" he declared.

Mina doubled over laughing.

"Fuckin' right you will," Valgud said. "What sorta shit's this thing made of anyway?" he asked, kicking the metal back of the machine. "Never seen…" He raised his arm towards his mouth as though he still held his tankard, then looked down at his empty hand before once again turning on Ir'alith. "Hey! What'd you do with my fuckin' drink? What kind of protector are you? Can't even protect a single ale?"

"Valgud," Mina wheezed between laughs. She struggled to gesture to his discarded tankard. "You've already finished your drink, don't you remember?"

He turned to regard her with suspicion, following her finger. "Nah, that's not mine," he said, waving it off. "I'd recognize it." He turned back to Ir'alith. "Gimme a drink."

"I do not think—"

"No, you obviously don't, or you'd know how important it is that I, a dwarf in full control of all his mental capabilities, have a drink in my hand right now," he shouted. He turned back around, the process requiring him to walk in a short half circle to avoid falling over, and returned his attention to the machine.

"Please," Mina gasped, "I've lost my breath."

"Protector, she is pained by her own smell," Jungrathol said. "She holds her nose from the pain. Like this." He reached up to clasp two fingers at the top of his nose.

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"Jungrathol, my friend, I'm gonna need you to flip 'er around so I can i…ins…" Valgud snapped his fingers a few times. "Where's my thinkin' ale…" A tankard floated over to him, and he snatched it out of the air to take a long drink. "Nice protectin'!" he called over his shoulder in an ironic tone. "Now then…" He squinted and took another sip. "Time to start inspectin'."

Jungrathol grunted, then tossed the machine into the air and caught it again, wrestling it to the ground with its belly exposed.

"Some good thinkin' drinkin'," Valgud said, raising his tankard.

"Oh my," Mina said. She wiped at her eyes and walked forward in time to be leaned against. "Um, Valgud, I do believe you've lost your balance."

"Don't need it for thinkin' or inspectin'," he said. A moment later he started and looked up at her, running a hand through his beard. "Mina? When'd you get here, girl? Great timing, have you seen this fuckin' thing?" He kicked at one of the furiously pumping metal legs, nearly falling over since he'd lost his point of balance in the process, then started hopping on the other foot. "Fuck! Why's it so fuckin' hard!"

"Yes, from my own examination, it seems to be some sort of incredibly dense metal coating, and the inside is…" She watched the dwarf down the rest of his tankard and toss it over his shoulder to land near the first.

"Yeah, this is some deep shit," he said, wiping his mustache and again holding his right hand as though he was grasping the handle of a tankard of ale while he gestured. "You come across metals and stones you've never seen in your life if you mine deep enough. Real beard-twisters when you start tryin' to figure out what to do with 'em."

Jungrathol adjusted his grip and leaned to his left to free his upper-left hand, which he used to pull over the keg. "I will honor this brew until it is gone," he said. "Then I will honor my memory of it."

"Thuzzy says she's working on a proper brew for you next time you come by," Valgud said.

Jungrathol managed to tear the top off, splintering the edges of the keg slightly in the process. He raised it off the ground. "Cheers," he said in a very serious manner.

"Ch—The fuck happened to my drink!" Valgud shouted, staring down at his empty hand.

Mina clasped the bridge of her nose. I can't help but feel I've made an error in requesting his presence on this occasion.

"Valgud, you are ill," Ir'alith said. "Allow me to heal you."

Valgud stumbled over and stood in front of Mina, putting her between him and Ir'alith. "Never!" he called, peeking around her. "You already healed me out of Thuzzy's masterwork last night, not gonna let you waste any more of our hard work!"

Mina sighed.

"Yeah, reminds me of my mum before I could grow my beard," he grumbled.

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"Valgud, you've fallen over again."

"Haven't. This is my thinkin' spot. Got a connection to it now. How's this for an idea: you cast a spell that melts all that deep shit off—"

"They're immune to magic."

"Since when?"

"Since the last several times I've told you this very fact."

"Ah, shit, I'm sorry, Mina. Must be soberin' up. Gotta get another thinkin' ale going…"

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"Valgud, I believe it must be made to move by controlled lightning."

"Talked about that'lready."

"What? No, we've not."

"Have too. You said th'same words. Started talkin' 'bout how it was gettin' th'lightnin', and we were throwin' ideas around like how it was convertin' air t'lightnin', or maybe it was sun t'lightnin', or maybe runnin' off some lightnin' storage, or—"

"I… I was just about to suggest some of those concepts—"

"Fuck me sideways-n a vat'o molten slag. Went back in time. Need another thinkin' ale to get outta this'n…"

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"Hear me out, Mina. Suppose we… Hold'n, lemme get in my thinkin' spot. Suppose we cast a spell t'freeze all th—"

"They're immune to magic!"

"Since—Hey! Where're you goin' with my thinkin' ale?!"

"Ir'alith how many thinking ales did you allow him to bring?"

"Too many, it seems. I began to suspect that they were not truly for thinking when he consumed the second one, but now that I have tasted it I am certain. That is regular ale. It is the same as I drank last night."

"I got it. You doubted me, but I got it. How's this for an idea: we use a giant lodestone. Machines're metal. Lodestone'll work. Maybe."

"Ah, you've healed him! My thanks."

"No, I have not."

"We drag it around Khag Daruhm quick-like, all the machines get stuck on it, done. 'Cept how we gonna get a lodestone that fuckin' big. Needa… Nah, gotta go bigger. Lodestone big as the whole fuckin' city. Pull 'em all out at once."

"I hesitate to ask, but how would we manage such a feat?"

"Just magic the thing up above the city. I'll do the calculatin' when I get back and switch to my calculatin' brew."

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Mina kicked off her boots and fell face-first onto the armchair on the second floor of her workshop. Ooh, I'd like to sleep for an entire week.

The meeting had achieved some degree of progress, at the least. Her conjecture that the machine's magic-dampening capabilities must have limits was proven accurate to a certain extent, as Ir'alith had conjured a block of ice from the surrounding snow and then smashed it into the thing's torso. Unlike her previous demonstration, on this occasion the contact had been definite, which proved that it was capable of nullifying materials created purely by magic and not materials transformed by magic. It was a significant distinction, though the precise use of that knowledge was not yet apparent.

Temperature had less effect than any of them had hoped. Ir'alith had worked a spell to gradually remove the heat from an area surrounding the machine, but it'd seemed entirely unaffected even when Jungrathol began to grunt from the pain of the frigid air.

Valgud's thinking ales seemed to have more of an effect on his capacity for stumbling across odd ideas—and stumbling in general. His theories regarding lodestones were among the more interesting, though he'd at one point lapsed into mumbling about "lode storms" and "copper coils" when his thoughts turned towards controlled lightning, but the combination of unfamiliar concepts and his slurring had altered his potential brilliance into useless gibbering; she'd decided she would still ponder the terms once her mind had returned to a more wakeful state.

Jungrathol had been stoic for most of the duration, continuing to suppress the machine with his indefatigable strength and even turn it about when asked. He took a few short breaks, during which time Ir'alith used her non-magical might to control it. The effort left her noticeably more tired each time, but Mina had refrained from asking how they thought to continue when it became apparent that they would need to persist with their endeavor for at least another day. Valgud had agreed to lend his questionable assistance in the future, but he had his own responsibilities during the daytime. Mina…

She sighed, her fingers running over the simple scarf she'd been gifted. Her own gift was completed now after some time spent explaining the project to Ir'alith and showing the precise schematics she'd created, but it hadn't felt in any way satisfying. No, she'd been unable to create any part of it herself—at least not with her available resources—and so it felt too cheap and worthless to even consider gifting to someone she claimed to care for. She still would, naturally, but the prospect left a vile taste in her mouth.

A vile taste for a vile girl.

Mina let out a breath, feeling her stomach churn. Perhaps I shouldn't have fled Charus City. Yes, I may be happier, but what does it matter when I can only make those around me miserable? Carl claimed he was unaffected when I questioned him regarding my folly later on, but it's obvious to me that he's merely concealing his true thoughts on the matter.

I must hurry to rescue his wife and encourage him to return to her. But… I'm unable to even match Jungrathol's level of usefulness in our gatherings. Ir'alith provides the magical might, Jungrathol the brawn, Valgud is far more brilliant than I even when too inebriated to remain standing, but I… I feel lost. There's naught for me to contribute.

She curled up, pressing both the scarf and hair tie to her chest. What purpose is there for me in the world outside of Charus City?