They spoke in low voices. “So what do you make of that?” Noninja asked.

“I think it’s sweet,” Lorarona chimed. “A little wooden man with unrequited love. I’d really like to know how that story turns out.”

Miles suddenly caught their attention; he put his finger to his lips, then jabbed it down the hallway. Everyone froze.

They heard a pleasant female voice lilting through the air, coming from the office. “Please eat, Tintso. It’ll give you strength.” They exchanged alarmed looks as they stood there in complete silence.

Several seconds passed. “Very well.” They heard faint whirring sounds, as complex gears engaged and disengaged with each other. “Oh, Tintso, you’re so dirty. Let me clean you up.”

They heard footsteps approach; with hushed motions, they skulked down the hallway and took up a position near the wall-painting trap. They watched as Sumi entered a room they hadn’t explored yet; half a minute passed. She emerged carrying a bucket and a washcloth, and returned to the office.

Someone drew a shuddering breath. They looked to see Miles with his head hung low.

“Miles?” Lorarona probed. “Are you OK?”

He looked up at her; tears poured from his eyes. “It’s so heartbreaking,” he gasped. “She doesn’t understand he’s dead.” He closed his eyes and bent his head again.

Sadness washed over Lorarona’s face. “Can you imagine how she’ll react if he makes her sentient?”

Miles sobbed once. “I know what the emotional peak of that story will be.”

Clancy and Noninja exchanged uncertain looks; Lorarona fixed them both with a withering glare.

Miles took a deep breath and lifted his head. “We should finish up and get out of here.”

“So what’s left?” Noninja asked.

Clancy pondered for a moment. “There’s one more door near the entrance.”

Miles pulled a gem from his pocket. “And we have an eye-jewel for the lobby trap. We should see what it does.”

They exchanged affirmative nods and headed in that direction, taking care to step by Rosalbo’s workshop silently.

Taking a position on the side of the dragon’s head, Miles delicately shoved the gem into the eye socket. As he did, they all winced. Some sort of sliding sound, wood against wood, emerged from nearby.

“Did you hear that?” Clancy asked.

Noninja pointed to the dragon head’s wall. “It came from the other side; I’m sure of it.”

Rounding the corner, they opened a door and realized they were in the mechanical snake’s workshop. It continued to lay inert on the counter.

“There!” Clancy gaped, pointing to a newly-opened cabinet. He knelt down and looked inside for a moment; when he stood again, he was beaming. “Jackpot!” he revealed. “Many high-quality machine parts, made of various exotic metals. I think it’s the biggest haul we’ve found here!”

Lorarona knelt down and opened the purse of holding; Clancy retrieved the treasure and stowed it away.

Noninja looked around uncomfortably. “We need to cover our tracks. Clancy, can you close the cabinet door?”

Clancy groped under the cabinet for several seconds. “I can’t even find the door! It’s recessed into the cabinet wall!”

“It should close if we remove the eye-jewel, right?” Miles pointed out. “And we may as well grab both! More shiny rocks for us!”

They returned to the lobby and looked around. “We should probably move the mail out of the way,” Clancy observed. “Don’t want to catch it on fire.”

“Ugh,” Miles groused. “I’m not moving all that.”

“Mage hand?” Lorarona piped up.

“Mage hand!” Clancy agreed.

They both twiddled their fingers; a moment later, the individual letters flew across the room, stacking themselves in a neat pile in the corner just past the door to the forge. In less than a minute, the mess was completely cleaned up.

“See?” Miles cheered. “I told you I wasn’t moving all that!” Clancy and Lorarona exchanged nonplussed sighs.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“OK, who’s ready for some fire?” Noninja exulted.

Miles shied away. “If you don’t mind…I’ve had enough fire for one day.”

Noninja chuckled. “You’re like peeling an onion, you know that?”

“Why?” Lorarona asked. “Because he’s just layers upon layers?”

“No,” Noninja clarified. “Because his stench makes my eyes water.”

Laughter broke out, and then was suddenly silenced; they gazed at Miles uncertainly. He leaned up against the wall, crossed his arms, and glared back. “Aw, the devil with all of you.”

“Oh, come on,” Noninja soothed. “Just having some fun. I didn’t mean it.” He moved to one side of the dragon’s head. “Lorarona? Want to get the other side?” She smiled and took up a position across from him.

They took hold of the eye-jewels. “OK,” Noninja counted down. “One…two…three!”

They yanked the jewels from the eye-sockets. Immediately, a cone of flame burst forth from the dragon’s mouth, sterilizing the lobby. Almost as soon as it had started, it was over.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Noninja offered, brushing himself off. “Hardly even felt it.”

“Me either,” Lorarona agreed. “I wonder why? It doesn’t seem to make sense.”

“Clancy?” Noninja asked. “Got any insight?”

There was no answer. “Clancy?” Lorarona called out. “Where are you?”

“Checking the cabinet,” Clancy answered as he returned from the workshop. “The door’s closed.” He smiled. “And to answer your question, ‘burning hands’ is a very simple spell. The fire literally travels in a cone-shaped region, and doesn’t affect anything outside of it. So chalk up its odd properties to low-level magic.”

Noninja laughed. “Works for me. I’m just glad I still have eyebrows.”

“Well, Miles?” Clancy asked. “Ready for the last room?”

Miles pulled himself from the wall. “Sure,” he mumbled. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

They exchanged weary looks as they followed Miles to the door.

Noninja opened it to reveal a storage room. Several large boxes were stacked against the back wall, with a few random pieces of metal on top of them. A minute or so of searching revealed the boxes contained nothing but rocks.

“Why would someone hoard rocks?” Miles blubbered.

“Raw ore,” Clancy explained. “For the forge.”

“And the metal?” Miles motioned toward the debris.

Clancy pondered a moment. “To be recycled in the forge?”

Miles shrugged. “Makes as much sense as anything.”

“Hey, check this out!” Lorarona trilled; they gathered around to look. “What do you suppose it is?”

They perused the odd device; Clancy examined it closely. It sat on top of a storage box; made of metal and glass, it had a black box attached to a slot, and a multi-position knob sticking out out the side, topped with a binocular-like appendage. Two detached fuzzy boxes were connected to it, using rubbery strings with metallic ends.

“I don’t know,” Clancy shared, “but this knob has a notch on one side, and the circle around it has a mark. My first guess is to turn the knob so the notch and the mark line up.”

“Don’t!” Miles cried. “It could be a bomb!”

They all glared at him. “No one would go through this much trouble simply to make a bomb,” Noninja countered.

No one said anything; Clancy carefully turned the knob. The machine reluctantly chugged to life; some weird squawking noises emerged from the fuzzy boxes, and a series of colorful, dissonant lights emerged from the binocular-like appendage. Suddenly, there was a three-dimensional illusionary image before then, and the sound became coherent!

The projected image was of the inside of an office; one person cowered behind the desk, crying unconvincingly, as a zombie shuffled up to him, arms outstretched. Some ominous music, played by brass-wind and stringed instruments, played in the background. The zombie spoke in a gravely, sepulchral voice: “You can’t eat the apple and throw the core away – a man is not a piece of fruit!” The sound and images suddenly vanished, and the machine slowed to a stop and became silent.

They exchanged uncomfortable glances. “Ew,” Lorarona loathed. “That wasn’t very good.”

“I told you it was a bomb,” Miles piped up, chuckling.

“Should we take it with us?” Noninja asked.

“I don’t want it,” Clancy retorted. “Suddenly, I’ve lost interest.”

“Did you see this?” Lorarona called out, examining the side of it closely. “There are some words on the black box in the slot!”

“Oh?” Miles prompted. “What does it say?”

She squinted her eyes as she peered at it. “Undeath of a Salesman.”

No one spoke for a moment. “What does that mean?” Miles asked.

Lorarona frowned. “Haven’t the slightest idea.” She put the device back onto the box.

They exchanged tired glances. “Ready to go?” Miles asked.

“I sure am,” Clancy sighed. “It’s been a long mission.” He motioned toward the purse of holding. “Can I get my books? I’d like to read them for the rest of the day.”

Lorarona blinked. “Oh…sure.” She opened the purse and Clancy grabbed his intellectual bounty.

They left the room and stopped suddenly; Sumi was in the hallway, walking toward them. They stood still as she neared them.

“It’s time for your daily walk,” she stated, proffering a hat and coat. “Would you like these?”

“No thank you, Sumi,” Noninja answered. “The weather outside is pleasant.”

She stood still for a moment; gears whirred audibly inside of her. “Very well.” She turned around to leave.

They eyed each other uncomfortably as they headed to the nearest fire exit. Clancy looked after Sumi, a look of longing on his face, as he gripped his textbooks tightly.

No one spoke until they were outside; the late afternoon sun cast intermittent shadows over the street. “Clancy?” Lorarona piped up. “Are you all right?” She let out a small giggle. “You’re not going to build yourself a girlfriend, are you?”

Clancy stared off into space. “At least she would treat me well.”

They all stopped and stared at Clancy, who walked away, still staring into space.

Lorarona elbowed Noninja. “Remember…he’s a project.”

Noninja frowned. “That’s one word for it.”