Dante was a merchant-artisan in the glorious city of Yorel. Peasants came to him for quality tools for cultivating the stubborn land, townspeople asked him to create elaborate furniture for their homes, and nobles were ready to give him all their money if only he would make them a new and intricate toy. And all these orders were carried out without a hitch: the peasants received the highest quality tools for themselves so that their tired hands needed to do less work, the townspeople surprised their guests with new furniture, earning respect from their wealthy friends, and the nobles had joy at the holidays again, where guests could not get enough of the gracefully fluttering wooden ballerina on the table, or the wonderful aluminum birds floating freely under the ceiling.
But there were also more interesting orders. For example, members of the royal family who wanted to protect themselves thoroughly. Or the heads of underground organizations in need of workers who would not complain about dampness or disgusting working conditions, or even the lack of payment for their work! Even to such requests, Dante had an answer, although the price was much higher than ordinary shiny coins. After all, to make the metal live, you need much more than the regular ringing gold. To create a golem, Dante needed to make metal understand human speech, it was necessary to make his non-existent heart beat, it was necessary... to play god. And for such orders, he always demanded an equivalent exchange. Something that could power a new assistant to be a faithful servant for the owner. Something that could serve as a heart.
Everyone in the city knew and respected Dante. After all, thanks to his work, people of all classes had access to various amenities that were not available for purchase in the bazaar or from overseas merchants. And for his work, he earned not only respect, but also protection - not a single city gang dared to poke his nose into his shop for theft, and if someone was stupid enough, then their head was soon found lying on the hands of the statue in the city center, for other thieves to see. It's safe to say that the criminal hierarchy had a clear set of priorities when it came to protecting their supplier.
As you can imagine, it would be almost impossible to run such a shop alone. Therefore, Dante created several handy iron golems for himself. Their arms were carefully carved from wood, and their joints consisted of bearings and leather straps. They were thoughtless constructs, unable to speak or complain. The same ones that he supplied to other people, just dressed in the robes of a merchant. They cleaned the stall from the dirt that the peasants brought with them after working in the field, took countless orders from people, and if their Creator showed them any blueprints, then they themselves fulfilled hard orders for people. But they couldn't do what Dante himself could do—make art, carve exquisite patterns into oak figurines, or even sculpt clay masks. After all, the machine does not know human art, even with the help of a blueprint. Soullessness will always be visible in products, chips and scratches on clay will always be visible, sticking out chips from incorrectly planed figures will always be visible. Therefore, Dante himself created all such orders. And the more intricate the thing was, the more difficult it was to make it, the longer it took time. Sometimes he didn't leave the cellar for several days, so the shop came to the stop! But one day Dante had enough. He needed an apprentice with the same experience as his. He needed an apprentice who would keep his mouth shut about some of the sales, but at the same time could help with the quality of the production of goods for them. And he got an idea.
For the first time in a week, people saw Dante on the street. His hands were up to the elbows covered in fillings and dust, and his face showed an expression of extreme fatigue. He walked towards the city library. There he spent the rest of the day reading books in basement of the building, which is usually locked. The librarian, of course, took advantage of the moment and offered an exchange - Dante would make a trinket for him, and in return he would be allowed into the halls of locked knowledge. He agreed, after which he took a lamp from the counter and left. The next morning he came out of the basement with a smile and a face brighter than a lamp into which he had spilled more fuel than was required from tiredness. In silence, he went back to his stall, where he took out a book, previously hidden in a deep pocket of his raincoat, and began to work on a new creation. He had his assistants fire up the oven to white heat while he sculpted the clay molds for the limbs. Instead of ordinary iron, he took out copper, instead of the old golem hearts, he began to create a new one, from precious stones and metals. While Dante was doing delicate work, his golems were smelting copper. When most of the work was done, he went to a vat of hot metal and, taking a makeshift knife from the table, made an incision on his wrist, bleeding on the hissing brass. From his mouth came words that had never been heard before, and the metal began to sparkle. The assistants then carefully poured it into limb molds, which were hollow and more human-like than their own. Dante picked up the core, created specifically for his apprentice, and went to the closet, where there was a dusty jar with an unknown liquid in which ... a heart floated. A small human heart hovered in the substance without moving, as if in anticipation.
“Son, soon you will be able to talk with me again…” Dante said as a tear ran down his cheek. He carefully opened the jar and, taking out the heart from there, carefully placed it in the core, after which he poured the remaining liquid into it, and closed the compartment with a sparkling stone. The core was carefully placed in the body of the golem, after which Dante personally collected his body, instructing his assistants to take care of the store. A few hours later, a shiny frame was laying on the table, resembling a man in its structure, and the Creator went upstairs, pleased with his work.
Days passed, customers came and went, orders were fulfilled on schedule. Only... Dante was restless. He was waiting for something. And that something was a thunderstorm that happened on the fifth day after the creation of the body. And what a storm it was! Not a single villaher stuck his nose out, afraid to get wet in a matter of seconds. But that didn't stop Dante. He waited until late to make sure there were no buyers, then tied the body to a cart and drove it into the fields. His golems kept pace, sometimes replacing their master and dragging a heavy cart, crushing the grass under them. As soon as they reached an open and clean field, Dante ordered them to stop, while he spread his arms and looked into the sky. Cold rain washed over his face, a strong wind blew his hair. He began to read unheard texts from his memory that only made the wind stronger. His intonation grew, and with it, the strength of the storm grew. Thunder rumbled, the wind howled. Now the rain did not wash the skin, but literally hurt with its drops, however, this did not stop Dante. And suddenly he yelled. Lightning struck the body of a copper creature and it howled in pain, because that very blow launched a previously dead heart. Dante couldn't believe his ears as the creature slowly turned its head.
He had just created a Warforged.
Dante ran up to him and, with tears in his eyes, which were quickly washed away by the rain, began to untie the warforged.
“Vikurad, Vikur, do you remember me?!” he shouted, trying to be louder than the howling of the wind. But Vikur just shook his head. For him, Dante was the Creator and Master. Nothing from the human past remained in his memory, because the very existence of a machine and a human soul in one body would be impossible if one of them did not accept a new body. But somehow he was different from other golems. Warforged did not understand his sobbing master, but he ... sympathized with him. Metal got feelings. Metal got the ability to think. Metal… got the ability to create.
After that day, Dante taught Vikur many different things. In the basement they spent most of the day, where Warforged honed his craft. Soon, Dante no longer worked alone on complex orders, because now he had an apprentice who was able to work no worse than his master. Vikurad, in turn, began to know the spectrum of human emotions. He learned what joy is when a client first gave him a tip. He learned what pain is when he took a red-hot sword blade in his hands. After that, Dante had to smooth out the bumps of molten metal on the hands of his apprentice, giving him gloves after that so that this would not happen again. He learned what anger is when an elegant clay figurine, which he carved together with his Creator, cracked after two hours of hard work and had to be redone. Vikurad slowly but surely learned the human world anew. But what he couldn't understand was the reasons for his brothers' silence... The golems wandering mindlessly around the store seemed to be like him - taking orders, helping Dante, wielding the instrument. But they couldn't feel or speak anything, which upset Vikur and made him think. After all, it cannot be that a simple difference in the metal gives him all these feelings ...
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Days, weeks passed. Vikur became his father's right hand in the workshop. He was able to independently create both simple hoes with a handle made especially for weak people, and those very new toys that so entertained the nobles. Once they even tried to buy Warforged from Dante! But he completely refused, saying that no money or even jewelry could replace his faithful apprentice. On that day, Vikur and his master had to assemble the golem together, because no noble would leave empty-handed, such is their greedy nature.
But every happy life is destined to have its end. So the war came to the city of Yorel, raging throughout the kingdom. The people were furious at the actions of the king, his greed and corruption threatened to destroy their entire glorious nation! The patience of the people was not infinite, so at one moment people took to the streets and went against the king. During the war, the goods of the shop changed a little... Now, instead of convenient tools, people asked for weapons that could penetrate chain mail, instead of furniture, shields, which could withstand a hail of arrows, and instead of wonderful toys - deadly surprises that could kill a group of people.
And Dante and Vikur worked day and night to equip their people with weapons. Even in quiet times, they worked gathering golems to protect their workshop and city. In the evenings, Dante sat in the basement under the lamplight and made intricate mechanisms that could be inserted into Vikur's body while he patrolled the street. The Warforged did not understand the essence of the war, but he felt an emotion unknown to him. It was unpleasant for him to watch how their regular customers, like people whom he considered friends, just ... disappear.
But there was no end in sight to the war, and the peasants who were beating the gates of the capital were exhausted. The troops of the people were starving, because people stopped working on the fields. But the king's troops, on the contrary, flourished, as always. Overseas merchants did not care about war and did not care about bloodshed. They needed money, and the king, who had deprived his people of hope, that he had deprived his people of a future, had enough money to feed the guards. And soon the course of the war turned back: the royal guard went on the attack, going to the exhausted and weakened people. But even so, they suffered losses, because the fury of the people was stronger than ever.
A few days later, the guards beat at the gates of the city of Yorel. The survivors stood ready and waited for them to break through. Suddenly, they heard heavy footsteps behind them. And turning around, they were amazed at the sight... Dante and Vikur led two dozen living machines. The city had a guard of living steel, which gave the people faith in victory. Armor-clad faith. Dante took up a fighting position at his stall, and his apprentice... no, his right hand, Vikurad, led the machines to the gate. From his palm slipped an elegant blade, expertly crafted just for him. Chips flew from the gates, locks shook. Any minute now the guards will be in the city.
The gates swung open, revealing a view of ... dozens, no, hundreds of people. The guards seemed to be already celebrating their victory. Of course, they will do anything for money... Looking at the countless number of soldiers, Dante realized that they would be the last settlement capable of at least something to oppose them on their way. After all, only poor villages remained behind them, who had not really heard about royal power until the height of the war. Apparently, he was not alone with this thought. Some of Yorel's citizens shook, while others tightened their grip on their weapons. This battle will clearly be the last, no matter which side.
Suddenly, in the pale light of the sun, shrouded in clouds, a blade flashed. While everyone stood in a stupor, the nearest soldier screamed and grabbed the stump, from which blood gushed like a fountain. Another swing of the blade and his head rolled to the ground, with the same frozen expression of horror. Lightning flashed and everyone clearly saw - Vikurad stood with a bloody blade raised up. The army froze in fear, while the peasants, on the contrary, rushed into battle with a cry.
Machines easily pierced shields lavishly decorated with gilding and fabric. It was clear that the guards valued their appearance much more than their effectiveness. Dante tried to shoot the soldiers from afar, wielding a makeshift crossbow, while ordinary citizens ran at the enemy, not sparing themselves. If one falls, it will become a defense for the other. Even dying, each of them tried to harm the enemy as much as possible. They fought fiercely for their home, as if they had a single mind.
Vikurad attacked swiftly, each strike resulting in death, and the last thing the guards saw was the gleam of his sword, stained with their own blood. Dante clearly did a great job with creating him. But, apparently, the royal guard did not spend money only on booze, expensive clothes and fabrics. From behind a hill, a dozen people rolled a strange device, like a pipe on wheels. Dante, seeing this from afar, was horrified. He knew what it was.
"Retreat to the city! Quick!” he shouted, but it was too late. A projectile shot out of the cannon barrel, piercing through one of the golems. His body crashed to the ground. The peasants stood up in a stupor. One of their immortal protectors just... died? Taking advantage of the citizens shock, the soldiers fired another volley, sweeping away several people and a machine with a single shot. Some began to retreat in panic, others rushed into battle even more fiercely. Vikurad was filled with rage, because he valued those machines as brothers. Wiping the blood from the blade, he rushed towards the cannon, slicing through the bodies in his path. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the once green meadow with white light. Blood flowed into the lowlands, forming streams. Forged reached the infernal weapon, which took dozens of lives, but did not have time to kill the one who controlled it. The cannon fired another volley, this time with an unusual projectile. In flight, it shattered into small pieces directed towards Yorel. Directed... Towards Dante.
A light swing of the blade and the head flew off the still standing gunsmith. Turning around on the battlefield, he saw that the projectile was aimed at the fleeing ones so that they could not get into good positions. But shrapnel also hit… Dante.
"CREATOR!!" - a mechanical scream rang out across the battlefield, putting everyone into a stupor. They could only watch as the machine raced towards the body of his master lying on the ground. The Warforged ran to Dante and fell to his knees, taking Master in his arms, panicking and searching for the thread in his creator's pockets. But Dante weakly put his palm on Vikur's hand, stopping him.
"Don't… Vic…" he said, coughing up blood onto his shirt. “Still, I wouldn’t be able to help you all in this condition… You’d better take this.”
Dante took a small book out of his pocket and handed it to Vikur.
“This is for you…Remember…I will always love you, son…” he whispered with his last breath. His eyelids slowly lowered, closing his tired eyes. Warforged felt a strange sensation deep in his chest. Drop by drop began to beat on Dante's body. The storm was starting. Looking up at the sky, Vikurad let out a howl, still holding his father's body in his hands.
That day he knew a new pain. Pain of loss.
The peasants who survived that battle told stories to their grandchildren and great-grandchildren for a long time. About a field completely packed with bodies. About a machine so fast, so furious that the blood literally ate into its body. About it’s two blades that cut through the guards' chain mail with ease, as if it were just paper. And they said that the body of the great artisan was never found.
Alas, these stories did not have time to reach the king. Death found him faster. His headless body was found suspended from the balcony of his own palace. Rumor has it that the cut was as smooth as if it had been made by a guillotine. But where this guillotine could’ve come from in the palace remains a mystery.
With the death of the king, one thing was clear - his kingdom came to an end. The guards fled in a panic, and there was not enough food for the citizens for a long time. Therefore, most moved to the neighboring kingdom, some went on wanderings, and some... simply died of hunger. But those who survived will continue to tell stories about Vikurad for a long time to come. For some, he was a fairy tale, and for others, a real hero. The truth is that in all stories, no matter how embellished, there is one detail. Or rather, its absence.
Nobody knows where he disappeared.