Evelyne’s fingers danced along the intricate carvings of her worktable, tracing the etched runes that hummed softly under her touch. The workshop was a symphony of mechanical whirs and buzzes, accompanied by the steady thuds of hammers and the grinding of metal upon stone.

Screens of thin gauzy cloth hung from the rafters, billowing with each passing breeze and dampening the noise beyond. The soft glow of magi-crystals cast shadows upon the walls and illuminated the many tools and components scattered about the tables.

The air was redolent with the scent of burning coal and hot iron, a fragrance as familiar to Evelyne as the smell of the morning dew on the forest leaves. This was home.

"Pas possible," Evelyne muttered, the words slipping into her native tongue. "The energy flow here is all wrong."

She brushed a stray lock of raven hair from her forehead, leaving a smudge of grease as a temporary mark of her dedication. Her emerald eyes flashed as she concentrated on her current project—a clockwork automaton intended for the Harvest Festival. It consisted of dozens of separate mechanisms, all carefully interconnected and synchronized to move in perfect harmony.

Evelyne fumbled with a gear, slipping her fingers beneath a narrow cog, twisting and maneuvering the pieces together as she focused on their arrangement.

Something poked her side, making her yelp and drop the piece. She spun around, only to find Viviane grinning at her, holding up the misplaced component in her hands.

"My, what an excellent craftsman you are, Mademoiselle Blaise," the young woman teased, offering the cog back to Evelyne with a playful grin.

"Viviane!" Evelyne protested, snatching the gear away and placing it safely aside. "What have I told you about sneaking up on me while I'm working?"

The blonde girl shrugged, taking a sip of coffee from her mug. "To not to, but you've been working on that thing all day, and I needed to make sure you haven't forgotten to eat. Again."

Evelyne huffed indignantly as she grabbed a rag to wipe her hands with. "Merci, ma chère amie, but I have no time to dilly-dally, I must finish this automaton for the festival. There's so much to do, and—"

"Evelyne," Viviane interrupted, resting a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder. "Take a break. Please. You've been cooped up here since sunrise, and the sun is nearly setting."

"I'm fine, just a few more adjustments—"

"S'il vous plaît? Just have a quick meal, and you'll be energized to return to work refreshed."

Evelyne pouted, her stomach rumbling at the mention of food. She eyed the automaton sitting on the workbench, sighing with resignation as she conceded to her hunger. "Fine. But after we eat, I need to return to my work."

Viviane grinned, tugging her by the arm out of the workshop and into the street. "Absolument! A well-fed worker is a productive one, as my father used to say. And if we hurry, we can make it to the feast hall before the main courses are gone."

"Oui, oui," Evelyne muttered, allowing herself to be led along. She hadn't realized how late in the day it was, and her mind raced with thoughts of the tasks left incomplete. How many more gears did she need to affix to the inner workings? Were the servos properly aligned? Are the magi-crystals balanced and attuned to their respective functions?

Her mind whirred like the mechanics of her designs, an endless torrent of calculations, formulas, and equations constantly churning as she planned out her next steps.

Before she knew it, the two of them had entered the bustling feast hall, and the noise brought her back to reality. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the aromas of roasted meats and baked bread, steamed vegetables, and savory soups.

All around her, people sat at tables eating their meals, chatting amicably among themselves, their laughter and conversation filling the air with warmth and cheer.

In the middle of the room stood the banquet table, piled high with food, its surface laden with plates full of freshly cooked meats, vegetables, and fruit. The aroma wafted towards her, causing her stomach to growl ferociously.

Viviane tugged her toward the banquet table, and they filled their plates to the brim, joining the lively crowd for a delicious and hearty meal.

Once finished, they returned to the workshop and continued their work, but even Evelyne had to admit, the break was a pleasant distraction, one that reinvigorated her to tackle the remaining tasks with renewed vigor.

Dimitri was already hard at work, using his arcane energy to fuse various parts together, creating a complex series of interlocking mechanisms within the mechanical torso of the automaton.

"It's coming along nicely," he remarked, adjusting a small magi-crystal mounted on the inner paneling of the clockwork creation. "Perhaps you might need to add a little more detail to the design, however, but overall, I believe the results will be quite pleasing."

"Merci, Dimitri. Your insight is invaluable."

"Please, there's no need to flatter me, Evelyne." He waved her off, grinning. "This is what friends do."

Viviane sat beside them, listening quietly as she tinkered with a few smaller components.

After several hours of continuous work, they had assembled the majority of the body, with only minor modifications remaining. The exterior had been polished to a gleam, and the internal mechanisms functioned smoothly, providing a satisfying sense of completeness as they fitted the last piece into place.

"That should be sufficient," Evelyne declared, standing back to admire their handiwork. "With any luck, the revelers will be delighted with the display. Now, for the finishing touches."

Dimitri conjured an arcane flame, infusing it with his own mana before directing it to the magi-crystals installed inside the clockwork creation's chest. The crystals glowed, activating the magical circuits connected to the mechanism, powering it to life. The gears whirred, the springs unwinding, the pistons pumping rhythmically as the limbs moved, flexing and bending with a graceful fluidity.

The mechanical figure swiveled its head, its faceted ruby eyes glimmering as they caught the light. It rose to its feet, the magi-crystals flickering briefly as they adjusted to the increased strain of supporting the newfound weight. The joints creaked, the movement stiff, but as the arcane flames burned brighter, the clockwork creature grew more nimble.

"Succès!" Evelyne cheered. "I daresay we've outdone ourselves this time, mes amis."

Viviane approached the humanoid automaton, tapping on the bronze casings of the elbow joints, nodding appreciatively. "Not bad, Evelyne, not bad at all."

Dimitri wiped a smudge of soot from the cheek of the automaton. "A splendid achievement indeed," he concurred, casting a glance at the workbench. "What else remains to be completed?"

Evelyne turned her attention to the cluttered table, her eyes sweeping over the numerous tools and components strewn about. "Just the aesthetic finishing touches. I'll have the others decorate the automaton just before we set out. Until then, it can stay powered down and ready to go."

"Excellent. I hope that's all the work to do for tonight."

"For now, yes."

The older artificer chuckled, shaking his head with amusement. "Very well, then. If there's nothing further requiring my assistance, I'll retire to my quarters. Good night, Evelyne. Good night, Viviane."

"Bonne nuit, Dimitri."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

They waved goodbye, watching as he ambled out the door, before returning to clean up the workbench.

"It's a pity he has to leave early," Viviane mused.

"It's the curse of growing old," Evelyne lamented, gathering the remaining tools and placing them neatly into the appropriate cases. "Even so, I'm grateful to have his wisdom to rely on."

Viviane nodded, picking up the empty crates and stacking them beside the exit. "I suppose we should retire too," she suggested, stifling a yawn. "It's getting quite late."

Evelyne looked at the rows of hanging screens, the workbench, the scattered components, and the powered-down automaton looming in the corner. A hint of reluctance sparked inside her. It was difficult to admit, but her mind craved for the stimulation of another project.

She sighed, squashing the urge down, turning back to her friend with a faint smile. "Oui. Let's go, Vivi."

Together, they departed, closing the door to the workshop behind them, leaving only the dim glow of the magi-crystals to illuminate the dark interior.

"Tomorrow, we shall continue."

----------------------------------------

In the week that unfurled towards the Harvest Festival, the town of Ebonheim transformed beneath an industrious spell. Viviane and Dimitri, at Evelyne's subtle urging, oversaw the various teams in charge of constructing the stage for the performers, building the barricades and walkways, and erecting the booths for the festival's various games. Meanwhile, Evelyne handled the decorations, delegating the crafting and assembling of ornaments and trimmings to a group of volunteers.

Each day, Evelyne strode through the town, her presence a silent sonnet amidst the clamor of preparations. Her every step exuded grace and elegance, and even the slightest movement of her fingertips held the slightest amount of poise. As she inspected the various works, her pace never slowed, and her voice was clear and commanding, offering encouragement and praise where due.

The Harvest Festival fast approached, and as the days drew closer, the bustling frenzy around the village reached a fevered pitch, fueled by a fervent passion to present a grand spectacle to their delectable goddess.

Evelyne stood in front of the members of her guild who volunteered to be involved in the performance, addressing the crew gathered by the village square.

"We need something that captures the essence of Valétour," she said, her tone solemn as she swept her gaze over the faces of her colleagues. "Une éclat, a burst of life and color, that speaks of our homeland."

Viviane nodded, her silver eyes brightening with shared fervor. "And music," she added, her hands gesturing as if she could pluck the notes from the air itself. "Our dance needs a melody, a tune that matches the tempo of the beat. Something inspiring and stirring, yet lighthearted and joyful at the same time."

"La musique de chez nous," Dimitri agreed, smiling softly. "Music that expresses our very essence. But it must be more than just a performance. It must be an experience. Do we have such a melody?"

The people glanced at each other, murmuring uncertainly, until one of the musicians raised her hand timidly—Emile Leclère, Viviane's best friend and fellow Artificer.

"There is a song..." she ventured hesitantly, glancing at the others. "It's quite old, but I believe the tune would fit the description. I'll bring it over this evening for you to hear."

"Fantastique!" Evelyne exclaimed, clapping her hands together with delight. "Bring forth your greatest effort, Emile, and the rest shall follow. I expect nothing less than perfection for our debut."

Another member raised his hand tentatively. "What if we use the Magilumina Spheres? They could hover above the crowd, each one a lantern, casting hues of light as we perform. The illumination would add atmosphere, and it's more visual and impactful compared to other options."

Viviane raised a finger thoughtfully. "Oui, and with each note of music, the spheres change color, a visual symphony to accompany the auditory."

Dimitri’s chuckle resonated from the back as he rested a hand on the shoulders of the young man. "An enchanting idea. But we must ensure safety. We cannot have a repeat of the Solstice Fair."

Evelyne coughed as the recollection of that particular mishap sprang to her mind. The memory of the minor explosion that had singed more than a few eyebrows remained fresh. A mistake they could ill afford to replicate, especially not in front of Ebonheim.

"C'est vrai," she conceded. "We shall refrain from using anything flammable or combustible, to be safe. Now, I understand we have selected a variety of materials for costume design and decoration?"

A chorus of affirmation rang from the crowd, and Evelyne smiled, pleased to hear their enthusiasm.

"Bon, let us begin!"

Their conversations wove through the day, as they toiled over their respective assignments. The hours slipped by, measured only by the progress of their labor and the occasional shared laughter that made the work light.

By sunset, they had erected a temporary stage in the center of the square, furnished with wooden planks, ropes, and curtains. Rows of chairs surrounded the platform, facing the empty space reserved for the performances.

Half of the spheres had been retrieved, lined up neatly in rows and arranged to await activation. The musicians took turns tuning their instruments, plucking and strumming while conversing softly.

Viviane stretched her arms above her head, her gaze lingering on the spheres. "Ebonheim will be enchanted," she said, her voice carrying a hint of sly teasing. "As will be certain... observers." She gave Evelyne a sideways look.

Evelyne’s cheeks warmed at the implication, and she shook her head vehemently. "Tais-toi," she scolded, jabbing an elbow at her friend. "You've been hanging around Emile too much. Her imagination and romantic delusions are rubbing off on you."

Viviane gasped with mock shock. "Oh dear, you're right. If you'll excuse me, I shall run to the other side of town so she can't infect me further."

Emile, who had been practicing a series of flourishes and gestures in a corner, paused to glare at Viviane. "Excusez-moi?! I beg your pardon, I don't appreciate being called an infection. You'd be lucky to get infected with the good looks and charisma that comes naturally to me." She struck a dramatic pose, one foot perched on a nearby crate.

The blond grinned, rolling her eyes. "You wish."

Emile shrugged and returned to her practice, and Viviane shifted her gaze back to Evelyne, who tried and failed to suppress a snicker.

"She has an unhealthy obsession with romance, and now you're falling into her trap as well," Evelyne observed, smoothing down the hem of her blouse. "Whatever happened to the Vivi I know who doesn't waste her time on trivialities?"

"I believe she was replaced by a Vivi who sees a good opportunity when it presents itself," the blond replied innocently, the corners of her lips curled upward in a mischievous smirk as she leaned in. "You're not fooling me, Evelyne. The only reason you decided to tackle the task of being the director of festivities—and—the organizer of the performances, is because you secretly want to show off your skills to our new patron, n'est-ce pas?"

This comment earned an outburst of snickers from Emile, who stopped to listen in.

"Pas du tout!" Evelyne hissed, her cheeks reddening. "The only thing I seek to showcase is my expertise as Les Artisanats d'Éclair's master artificer."

This was turning into a losing battle, so Evelyne crossed her arms with a defiant pout. She needed to regain control of the conversation. Fast.

"Enough, let us focus on the task at hand. Viviane, go prepare the costumes with the others. Dimitri, you handle the spheres, and the rest of you, please fetch the materials and bring them to the makeshift dressing area in the hall. We've wasted enough time chatting."

A chorus of affirmatives followed, and with some effort, the troupe dispersed, busying themselves with their respective duties.

Only once she had regained her composure did Evelyne allow herself a tiny sigh of relief. She surveyed the half-constructed stage and the scattered work-in-progress props, frowning slightly.

It's far from ideal, but it'll have to do.

Evelyne closed her eyes, tilting her head upward as she whispered a silent prayer to Ebonheim, asking for forgiveness and understanding.

"You called?" Ebonheim's voice came from behind.

Evelyne yelped, jumping in surprise, nearly knocking over the props she'd been working on. Her heart raced, and she pressed a hand to her chest as she whipped around to face the goddess.

"I apologize for startling you," Ebonheim began, sounding genuinely regretful. "But I came here to ask for a favor."

Evelyne's heart raced as she gazed at Ebonheim, who seemed even more dazzling than usual.

But more importantly...How long has she been there? Did she hear what Viviane said?

A trickle of sweat rolled down her back. This could be potentially embarrassing, but Evelyne pushed those thoughts away and forced herself to calm down. "Of course, ma déesse Ebonheim. I'm always happy to help. What do you need?"

Ebonheim averted her eyes, fiddling with her fingers, almost seeming a bit shy. "Well...I was hoping you had some free time during the week to help me pick out an outfit for the festival," she blurted out, her voice unusually soft. "I...don't really have any, and I don't know what would suit me the best, or what's currently in fashion."

Evelyne pinched her arm discreetly, as she stared at Ebonheim with wide eyes. She couldn't be serious, could she?

"Q-quoi?" she stammered, struggling to compose herself. "Are you...asking me for advice?"

"If you wouldn't mind." Ebonheim rubbed her arm nervously. "I'd be eternally grateful for your input. Your fashion sense seems impeccable, and I'm sure you'd find something suitable for me."

"I...er, uh. Well, of course, I'd be happy to help you. After all, I am Les Artisanats d'Éclair's premier designer and stylist." She let out a breath, straightening her posture and flashing a winning smile. "Give me a few minutes to gather my supplies and materials, and we'll be off!"

Ebonheim's expression brightened, and she clasped hands with her, squeezing affectionately. "Thank you, Evelyne. I promise not to keep you for too long—"

Oh déesse.

The sudden stimuli of Ebonheim's touch and the unexpected proximity of their faces left Evelyne in a state of sensory overload—and she fainted.