Fizzy returned to Dragunov and spent the entire night walking its ticking streets. Astonishingly, the place was almost completely deserted despite the fact that everything was lit up bright as day. The golem expected it to still be full of noise, people, and constructs, but it would appear this was not something Dragunov had in common with Gun Tarum’s Anvil District. Not that she had anything against this change of pace. In fact, she quite liked it. With all the ambient clutter gone, she was able to completely immerse herself in the city’s clockwork heartbeat. She even stepped in time with it unintentionally as she let her feet carry her wherever they wanted because she didn’t feel like steering.
In fact, Fizzy didn’t feel like doing anything at all. She wasn’t running some numbers, pondering a new gadget, looking for her next target, or even wondering where she might find some more metal polish. For the first time in a very long while, her thoughts were completely on hold. It was a welcome reprieve after the hot mess her head had turned into when she saw a glimpse of something that only slightly looked like Keira. Still, she was thankful for it. It made her realize that she really did miss that shapeshifter more than she thought, and that little burial ceremony had done wonders to put that part of her mind to sleep. As such, the golem was enjoying the peace and quiet while she had the chance.
That lasted until about seven in the morning, just before most of the city woke up, when life crashed into Fizzy with its now usual amount of absurdity.
“Big sis! Big sis! Check it out! It’s the shiny lady I saw last night!”
The squeaky voice of a little girl ripped through the solemn streets like an arrow through the arm. Looking up at its source allowed Fizzy to confirm that, at the very least, she hadn’t imagined that phantasm she saw yesterday. The crimson-haired cat-eared beastkin she spied out of the corner of her eye was indeed real, and she was staring down at the golem from the second floor of an apartment building. It wasn’t just one of her, either.
“Wow! I’ve never seen one this fancy!” remarked her older sister. “Look, sweetie! Shiny lady!”
The bundled up baby in her arms, presumably her daughter, giggled happily when she saw the morning sunlight dance off of Fizzy’s head.
“What are you girls going on about down there?”
The window directly above opened up and another red-haired catgirl - or rather catwoman - poked her head out.
“Look mummy!” the youngest replied. “It’s the shiny lady!”
“Ohh! She’s so pretty! I need to get your aunt!”
“Oh, for Harvey’s sake!” Fizzy shouted in frustration. “Just how many of you airheaded meatbags are there?!”
The beastkin family stared at her dumbly for a second before erupting into a shower of laughs and giggles, which only served to irritate the golem more. She couldn’t believe she got so emotional over these cheap knockoffs. Sure, the hair and ears were the same as Keira, but that was where the similarities ended. Their eye colors, pale skin tone and apparent ages were all over the place, so Fizzy felt ashamed for having confused any of them for the original. Well, not that there was an ‘original’ Keira to begin with, but the golem still had the distinct impression she had somehow been cheated.
As for how she even found them in the first place, the answer to that question could be found within the notification that had been floating around in her mind since a while ago.
A special action has been performed. LCK +1.
She just happened to be passing in front of their apartment building by pure coincidence on this crisp, sunny morning.
“I think we should leave before we get dragged into something stupid,” Plus suggested.
Agreed.
The mithril golem turned on her heel and practically ran away from the beastkin family that was, for some reason, still in stitches. The ‘big sis’ tried to call out to her, but the golem ignored her vehemently as she marched straight towards the local Mercenary Guild building, stomped up the stairs, and practically kicked down the door to her room. She found Tony was already awake and in the middle of doing his daily one hundred one-armed push-ups. Only now did it occur to Fizzy that, if she were still flesh and blood, and the hobgoblin wasn’t a hobgoblin, she might find the sight of his sweaty, straining muscles rather appealing. Attractive, even. But she wasn’t a gnome, and he remained a greenskin, so the only feeling the golem was left with was disgust.
“Get off the floor, meatbag.”
“Good morning to you too, boss.”
“Cut the crap. We got work to do.”
“Whatever.”
Tony’s mood wasn’t the best, either. He’d followed Fizzy hoping to glean some dirty secret he could use as leverage if and when the time came, but all he saw was a bunch of sentimental nonsense. Even with her ‘relaxed’ schedule, the golem barely gave him more than six hours of sleep. Wasting half of that allowance on something so pointless made the hob a fair bit cranky, too. Obviously he couldn’t say anything, so he just got his rump into gear like usual. The two of them left the guild and once more made for the Ritz at the base of the Spire. As before, it wasn’t difficult to navigate towards it, but it took some time to cover all that ground on foot. By the time Fizzy and Tony actually got there, Dragunov’s gnomish population was wide awake and back to business as usual. It was a bit curious how the streets went from ‘practically deserted’ to ‘unbearably crowded’ in less than five minutes, but that was a consequence of every single citizen’s workday starting at the exact same time. The locals could be overheard calling this phenomenon ‘rush hour.’
There was considerably less traffic around the Royal Institute of Technology, though this was mostly due to the huge amount of space available. The engineering college had a huge triangular campus surrounding the base of the Spire, separated from the rest of Dragunov via metal fences. There were three main buildings on site and a few smaller, supplementary facilities scattered throughout the paved campus grounds. The one closest to the Institute’s grandiose gates was marked as ‘Administration.’ It was a three-story mansion-like structure that was no doubt full of laboratories, lecture halls, and offices. This was also Fizzy’s best bet to get the answers she needed, so she headed there immediately.
As she walked the yellow-tiled stone path to it, she couldn’t help but gawk at the facilities present here. There was a dorm building, a factory, a store, a security station - it was practically a city within the city. The highlight of the area was undoubtedly that behemoth of a Spire in the middle. It was 163 meters of concrete, glass, and metal. Its shape was a cone with a diameter of exactly one quarter its height, its outer walls concave and mostly smooth aside from the few coils, pipes, and vents scattered throughout. The scale alone was a miracle of engineering, yet its function encroached on the realm of the gods.
The Spire - not its official name, of course - was a climate control machine that had maintained idyllic springtime weather within a 40-kilometer radius for the better part of a century. How, exactly, it accomplished this was unknown. The means through which it remained operational for so long were equally mysterious, as were the circumstances behind its creation. This was partly because the Spire had no actual point of entry to facilitate an inquiry into its inner workings. There were no windows, no ladders, no maintenance shafts - not even a keyhole. Securing an entry through brute force was an option, but not one the government was willing to take. They were too afraid they’d break this historic monument to technology and sully the Original Artificer’s legacy.
As for the person who built it, her name was Ekaterina Dragunova. She was a human otherworlder whose knowledge of machinery and science was said to have been hundreds of years ahead of her time. Unsurprising, considering this alien realm she and others like her hailed from was supposedly filled with mechanical marvels that might as well have been magic, or so their story usually went. However, what set Ekaterina apart was that she had the knowledge and expertise necessary to recreate those wondrous devices from scratch. Her achievements were monumental, and easily comparable to those of Tol-Saroth. Indeed, many parallels could be drawn between the elven sage and the Original Artificer, but one way in which they differed greatly was how their story ended. When Tol-Saroth died, he toppled a millennium-old nation and threw half the continent into chaos. Ekaterina, on the other hand, just quietly vanished one night about ninety years ago, taking nearly all her secrets with her. Some say her mysterious disappearance was in fact orchestrated by the High King, who feared what this so-called Queen of Science was capable of if she ever made a power play.
Such things were of little concern to Fizzy, however. She came to the Ritz seeking answers, and she wasted no time in making her way over to the front desk as soon as she entered Administration. It was staffed by a handsome-looking gnome with short black hair and a goatee, dressed in a crisp and formal shirt-and-vest outfit. His eyes fell on the golem when he noticed her approach and lingered for a bit, but his gaze was then redirected towards the cloaked stranger following closely behind.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“I’m sorry, sir, but could you please have your domestic automaton wait at the door?”
The man was just trying to be helpful, but in the process committed the grave sin of ignoring Fizzy.
“What did you just call me?!”
Naturally, she didn’t take it too well.
“This is pure gods-damned mithril! You think some walking appliance is worthy of such radiant construction?! Are you really that daft, or are you just blind?!”
“I, uh… I’m, uh, sorry?”
The flabbergasted gnome mumbled something of an apology as he tried to process this sudden development. He had heard constructs speak before, but they always had dull monotones and lacked any sort of inflection. Yet this one clearly sounded pissed off, which was not a good sign to say the least. Thankfully her ire quickly simmered down to minor disgruntlement.
“Look, it’s a long story, but I used to be a gnome before this shield here cursed me and turned me into a golem. Really, I’m just like you, but better in every possible way.”
“Oh. I see. So that’s how it was.”
The receptionist was smiling and nodding as if he understood the situation, but it was all an act. He really wanted to just turn around, go out back, and dunk his head in a bucket of cold water. Of all the things to start his day off, it just had to be… this. Still, the man had seen his fair share of crazy contraptions. How much of a stretch was it to just accept the fact that this golem used to be a person? Not an impossible one, to be sure.
“I apologize for my behavior, madam,” he bowed deeply. “It may have been out of ignorance, but I’ve still done something horribly rude to a visitor. Please forgive me, I meant no offense.”
“Wow, this guy is a pro at brown-nosing!”
“Hee-hee-hee…”
A chuckle from Tony implied he shared Plus’s thoughts, though perhaps with less admiration and more contempt.
“It’s fine so long as it doesn’t happen again,” Fizzy magnanimously ignored the two.
“Thank you, madam. Now, what can I assist you with?”
“I’m here to inquire about becoming an associate professor at the Royal Institute of Technology. What sort of qualifications do I need to meet before anyone will give my application the light of day?”
Normally the clerk would groan upon hearing this question. His desk saw about five wannabe professors per day on average, all of them with painfully unrealistic ambitions. But, if giving those tired answers would placate this potentially dangerous construct, then the clerk would gladly do so. He didn’t even need to fake his smile.
“To begin with you’d need to be a graduate of this establishment, or be at least a Level 51 Artificer. This is to ensure you possess the bare minimum of technical skill and theoretical knowledge for the position. You also need a full-fledged member of the Institute vouch for you. There are some other considerations as well, but these two are the most important. If you can’t fill either of these criteria, then your chances of employment as an instructor are practically nil.”
The good news was that Fizzy had that first part covered. The bad news was she had no connections for the second one. She expected something like this might happen. Based on what she remembered from Malcolm’s occasional complaints, nepotism was a huge issue here in the Kingdom. Career advancement was more about who you knew than what you could do, and as things stood Fizzy Rustblood was a nobody. However, if everything went according to plan, everyone in Dragunov would want to be her friend before the day was over.
“Did that answer your question, madam?”
“Yes, thank you. I’d also like to inquire about the Vault Beneath the Mountain, and the standing bounty on opening it.”
Yet another dreadfully common topic that the receptionist was well-equipped to answer.
“I actually have a brochure here that should provide you with all the relevant information,” he handed her a booklet.
“Excellent!”
The golem started skimming through the provided material with great gusto. It told her where to go, what to expect, and what the big prize was should she succeed. That was all well and good, but there was a small hiccup that caught her eye.
“I need a Vault-cracker’s permit?” she raised an eyebrow at the clerk.
“Indeed.”
“Why is this a thing?”
“Whenever the Vault gets probed, it likes to… retaliate,” the man winced. “Messy business. There are some legal considerations, and the fees involved are meant to cover the expenses that-”
“Okay, okay, I get it. Just tell me what I need to do.”
“It’s just a few forms, madam. I’ll get them ready forthwith.”
The paperwork involved was relatively light. It was mostly just a signed agreement that absolved the state from any responsibility should the ‘Vault-cracker’ suffer injury or death and a 200 GP charge meant to discourage desperate idiots with nothing to lose. Fizzy made sure to very carefully read the contract, just in case they slipped in something nasty. She did indeed find one such clause. She had to forfeit all physical and intellectual property she might discover if she did indeed open the Vault, but that wasn’t a deal-breaker. As much as she wanted to get her hands on whatever was in there, the prestige and fame she’d receive were more important. The hundred thousand gold pieces was nice, too.
The permit acquisition process went along smoothly, apart from one minor hiccup. Namely, when it came to the matter of Tony. The clerk insisted he needed a permit as well, even if he wasn’t going to do any Vault-cracking. So, Fizzy was forced to reveal both Tony’s hobgoblin nature and his shield-serf status. The gnome behind the desk recoiled in shock and disgust, though it seemed he was more upset about the latter than the former. He wasn’t the first one to show such a reaction. Perhaps, Fizzy pondered, there was some kind of negative stigma or stereotype surrounding shield-serf handlers. If that was the case, she might need to get rid of the greenskin pretty soon, lest his mere presence negatively impact her future reputation.
That was a matter for later. Right now, the golem had the blasted permit and made her way to the Vault Beneath the Mountain. It was situated about twenty kilometers north of Dragunov, at the base of a fairly large mountain, unsurprisingly. This piece of rock in particular was also famous for being home to a dungeon called the Palace of the Crystal Maiden. Not that Fizzy had any plans or desire to challenge it, but the brochure from earlier mentioned it in passing. As did that giant Priest from last night, actually. When he first saw Fizzy he assumed she was there to get some medallion that was really good at fighting off the cold surrounding that mountaintop dungeon. The golem still had half a mind to get one of those things as a general precaution against her elemental weakness. She wouldn’t need it where she was going, though, as the Vault was still within the permanent spring projected by the Spire. It was also at the end of a well-travelled path surrounded by a barren landscape, meaning the only danger she and Tony faced was boredom. They found plenty of that. So much so that the hobgoblin decided to make a bit of small talk.
“Hey, boss?”
“What? Enemies?”
Judging by that over-eager response, the golem was just as raring for a distraction as he was.
“Sadly not. I just been wonderin’ about dis Vault. You say it’s been dere for like a hundred years?”
“… More or less.”
“And in dat time, with all de big shots and Rankers prowlin’ around, nobody been able to get it open?”
“Obviously not.”
“So what kind a chance we got?”
“A good one, if you ask me. This is a puzzle that can’t be answered with just force.”
“Bah! Of course it can! If force didn’t work de first time, den you just need to use more of it.”
“Normally I’d agree, but anything powerful enough to break down that door would probably obliterate whatever’s behind it. Can’t teleport past it, either, and attempts to dig around have been unsuccessful.”
All of that and more had been outlined in an old book Fizzy read as a child. She’d forgotten most of the details over the years, but the main points still came to her with a bit of mental digging. It portrayed the Vault Beneath the Mountain as some mystical, legendary place full of secret and wonder. Reality, she imagined, was probably far more mundane.
“Still a door. It has a lock, no?” Tony continued.
“Naturally.”
“Not the easily pickable kind, I guess.’”
“Obviously.”
“So what, we gotta find de key?”
“No. Actually, they have one. It just doesn’t work because it’s broken.”
“Uh-huh… De key, or de lock?”
“Hm? What?”
“Which is broken?”
“Ah. Huh. That’s a very good question, actually. From what I know it’s the lock, but it could be either. Or both. Guess I’ll see when we get there.”
“Psst! Positive reinforcement!” her inner optimist reminded her.
“Good idea, Tony. Might have saved me a lot of headaches.”
“Whatever. Let’s just get dis over with so we can get back to killin’ big things. Or small things. I’ll take anythin’ dat’s killable right about now.”
“Yeah… Tell me about it.”
The rest of the four hour walk was spent hoping in vain for a violent encounter. The pair did run into a few people on the beaten path, but none of them were particularly interested in a friendly throw-down. Or an unfriendly one, for that matter. Eventually, at around noon, Fizzy and Tony finally got a distant glimpse of the Vault Beneath the Mountain. Or rather, the military outpost surrounding it. There was an enormous castle-like wall blocking a narrow gorge that went deep into the mountainside. Several buildings and other fortifications were erected around it, all of them products of the dwarves’ fabled masonry. Of particular note were three watchtowers bearing the Horkensaft Kingdom’s flag, making it clear this was not private property.
This military presence was not a surprise. The government wanted to keep a firm grip on the Vault since the state lay claim to any secrets or materials sleeping inside. Normally those would have been the rightful property of Ms. Dragunova’s descendants, but she didn’t leave any. Her belongings therefore defaulted to the crown in accordance with the law. However, while this outpost’s existence made sense to Fizzy, the way it was set up did not. She’d gained a basic understanding of defensive lines during the war, and those fortifications certainly fit the bill. There were plenty of elevated positions and a gate to funnel attackers into, assuming they didn’t try their luck at scaling the imposing twenty-meter-tall walls. The watchtowers and supplementary fortifications would serve adequately as a secondary line in case the first was breached. It was a solid perimeter in the golem’s limited experience, yet it was facing the wrong way.
In other words, as far as Fizzy could tell, this outpost wasn’t meant to ward off invaders attacking the Vault, but to keep something from escaping that hole in the mountain.