In the dark of night, a single building lit the pitch black streets of some unknown city's corner. From its chimneys, clouds of smoke rose into endlessly tall columns that seemed to pierce the skies themselves and reach ever onwards. Inside, the air was hot and thick. Several dozen furnaces were lit on full blast, as a constant stream of armaments was produced. Not by humans, however... But by steam, mechanical contraptions. A middle-aged woman closely inspected the weapons and armor produced by the countless machines that formed an assembly line. Suddenly, a thunderous clap is heard by the entrance of the workshop. The whole building shakes.
Middle-aged woman: Dammit...!
Red lights illuminate the inside of the workshop. By the entrance stood a counter to receive the customers, out of which rose two mechanical turrets. They set their sights on the target: an elderly man who had entered through a grey portal. Through what seemed to be some voice-propagation system installed in the ceiling of the workshop, a young girl's voice could be heard, heavily fused with static.
Young girl: Stay very, very still, old man! I dunno how you got here, but if you so much as move a muscle you'll be turned into one dead, wrinkly strainer...!
The older woman rushed to the entrance as fast as she could, but it seemed she was too late. The sound of machines clattering and breaking echoed throughout the building, as cogs and wheels flew all around the place and across the floor.
Middle-aged woman: Foolish girl...
Young girl: Crap... I was sure these would work this time...!
From beneath the counter, the young girl rises. She had ginger hair, and a welder's mask covered her face. She held what seemed to be a makeshift rifle of sorts, not dissimilar from the turrets that had just broken into pieces beside her. She promptly pointed it at the intruder.
Young girl: Who are you, and how did you get here?!
Ballo laughs.
Ballo: Are you sure you want to use that...? Look what happened to your other two thingamajigs!
The young girl lowers her weapon as she hears his voice.
Young woman: ... Owl...?
Ballo smiles.
Ballo: Not anymore, I'm afraid. Is your teacher here?
Young girl: Ah ah! Not a teacher anymore, I graduated...!
She looks at the broken inventions.
Young girl: ... Barely...
From the corner comes the other woman. She seemed quite angry.
Middle-aged woman: YOU!
Straight as an arrow, her index finger points at the girl.
Middle-aged: How many times will-
She stops mid-sentence, as a terrible cough takes over her. The young one uses this opportunity to make her escape.
Young girl: I know, I know...! A couple of bolts must've come loose, is all... I'll fix them, sorry!
She grabs as many broken metal pieces from the floor as she can and rushes to the back of the workshop.
Middle-aged woman: We're not done here yet, Rotavitea...!
Rotavitea (Young girl): What's that? Can't hear you, it's too noisy back here!
She sighs as she turns to Ballo.
Middle-aged woman: So... Is that really you? I can't even remember the last time I've seen you without your robes and mask. You look damn old.
He laughs.
Ballo: You're not looking so young either, my dear...! It was quite long ago since we last spoke. Do you have some time? We ought to catch up.
She raises her brow.
Middle-aged woman: I guess I'll make some... Come on.
She leads him to a room far enough from the assembly lines that the sound would not disturb them as much. They each take a seat around a small, round table.
Middle-aged woman: So. I assume you finally came to claim that debt...?
Ballo smiles.
Ballo: Straight to the point, as always... Sorry that I haven't visited much. I-
She shakes her head and interrupts.
Midle-aged woman: Save it. You helped us when we needed, we owe you. Now, cut to the chase.
Ballo furrows his brow.
Ballo: Is something the matter...?
She does not answer.
Ballo: I realize it's been a while since we've spoken, but as always, if there's anything you need...
He looks at her with kind eyes, not dissimilar from the eyes a father would look at his child with.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Ballo: You know you can count on me.
She stands up, and reaches for the drawer of a nearby cupboard. From within, she takes out a dusty silver bell.
Middle-aged woman: You can take this back.
The woman firmly places it on the table, right in front of him.
Middle-aged woman: If I didn't need it until now, I won't be needing it in the time I have left.
Ballo seems confused.
Middle-aged woman: I've had this strange cough for a couple of years now... Seems the fumes have finally caught up to me. I've seen three doctors so far, they all tell me the same thing: my lungs won't last much longer. I'm going to die soon.
His eyes widen.
Ballo: But-
Middle-aged: I don't need to hear it. I know you care... But this time, there's nothing you or anybody else can do for me.
She looks through a window next to the room's door. The young girl could be seen on the other side, bent over a worktable, tightening the screws of some device.
Middle-aged woman: I just ask that you take care of Rota. She can almost run the workshop on her own... But she's still a child.
Ballo grabs her hands, placing them on the table. She does her best not to look him in the eye.
Ballo: How much time do you have left...?
Middle-aged woman: ... Around a year.
Her eyes begin to tear up, but she quickly withdraws her hands from Ballo's to wipe them away.
Middle-aged woman: Enough. I didn't want to talk about this so soon...
Ballo: Soon...? A year will go by in a flash, Clavia...!
Clavia (Middle-aged woman): Enough! You'll take care of her, won't you?
Ballo doesn't answer.
Clavia: Take this as a request, take it as an order, take it as a desperate cry for help... Take it as you will: take care of her. You must.
He grabs the bell, wiping away as the dust that coated it.
Ballo: I cannot promise you that. I don't know if I myself will live so long...
Hearing this seemed to make her angry.
Clavia: What do you mean?! What did you get yourself into?
He shakes his head.
Ballo: It's... Complicated. I can only promise you this: for as long as my body permits me, I will look after her as if she was my own flesh and blood.
Clavia squints, twisting her face in doubt.
Clavia: Some promise that is...
He extends the bell to her.
Ballo: If you're not going to use it, then give it to her. Tell her it's a gift from me.
Clavia seems almost insulted by this suggestion.
Clavia: She's young but she's not stupid, Ballo! She knows what that bell is for. If I give it to her, she'll know something is wrong.
He raises his eyebrows in surprise.
Ballo: ... So you haven't even told her.
Clavia: I don't plan to.
Ballo shakes his head.
Ballo: Then at least use it in your final moments, so I can know when-
Clavia: Never. You won't see me in my deathbed. Neither will she.
Ballo bangs his fist on the table, as he stands up.
Ballo: You really are stubborn!
Clavia: Damn right I am, and I haven't been getting any better with age...!
He places the bell down on the table as firmly as Clavia had placed it just moments ago.
Ballo: I won't take it with me.
Clavia: Then I'll melt it into a puddle!
Ballo: We'll see about that...!
He instantly grabs the bell and steps close to her. In the blink of an eye, he grabs one of her hands, placing the bell in her palm. Ballo then casts a glyph, as he says some mysterious words. The incantantion lasted mere moments. After he removes his hands, the bell phases through Clavia's fingers.
Clavia: What did you do...?!
Ballo: I made sure you won't be able to dispose of that bell, no matter what you try.
He grabs the bell from the ground, and puts it inside the drawer it was initially in, closing it afterward.
Clavia: You're not more stubborn than me, Ballo...!
Clavia opens the drawer once more, but it passes right through the bell. She pulls the entire drawer out, yet much to her surprise, the bell stood still in mid-air. It was as if no action she took could affect it, as if it denied any attempt she made to interact with it.
Ballo: You'll only be able to move that bell once I'm dead, Clavia.
Angrily, she shoves the drawer back in its slot.
Clavia: You're an annoying old man...!
Ballo: And you're a bitter, stubborn woman...!
Their burning eyes were locked with each other, both of them trying their best to carefully weigh their next words, aware that it would be all too easy to say something they could regret. However, Clavia didn't resist long.
Clavia: You know, I wish you'd never-
Before she could finish, Ballo hugs her tightly.
Ballo: I will miss you. Very, very much...
His words disarm her completely. She stands there motionless as he hugs her, with tears starting to stream down her face. Several seconds pass.
Clavia: Let... Go... It's not like we're dying tomorrow...
Ballo: We aren't. But still... I didn't think death would come for you so soon...
Clavia: ... I suppose no one ever does...
She hugs him back, as she wipes away her tears.
Ballo: You know Clavia... We should go somewhere. The three of us. Somewhere peaceful, somewhere open, free of the heat and smoke of this workshop... There is something I must do first, but once I'm done... I'll return here and we'll all go. What do you say?
Clavia retreats from the hug.
Clavia: ... How long will that take?
Ballo: A few months, at most. You have my word.
She nodded hesitantly, as if she wasn't completely convinced.
Clavia: I think that would be nice for Rota. See to it that you don't take longer than that, alright...?
She coughs, but does her best to conceal it.
Ballo: I won't.
After regaining her composure, Clavia takes a deep breath and sits back down.
Clavia: So, tell me... What have you've been up to? You're without your mask, so I'm sure you ought to have at least one interesting story for me!
He sits down as well. After this exchange, the weight on Clavia's chest seemed to lighten up considerably. They took some time to catch up, before tackling the main reason for his visit.
Ballo: ... Which brings me here. I'm going to need some armaments.
She takes a couple of seconds to process all he had just told her.
Clavia: You and your crazy adventures! You're getting way too old for that, don't you think...?
Ballo smiles.
Clavia: And then I'm the stubborn one...
He doesn't say anything else. Clavia shakes her head.
Clavia: ... And what kind of armaments are we talking about, exactly?
Ballo: Five full sets of armor: three of them leather, two of them steel.
Clavia furrows her brow.
Ballo: ... Five weapons, namely: two swords, two warhammers and one mace...
Clavia was about to say something, but she stops herself upon realising he wasn't done yet.
Ballo: ... And lastly, some of those smoke and fire throwables you two have been working on! The spherical ones that explode upon impact. Seven of each should do. Also, I'll purchase whatever bits of armor or leftover weapons you may have around the workshop.
Clavia: Ballo...!
Ballo: Oh, one more thing... I need them delivered to this specific address.
He hands her a piece of parchment.
Ballo: By... Tomorrow.
Clavia: TOMORROW?! Are you mad...?!
Ballo: I do apologize, I realize this is a lot to ask for in such short notice... I'll pay whatever you need to get it done!
Clavia: It's not about the money...! There's just not enough machines around here to do all of that by tomorrow. I'm sorry, Ballo.
Ballo: Then... What about after tomorrow?
Clavia stops to think for a while.
Clavia: ... Still, it will be very difficult. Can they be delivered after noon?
Ballo: It's best if they are delivered before noon, actually.
Clavia looks down at the floor.
Clavia: You really aren't making this easy...
She sighs.
Clavia: ... But I do owe you. Alright, fine! Rota and I will get it done. But it will cost you -- dearly!
Ballo: Whatever the price, I'll gladly pay it!
Clavia extends her hand for a handshake.
Clavia: Good! Let's talk numbers then...
Ballo's chin drops to his feet after realizing how much it would cost him. Still, he pays for it without hesitation. Such was the price to pay for helping the cursed boy...