The funeral left a bad taste in John’s mouth. Part of that was from being forced into going in the first place. He didn’t feel bad about putting those men down, nor did he care about their families. If they didn’t want to die, they should have walked away when he gave them a choice.

The other part of the funeral that irked him was the fact it reminded him of all the backstabbing and political maneuvering back in the old country. Considering Pappy’s age, maybe some of the other families within the Klein lineage were trying to take over. It wouldn’t be the first time he witnessed a change of power happen. There was always some young upstart that thought they could do it better than the standing rulers.

Honestly, the way that the Klein family acted was unsettling in a way he couldn’t put into words. John had met a few extended families over his life that reminded him of the Klein’s. Hell, all of the royal families were like that. Even the Novarez lineage wasn’t much better.

He decided to put the event behind him. There was nothing to be gained by dwelling on that nonsense. Hopefully, the boy trying to stab him was the last of it. Despite what people might think, John didn’t enjoy killing people. He just happened to run into the necessity far more often than most. Some people just couldn’t be reasoned with.

After grabbing a meal at the saloon, he headed toward the crazy old artificer’s shop. Hopefully, Travis would have learned something about the armor by this point.

Going by all the cussing he heard as he got closer, that probably wasn’t the case. John walked through the gate to see Travis trying to pry open a panel on the backside of one of the suits.

“Open up you steaming pile of horse shit!” The bar Travis was using slipped and the artificer was sent tumbling off to the side with a surprised squawk.

The older man angrily threw the bar at the suit lying on the ground next to him, eliciting a loud clang.

John cleared his throat to get the man’s attention. Travis turned toward him, his anger and annoyance melting away.

“Ah, Mr. Smith. Have you been here long enough to witness my little outburst?”

John nodded, seeing no reason to lie to the man.

“I see… How very embarrassing. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t like I was being very discreet about it.”

John walked over and offered his hand to the man. “What’s got you so riled up anyway?”

He aimed the metal rod he had been using at the armor. “I was trying to crack it open and see what made it run. But the damn thing is sealed tight.”

“Should you really be trying to pry it open? Didn’t you say you weren’t sure what it ran off of? It could be dangerous.” John stepped away from the armor. He had seen what happened when the steam escaped the suits, and he wanted nothing to do with that.

The artificer scoffed as he dusted himself off. “It runs off of steam, just like everything else. And it's out of water. Can’t make steam without water.” The man kicked the large tank on the back and it gave a hollow-sounding clang.

John decided to ignore the man’s overly precise terminology. There was no use arguing with someone who thought he knew it all. “That still doesn’t mean it’s safe.”

“No water, no heat. That’s about as safe as it’s gonna get. At the moment, this thing couldn’t harm you unless it fell on top of you. Or if you were a complete imbecile and tripped over it.”

John still didn’t approach. “What about the thing that was powering it?”

“I suspect whatever powered it broke when the water boiled away. But I still want to get inside to see. I was hoping to avoid cutting it apart and possibly damaging whatever that is. But it seems like the pieces of metal have fused together. I have no idea how that happened unless the metal got so hot it liquified.” The man gave an annoyed huff. “I really wish you could have taken me to them sooner. I might have been able to save at least one of these power sources if you had.”

“Perhaps if someone hadn’t left without me, that would have happened?” Travis ignored the accusation. It seemed like the man was trying to purposefully forget that incident. “What about the ones where I just took out the person inside?”

The grey-haired man shook his head, sending his unkempt mane swirling. “They boiled away their water tanks before we arrived, resulting in the same problem. I suspect these suits need a constant supply of water or they simply overheat. Whatever they are using to produce this heat, must be extraordinary.”

John sighed and snapped his fingers, “Give me the bar and I’ll try.” It wasn’t that he cared about this automaton, or the man having to cut it up to get in. What he cared about was information. And the more intact these things were, the more accurate the information would be. They needed all they could get to help them to deal with the suits.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He took the bar and walked over to the armor.

“Try to hit it here, here, and here,” Travis pointed to three spots on a metal plate.

John spotted a leather belt off to the side, he pulled it from the nail and wrapped it around his hand before setting the end of the bar inside his palm. Hopefully, the leather would dull the impact and prevent the bar from going through his hand.

He tapped the first spot with the length of metal before pulling back and striking the point as hard as he could. There was a groan of metal on metal and he grunted from the impact, but his blow had hit its mark. The bronze or brass had sheared away at the strike’s location.

With the first one done, he moved to the second and repeated the process. By the time he made it to the third, his hand was starting to throb from the repeated impacts. The second and third spots did not yield quite as easily as the first. But with the tenth and final blow, the plate was finally knocked loose.

Travis laughed in glee and shoved John out of the way before yanking the plate off and tossing it to the side. John sighed and looked over the man’s shoulder to see what all the fuss was about.

It looked like a small firebox, something you might see on a stove. But it was packed with something. “What is that?”

The artificer licked his finger and rubbed it against the substance inside before sticking it in his mouth and smacking his lips.

John looked at the man like he was crazy.

“Salt.”

“What?”

“It’s salt.”

“… Ok. Why would anyone use salt inside a firebox? Last I checked, salt didn’t burn.”

“Good question.” Travis pulled out a small glass bottle and some small metal tongs. He used the tongs to extract something from the salt. Whatever it was it made an audible clink as it hit the bottom of the glass bottle.

“What’s that?” John asked.

Travis shook the bottle before handing it to John. “No clue. I’ll need to do some experiments.”

John looked into the bottle. It was no wonder he had missed the item, it was caked in salt and had a pretty similar white coloration. It looked like a piece of crystal. But he had never seen anything like- No, he had seen similar crystals. They had been mining them in the valley. The only difference was that those crystals glowed with a soft light, whereas this one seemed completely drained of whatever allowed it to do that.

“I think this is what they were mining in that valley,” he said, handing the jar back to Travis.

“Hmm, I suppose that makes sense. Don’t suppose you have any? Otherwise, I doubt I’ll ever get these suits running.”

John had taken a sample of the crystal before caving in the mine. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with the stuff, but this seemed like a good use. He reached into a hidden pocket inside his coat and tossed a small leather satchel to the artificer.

“That’s all I have. And with the cave sealed, don’t expect any more.”

The man opened the bag and looked inside. “Strange, I don’t recognize this type of crystal. And why’s it glowing?” The man didn’t bother waiting for an answer to his question before continuing. “The amount you have is less than ideal. Although, it should be enough to figure out how they used it to power the suits. Don’t expect me to make the armor operational though. Not unless I attach a normal fire box to them or you can get me larger crystals. There is a little holder inside this box, but the samples you just provided me are too small to fit inside. I assume it was designed for a larger crystal of the same composition but I’ll find out soon enough.”

John chose not to comment on the crystal type. If the artificer didn’t know what soul stone was, he was better off not knowing. It was worrying finding it inside these suits of armor though. It meant these people weren’t just actively mining the crystal, they were also experimenting with them.

He knew the crystals were toxic to handle. The Harsich Accords wouldn’t have banned them otherwise. The fact that Jacob’s group had to know this, and was still experimenting with them made these people dangerous.

He was about to respond when their conversation was interrupted by the sound of bells. “What’s that all about?” he asked as he turned toward the noise.

The wrinkled artificer scrambled to his feet. “Warning bells. The town is under attack!” As John turned to see if the man was joking he saw Travis was already sprinting toward his shop. There was some banging around before the artificer wheeled something out. “Give me a hand,” the man grunted.

John rushed over and grabbed the end of the artillery piece. He couldn’t even begin to guess where Travis had gotten a piece of military equipment. They pulled the wheeled gun over to his auto cart and hooked it up.

“Hop on, unless you wanna walk!” The man didn’t even wait for John’s response before throwing the brake lever. The thing started trundling forward, slowly at first but soon picking up speed.

John jogged to catch up, before hopping aboard. It was likely he could outrun the machine for a bit, but once it got moving, he wouldn’t be able to keep up for long.

As soon as the cart was outside the compound, the man jerked the steering lever hard, making the contraption turn wildly to the right. The sudden movement almost tossed him off the bench, but John managed to grab ahold of the back and brace himself.

“A little warning next time,” he complained.

Travis didn’t respond. He was wholly focused on driving and adjusting levers. The thing shook for a moment before it belched a cloud of black smoke and surged forward, throwing him against the seat.

“Hold on!” Travis yelled after the fact.

John shook his head and double-checked his weapons. His rifle was back at the jail so he only had his revolvers. It would have to be enough.

As the pair rushed across the town, they passed people hurrying for shelter and others already barricading themselves inside. John hoped the new recruits, the Sheriff had chosen, were up to the task of defending the city.

When they got closer, he could hear the hiss of the pneuma rifles going off. It was almost drowned out by the sounds of screaming and the thunk-thunk as arrows impacted wood.

Speaking of arrows, John jerked Travis out of the way as one planted itself into the back of the bench, the red feathering shaking madly.

The man stared in shock at it before John’s yell shook him back to the present. “Watch out!”

Without even looking, Travis threw the brake lever forward and jerked the wheel. The cart pitched violently up on two wheels, just barely missing the arrow-riddled horse in the middle of the street.

It did not, however, miss the building they were heading toward. John grabbed Travis by the scruff of his shirt and yanked him off the cart moments before it slammed into the front of the building.

Using himself as a cushion, he took the impact of the fall before rolling. He released the artificer and used the momentum of the roll to regain his feet.

His gun was already in his hand and firing, there were no lack of targets.