Solomon spent long hours studying the books on golemcraft- the ones he’d retrieved from the ruins of the Goblin Empire under New Samara, and the ones he’d borrowed from Carla Montegarde, the Royal Historian under High King Steeltower. There were a great many similarities- apparently golemcraft was golemcraft, no matter where or when- but there were also a few differences that made progress frustratingly slow.

He’d heard that there were rare magical books that provided step-by-step instructions and incantations that would allow someone to manufacture golems easily, but he had no idea where they could be found, and the people that he’d talked to had been vague and unhelpful.

So, experiments.

He decided to start with clay, since it was cheap and easy to work with, and the tools for working with clay were likewise cheap. He took his time and worked the clay, carving it down into a life-size replica of eight-year-old Bess, the youngest tiefling in the Rooftop Gang.

“No, that’s not right. She should be nine now.” He muttered. He wasn’t sure, because none of them knew each other’s birthdays, and further, none of them seemed to particularly care.

Why are you looking after tieflings?

He knew that voice. Because if I didn’t, who would? He replied, adding details to the statue.

They are not like us. You are not like them.

That’s true. But I can remember kindness. I can teach them kindness.

There was an exasperated sigh. Or maybe he imagined it. His celestial ancestry demanded that he stand against the tiefling’s devilish ancestry. The two were incompatible.

He didn’t care. They were kids. Kids in need of leadership. Kids in need of a family. His own family- where were they?

He didn’t have the spellbooks necessary to animate a golem, so he carved the symbols he’d seen carved in the other golems he’d seen, and hoped and prayed that it would work.

“Hey Boss, is that Bess?” Ayya asked curiously. She was a lot more comfortable around him since their time on the beach, so long ago.

Back then, all the older tiefling girls thought that he’d force them into prostitution, or use them for his own desires. After they had come to realize that he didn’t plan for either of those things to happen, he was simply ‘The Boss’, and they were able to trust him a lot easier.

“Yeah.” He replied, inscribing spell circles with the carving tools he’d purchased. “I’m trying to make a golem,” he explained, “but I’m not sure if it will even work. I figured I should try something small and-” he was going to say ‘simple’, but decided Ayya would think he was indirectly calling Bess simple, and he didn’t want that. “-and cute.” He finished instead.

“What’s a golem?” She asked, coming over.

“It’s like a doll, but it moves around with the power of magic.” He explained. Her eyes lit up at that.

“Can I learn magic?” She asked eagerly.

“I don’t see why not.” He replied indifferently as he worked. “There are all sorts of types of magic, and all sorts of types of people that use magic.” He explained. “For me,” He paused, and looked around to see if there were any of the other tieflings about.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“You remember that time on the beach, right? When I fixed your horn.” He asked in a low voice, and her face grew troubled.

“I remember.” She confirmed. Those with celestial heritage and those with infernal heritage didn’t much like each other.

“I can cast a little magic because of my celestial patron. I made a pact with him. That’s Pact Magic. It’s like Draluth, but without a creepy vampire guy.” Ayya giggled at that.

“Timber can cast magic because he’s got ties to nature.” He continued, rolling his eyes at that. “I still don’t completely understand that.” He complained. “Who needs nature when everything is right there, in the city?” He asked, and she nodded.

“There are people that can learn to cast the magic that’s in their souls. I hear that’s sorcery. There are people that can cast magic that’s been written down in books and scrolls. That’s wizardry. There are people that can cast magic that their gods give them. That’s the work of clerics.” He paused for a moment. “I don’t really trust clerics, you know? There were some in the Elendel Sprawl that were...” He paused for a moment, shrugged, and continued. “Opportunistic scum.”

He grinned. “I get other magic from playing music. For being as stylish and dramatic and-” He paused. How should he describe it? “-from following the Path of the Bard.” He finished. “There’s probably other ways, other forms of magic. If you want to learn magic, think very carefully about what you want to do, how you want to do it, and then let me know- I’ll do my best to help, since I’m not just ‘Boss Solomon’, I’m also ‘Baron Solomon’.”

She frowned in concentration at that. “Should we call you ‘baron’?” She asked.

He burst into laughter at that. “Fuck no!” He blurted. “I’m happy enough to be ‘Boss Solomon’ for all of you, for as long as you need me to be.”

“For as long as we need you to be?” She repeated.

He raised an eyebrow as he knelt and began working on the golem’s legs.

“I’ve never ordered any of you to do anything, you know. I’ve always asked.” He replied. “You- all of you- have the freedom to say no to me. If you no longer need me to be a ‘Boss’, then that’s okay, too.”

Ayya threw her arms around Solomon. “You’ll always be ‘Boss’, Boss.”

He laughed and patted her. “Why don’t you go get Bess?” He asked. “I think I’m about ready.”

Bess showed up shortly, unselfconsciously picking her nose and wiping it on her clothes.

“What is it, Boss? I was planting.” She asked.

Solomon gestured at the golem he was finishing. “What do you think?” He asked.

She grimaced a little. “It looks creepy, Boss. I don’t like how it looks like me.”

“Awww, I thought it looks cute, like you.” He replied.

She shook her head. “That ain’t cute.” She complained. “It’s creepy.”

He laughed again, and added a row of magical symbols down each leg that should, in theory, allow it to walk.

He raised his hands and poured his magic into the clay statue.

The clay doll shuddered and spasmed, arms jittering, body shaking, legs trembling.

“Golem:” He addressed the clay doll, and pointed at Bess. “Follow her around.”

The golem’s head turned towards Bess, who flinched backwards. It took an unsteady step forward, and then another. It lurched towards Bess, who flared her wings wide, turned, and ran out of Solomon’s workshop with a terrified shriek.

The golem stumbled after her, lurching and wobbling with each step. Solomon kept pace with it as it struggled to follow after the young girl, who ran with all her might out of the workshop and across the expanse of fields that he’d set up in his little barony.

“Leave me aloooone!” Bess shrieked as it chased after her. Suddenly, one of its legs broke off and it hit the ground on its face. It tried to push itself to its feet, but its arms snapped off, and then it quivered, face down in the dirt, until it finally crumbled away to lumps of clay.

Solomon sat down in the dirt next to it, exhausted. “I think that used up all my magic.” He gasped. “All of it. Every drop.” He shook his head, trying to clear his head. “That didn’t work at all.”

He let himself fall down and he stared up at the sky. “If I’m gonna do this, I’m really going to need one of those golem manuals.”