After the defenders dispersed, Brin followed Kevim to try to get a word with him. He hung back while Kevim conferred with what was left of the town’s leadership, following along behind quietly. Kevim stayed between others the entire walk, though, then headed towards the Prefit’s house. The Prefit’s front room was a big conference room where the Council conducted their business. Apparently it was still in use even though the man himself was indisposed.
Brin called out before they went inside, “Kevim, sir, can I–?”
“Not now.” Kevim waved him off, and stepped inside. The leadership, Balbi included, followed him inside, but a firm glance at the head [Farmer] made it clear that Brin wasn’t welcome to follow.
Brin tried to listen outside the door to get an idea of what they were talking about, but the place must’ve been enchanted against eavesdroppers. He tried using [Call Sound through Glass] on the windows, not to make any particular sound, but more to see if he could figure out how to listen through the Skill, but the window flashed red. Some kind of magical protection? Brin took off before he could get in trouble.
Well, that was a bust, but the chances that Kevim would take him seriously even if he could get his attention were slim to none. Who would he listen to? A fellow [Hunter], maybe? Brin decided to track down Luiza, the [Gatherer] turned [Huntress].
After asking around, he found that she’d been positioned near the south gate. She was one of the [Hunters] who patrolled the walls, making sure that nothing climbed over, and taking notes of spots where the undead were trying to hack through. Pretty soon, the gate defense wouldn’t be the only battles of the day. The town would have to do the same thing to repair sections of the wall as the undead started to break through.
When he found her, she didn’t stop her quick pace, so he fell in beside her. “Hey, Luiza, how’s it going? How’s that new and improved [Trickshot] treating you?”
Actually, he could just [Inspect]. When he did, he realized that she’d already gone up to level 32 and gotten a new Skill, [Effortless Pull]. It decreased the magic costs of all her offensive bow Skills. Right now she only had one of those, but now she could use it much more often. The perfect choice for leveling during a siege.
“Never mind, looks like you’re doing great!” Brin said before she could answer.
“It’s weird, to level so fast after being stagnant for so long,” Luiza admitted. Her eyes never stopped scanning. Up and down the walls on one side, and then peering through the alleyways on the other. “Do you mind? I’m actually in the middle of a shift.”
“I don’t mind at all,” said Brin, pretending that he hadn’t noticed the dismissal. “I was wondering, does Kevim listen to you?”
“I guess he probably would if I had anything to say. He always has time for fellow [Hunters].”
“Could you talk to him for me? Before she ran away, Tawna came and talked to me. She said that we can win this, we just need to hold out for a little longer. She wanted me to make sure that Kevim knows that we shouldn’t surrender. Although, honestly I wonder why she didn’t talk to him herself.”
Luiza snorted. “Oh, I can answer that one. Kevim hates Tawna. Underhanded people like her drive him crazy. You probably didn’t know this, but when Tawna was on trial for what she did to you, Kevim was the one who tried to push for her to be executed.”
“Balbi is going to try to talk to him, too, but I don’t think he’ll listen to her.”
Luiza laughed, then remembered she was on patrol and moved her eyes twice as fast along the walls, as if some infiltrator was waiting for her momentary distraction. “You got that right. Nobody likes Balbi. She’s good with laundry, though. I accidentally left some sugar candy in a pocket in my blouse one time, but when I got them back from her it was totally fine. The shirt was clean, too.”
“So can you talk to him?” asked Brin.
“Sure. I bet I can convince him, as long as I don’t mention Tawna or Balbi or you.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“Uh… I really need to keep moving.” Luiza zipped forward, and Brin let her go. As long as she’d talk to Kevim, that would be enough.
He walked by Perris’ shop next, but found the door locked. He heard banging coming from inside, so he peered in the window. Perris was at his counter, but he’d set it up as a work table. He was striking a pile of leather with a wooden mallet. The leather didn’t look the right shape for a person. Brin had to watch for a few minutes before he understood. It was the right shape for a bull, or a dog. Poco, Ferir and Lup were some of their strongest fighters now, but they needed armor, and Perris was the best person to make it, especially now that the town didn’t have a [Smith]. Ademir might be able to help with armor, but something told Brin that Ademir was already busy.
He went to Ademir’s shop next. The door was locked there, too, but when he knocked and called out, Ademir opened the door for him.
Ademsi 2000 lay sprawled out on a table. He was riddled with scars. The wood was splintered in places, and the perfect artwork of his massive frame had been vandalized with rents and gashed. He’d seemed so indomitable during the battle that it was hard for Brin to believe what he was seeing. If Ademsi were a person, he might already be dead. No, he would be dead, judging by the deep gash in the back of his head.
“H-how are you feeling Ademsi 2000?” he asked.
“I feel grand,” the wooden man said with a smile. “Today was a triumph!”
Ademir scowled. “You could’ve died.”
“I saw no foes there that could truly test me. I stalked through them like a wolf among sheep, and there were none to interfere,” said Ademsi. Brin couldn’t help but smile at the matter-of-fact tone. Ademsi wasn’t intentionally bragging, he was stating the absolute truth.
“How are the repairs coming?”
Ademir set down a chisel and hammer he’d been working with and sighed. “He’s in no condition to be walking around like this, and I don’t think I’ll have him ready to go by morning, not at this rate. It would be one thing if I could have a [Woodsman] regrow his broken pieces, the way you would if you needed to fix a fence, but there’s no one I trust enough to bring in just yet. Carving out new pieces to replace them would take too long, especially if I want to do them up special and strong like the ones he has now. Patching them is an option, but my levels in [Tinker] just aren’t enough to do this as fast as I’d like. I might have to use cement or glue at this point, but those come with their own problems.”
“What about glass?” asked Brin.
“I got some cooking just in case I decide to go that way, but it’ll burn him when I apply it. I could make the pieces ahead of time and then cool them down, but that’ll take too long.”
“Let me try.”
Ademir nodded slowly, and Brin noticed the dark bags under Ademir’s eyes. He must’ve been pulling late nights lately.
Brin scooped up some of the glass he’d been working with. Broken bottles, odd shapes, failed experiments and the like. He brought it over to Ademsi and began to work.
He didn’t overload [Shape Glass] this time like he had on the battlefield. That was fine for emergencies, but if he went slower it saved a lot of mana. He used a chip from a broken bottle, and lay it over one of the smaller cuts on Ademsi’s arm.
Slowly, gently, he pushed mana into the glass, willing it to melt. Without growing any hotter, it started to trickle down into the cut, filling it up. Then he separated it along the surface and pulled off the excess. Running a finger along Ademsi’s arm, it felt perfectly smooth.
The whole process had taken about five minutes, but barely used any mana at all. This could work. He could use glass to bind the splintered and severed wood in place, without removing the magic of any enchantments that Ademir had put in place.
When he was done, Ademir had Ademsi stand up and flex the broken arm. The glass held, regardless of how quickly Ademsi twisted and turned. It looked kind of neat, somehow giving a small degree of realism to the overly-perfect puppet man.
Brin went to the biggest injury next, the one on the back of the head. Ademir helped by squeezing Ademsi’s head so that there was only a tiny line for Brin to pour his glass into. Slowly but surely, Brin moved his glass to fill it in and bind it together. When he was done, Ademir was reluctant to move his hands away, not really believing it was really stuck, but Brin’s glass wasn’t like glue. When he stopped putting his magic into it, it was done moving.
He went from injury to injury, filling them in with glass. The only ones he didn’t get were the ones along the joints, or those touching the internal clockwork. One hammer blow to the elbow had broken it straight open, revealing an intensely complex array of gears and mechanical joints. Brin shuddered at the sheer genius it would take to create an entire person out of machinery like that.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
He’d sort of had the idea that Ademsi’s movement and fluidity could all be explained by the magic from the familiar bond, but obviously there was more to it. If he had to guess, the puppet would’ve been able to move just as well without it. All Ademir had been missing was the sentience to direct it.
Alert! [Shape Glass] leveled up! 20 -> 21