Technomagica 2 : 47 Preparations (Patreon)

I woke up to the gentle rays of the morning sun filtering through the window.

Turning my head, I saw Kliss, still peacefully asleep. Her gemstone mane cascaded over the pillow, shimmering in the early light with yellow, violet and red reflections, casting a thousand flickering rainbows across the sheets. 

As if sensing my gaze, her eyes fluttered open and met mine with a smile. Our conversation with the Astral Virus didn’t seem to dampen her draconic spirit in the slightest.

“Mornin’ Slava,” she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep.

“Morning, Kliss,” I replied.

“Blah, too early,” Delta groaned from the other side of the bed. “Waaaaa... I don’t approve of mornings. Slava can you unexist mornings with fractal math?”

Kliss and I exchanged amused noises before getting up to start our day.

“No wait, just unexist my tiredness with coffee, ughhh,” Delta yawned, slowly rolling out of bed. “I gotta make a soul-golem to fetch me coffee to bed, this dark age existence is terrible.”

“Is this how the Inian necromancers start their day?” Kliss snickered. 

“The correct term is Animancers, Miss Dragontater,” Delta huffed. “Damn descendants have no respect for the Golemancy research, I swear! Next thing I know you’ll be whining on the Astral-cast that golems are taking all the creative jobs.”

“You’d think that golems would take over high-intensity labour work first, like planting trees or washing dishes,” I commented.

“Nah,” Delta yawned. “Golems took all the art jobs first, on the account that art doesn’t require as much moving around. Joint coordination took forever to resolve in spider-type bodies. We solved art first.”

“How did Alanian golems make art exactly?” I asked.

“Music was easy,” Delta replied. “It just required a bunch of strings vibrating in right frequencies. As for art, the golems formed pictures using colorful sand!”

“Sand?” Kliss asked.

“Yeah, you basically start with randomly arranged sand,” Delta nodded. “When specific sand particles are heated, they change color. This way a golem could make a painting using a focused heat-song in about seventy seven seconds and then suspend the result with the suspension spell which binds the sand particles to each other.”

“And were these golem-produced sand pictures better than ones drawn by people?” I asked. “Where did the Alanian golems get the talent from to color the sand in just the right way to look visually appealing?”

“Eh,” Delta waved a hand. “The information was pulled directly from the Astral Ocean, from the collective graveyard of human creativity. I liked them, even if sometimes they had funny eyes or too many fingers due to info-decay. The Seditionists called them soulless though. Which was quite frankly utterly ridiculous since the golems were literally controlled by human souls of their makers…”

She stumbled into the bathroom, whining about lack of servitor golem there to wash her back.

“She’s remembering more,” Kliss commented. “Becoming more like Kopusha? Same with me and Aradria, I guess?”

“Leemy is definitely helping her remember the things she forgot,” I nodded. “When we get back from our trip I reckon I’ll begin to figure out Golemancy with her.”

“Sounds good,” Kliss nodded.

. . .

After a hearty breakfast, our trio headed to the village blacksmith.

Delta had donned her "Archmage-Bishop" persona, inhabiting the ant-mech. As we approached the workshop, the rhythmic clanging of hammers on anvils grew louder.

The blacksmith, Aaron Gomff, was a burly man with arms like tree trunks, bald head and a lush black beard. He was the town’s only blacksmith and therefore the head of the Blacksmithing Guild. Two of his teenage sons were assisting him in his workshop. Aaron and his sons looked up at us from the forge as we entered their domain.

“Good morning, your excellency!” He said with a reverent bow upon noticing the Bishop.

The trio of blacksmiths were wearing the Vow-disrupting necklaces we had given out earlier, the gems glinting in the morning light as they emerged to greet us.

“Morning Aaron! We’d like to use your forge for the day,” Delta said.

The blacksmith wiped his brow, leaving a smudge of soot. “Use my forge? What for?”

“Making me and my apprentice new armor,” Delta said, waving a hand at Kliss who was carrying a pair of massive blood-iron doors behind us on her back with ridiculous ease.

“Do you require assistance from me or my sons?” Aaron asked. “Handling metal is our family’s specialty.”

“Can you handle blood-iron?” Delta made the ant-mech arch an eyebrow.

“Uhh, I… am uncertain,” the blacksmith said. “I've never heard of such a material. Will working with such metal contaminate my forge in some manner?”

“It will not,” Delta replied. "But in case that it does..."

She produced a small pouch that clinked with the unmistakable sound of gold coins. “I am prepared to compensate you generously for the inconvenience. This should be enough to fund building two new forges!” she added. 

The money came from the hoard of Kliss and our dragoness didn’t mind giving it up on the account that the gold would never leave town. We had worked out a system in which we would keep all gold inside Skyisle, trading it for silver at a good rate whenever people needed to pay for skyship-delivered goods that came once a month from Agamemnon.

At the sight of the gold, the blacksmith’s reservations seemed to evaporate. He nodded, accepting the pouch and counting the coins with a wide smile.

“Aaron,” Delta said, “would you and your sons be willing to accept Ishira’s blessing as my knights? It would greatly aid us all in our work today.”

“Uh, sure?” The blacksmith looked uncertain for a moment. “Uh, what does the blessing involve exactly, excellency?”

“Oh, not much,” Delta said. “My apprentice will put you three to sleep for five minutes. You'll have a nice dream and when you wake up you’ll see a new stat in your Soul-Song, tagging you as the ‘Radiant Knights of Skyisle’!

The blacksmiths nodded their agreement, albeit with some hesitation from the youngest son.

“Then lay yourselves on the ground, close your eyes and let us pray to the All-Seeing Goddess of Love and Beauty together!” Delta declared. Waving her blood-iron scepter she began singing Ishira’s Hymn. We had extracted the words from Magenta for our pretend-Bishop to sound more authentic.

The blacksmiths closed their eyes, their voices joining that of the fake Bishop. I pointed my armacus at their heads one by one, sending them to sleep.

Kliss stepped forward, her eyes shimmering with orange coronas. She gently took each of their hands in turn, biting them softly. I could see the microscopic crystalline patterns forming in their chests from the connection as they became her Kobolds. As they did, I readjusted the System tags to display [The Radiant Knight of Skyisle] stat.

“Now let’s claim their souls,” I said.

Kliss nodded and grabbed my hand. I focused and laid on the grass with Kliss pulling the trio of blacksmiths and her into the NeuroVista Lucid Dream. Within the dreamworld, I modified our appearance, while placing us and the trio of blacksmiths into the Moscow Cathedral of the Dormition.

Massive candelabras filled with flickering candles cast uneven light upon the tall columns decorated with Orthodox Saints. Pale blue light shined through the thin stained glass slits on the black stone floors.

“W-what is this wondrous place?” Aaron asked as he stared at the opulent interior of the cathedral which had served as the Coronation Room of the Russian monarch for hundreds of years.

“I don’t know, father,” his eldest replied, his brown eyes wide in wonder.

The youngest son simply stared up at the round dome covered in gold, medieval frescoes of bearded men, Christ and the angels.

“Behold! The throne of Ishira’s angels!” I declared jubilantly from the gold-plated iconostasis stairs, manifesting a bunch of indeterminate figures wreathed in colorful flames behind me. 

I didn’t have to make much stuff up for this vision.

I simply made the angels behind me sing an Orthodox chorus - 'We bow down before Thy Cross'.

The chorus began to cascade around the cathedral, filling it with an otherworldly aura of deep, bone-chilling hums that I had recalled from my time in the Cathedral of the Dormition as a young boy. I remembered this chorus quite well, as my mother brought me to this very cathedral in 1941. Back then, the Germans began their relentless advance against our homeland and our otherwise openly-atheist government decided that the Soviet people needed spiritual motivation to win the all-out war.

As the lamentation of the Orthodox chorus rose and fell, Kliss and I descended from the red-carpeted stairs, looking down at each of the men in front of me. The blacksmiths fell onto their knees in reverence, looking at us with wide eyes, enraptured by the utterly alien view and music.

Within this dream-scene, I was looking like my thirty-year-old self and wearing the outfit of the Russian boyar/thief George Miloslavsky in the 1973 film Ivan Vasilievich: Back to the Future. It was an amusing reference that nobody except for me and maybe Delta would find entertaining.

Kliss on the other hand, had most of her features blurred and was wreathed with brilliant fire, radiant red and gold flames extending outwards to resemble brilliant wings.

“Aaron Gomff Skyisle, Leoc Gomff Skyisle, Hoic Gomff Skyisle! Offer your hands to Ishira's angel so that she may kiss it and bless you forevermore!” I declared, pulling Kliss in front of me.

The blacksmiths looked utterly ecstatic now, completely captivated by the ritual. Kliss grabbed each of their trembling hands, claiming their souls for her hoard to entangle her dragon-heart with their skills.

“Rejoice! You are now tagged by our Lady’s radiance!” I announced when she was finished. “Awake and go onto the world and do good deeds in Ishira’s name! Serve our Earthly Bishop well and protect her from harm for she and you are now Skyisle's blessed light of hope amidst darkness and sin!”

With a flash the Cathedral of the Dormition around us was gone and we were back in front of the Gomff workshop. I cast the awakening spell from my armacus and after a few minutes, the blacksmiths began to stir. Aaron was the first to open his eyes, blinking in confusion.

“How do you feel?” Delta asked, helping him rise from the ground.

"I... I had the strangest, most beautiful dream! I think that we somehow went to Arxtruria, my Bishop," he muttered, rubbing his head. “Two of Ishira’s angels had blessed me... blessed us!”

“Yes! I saw an incredible golden church, the Throne of Ishira! It was like nothing I've seen or heard before!” Leoc and Hoic shouted over each other, recounting the details over their wildly alien experience.

“Feel free to tell the others of the wonders of this ritual,” Delta smiled. “I shall grant this blessing before the end of this week to as many citizens of Skyisle as I am able!”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Aaron bowed, his eyes filling with tears. “You have brought true wonders to Skyisle, blessed us all! My wife and I feared the day in which my boys would have to leave our humble home or suffer as their levels and skills decay away to naught. Thank you for saving us from the dark days!”

“There is still so much more to do, my goodman,” Delta nodded. “Be strong for me. We must fortify Skyisle, craft and bless so many more things, for the great deceiver Giovashi might return to take away your skills once again and threaten the prosperity of this land.”

“I’ll stand by you my Bishop,” Aaron said, putting a hand onto his heart with a look of utter devotion. “We all will! I swear it!”

“We are with you, our Lady!” His sons declared.

“A time might come soon to prove your devotion yet, my children,” Delta nodded.

. . .

I watched as Kliss effortlessly bent and tore the blood-iron, her draconic strength allowing her to take apart the otherwise insanely tough cursed metal with ease. The blacksmith and his sons stood by, their jaws occasionally slack with amazement as they provided instructions on proper forging techniques.

“You’ll want to heat it until it’s cherry red,” Aaron advised, keeping a safe distance from the blood-iron. “Then you gotta strike it firmly and consistently.”

Kliss nodded, her hands sparking with dragonfire as she gripped the metal.

She didn’t even flinch as she handled the red-hot iron bare-handed within the forge, magnifying the flames with dragonfire so that blood iron would melt into slugs.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Leoc asked, his eyes wide.

“Nah,” Kliss grinned. “I’m fireproof.”

Kobold dragonflies flitted about the air above us, keeping clear of the heat and providing her extra perception.

“Truly the way you move is befitting that of a skilled smith like myself!” Aaron commented. “It is as if you are a daughter I’ve never had, Lady Eliza.”

“Oh yes,” Delta said. “Elly is my moooost talented apprentice.”

[Freaking dragon innately harvesting blacksmithing skills,] she huffed mentally at me.

[Told you she could grab people’s skills through their souls,] I shot back smugly.

[But that’s like… mega cheating! Ultimate cheating!] Delta complained. 

[What? Grabbing the skills of the dead painters from the Astral Ocean isn’t cheating?] I replied with a smile. [Making sand-art with golems isn’t cheating?]

[That’s not the same at all,] Delta huffed. [Making fully functional golems takes an ungodly amount of work and they’re super limited in general capability to only specific tasks. Are you telling me that before this week ends she’ll have the skills of 1500 people? With no freaking downsides?]

[Eh, there’s probably some downsides,] I shrugged, watching as Kliss handled the metal. [The skill use is innate quantum entanglement, she has no idea what she’s doing while she does it. As you can see, she does make occasional mistakes and the blacksmith has to correct her. Plus, we can’t mass produce Kliss... unlike golems.]

[We can’t mass produce golems, you dolt,] Delta sighed. [We don’t have the capabilities of the Tricameron Arcanarium.]

[We don’t have it… yet, sis,] I replied. [We’ll get there eventually. One step at a time.]

[I suppose we will,] Delta conceded. [I’m just a leeeeetle nervous about protecting Skyisle without our dragon girl’s seemingly all-capable, Charisma-immune might. If Giovashi can see the future, won’t this be the most opportune moment for her to strike while the two of you are gone?]

[I’m aware,] I replied. [I do have a plan, don’t worry.]

Walking over to Aaron, I cleared my throat to get his attention.

“Aaron, I was wondering if you could help us with another special project after we finish making the armor sets,” I began.

The blacksmith turned to me. “Of course, young Dante. What did you have in mind?”

I gestured with my hands as I spoke, trying to describe the shape I envisioned. “I need a long, hollow iron tube forged from the second blood iron door. About this wide,” I indicated with my fingers, “and about this long,” I stretched out my arms.

Aaron’s eyebrows rose. “That’s quite a specific request. What’s it for?”