A small girl, barley visible near the centre crowds of most of the workers, fuelled the heart of the industrious machine Addy displayed. A canister contained tar like sedmiment that swirled in a solution that was clear and opaque near her side. The little girl fed the great centrifuge, syphoning the liquid by hand directly into the juggling cogs that whizzed like bladesaws. 

"What is that little girl doing out there?" demanded Gerard. "Surely you have someone more suited for such a dangerous task." 

A flicker crossed Addy's face turning his brow to furrow. Damien placed his hand on Gerard's shoulder giving a stern stare. The jester turned looking onto the wonderous machine he had built.

"It's such a complex thing, crafted with such pristine engineering that I'd never question my architect's decision on details," quipped Addy. "If a particular part requires particular specifications, I find the hands that'll make that part sing."

Damien's face was stern as Addy's crept into a wicked smile. The jester parrading as a king carried himself as if all of civilization should bow down to him and thank him for his esteemed presence. Gerard fumed underneath the formalities, his eyes constantly switching between her and Addy. 

Damien reeled Gerard to his side almost hugging him. Even at his age, the older architect had a strength that seldom waned over the years of hard work with his hands. He pushed back. Damien could feel the shudders passing through his tensing muscles. 

"We're not here to fight right now," whispered Damien out of the corner of his mouth. "We are severely outnumbered and in the den of a lunatic." The shadowed figures seeped close behind them as they watched Addy marveling at his own creations. 

"So, what does my esteemed guest think?" asked Price. 

"I see no weapons, no growth of prosperity for all if you claim to fuel a revolution," spat Gerard. "I see indentured servants waiving to the whims of a madman."

Addy laughed to Damien's surprise before a gasp could even set in. A pause settled, building a tense air in the brittle casm that seperated Addy from the other two. Damien's hair stood on end, his eyes roved to the corners of their sockets, trying to hold back the urge to fight the figures behind. He could smell blood in the air, waiting for a command to be called for a feast. 

"I am a lunatic, I'll give you that," smiled Addy. "My manners have left me, I indeed haven't shown you the weapons. Consider this the amuse bouche, if you will. Please, follow me."

His cloak swirled down the spiral staircase in his wake like a serpent enticing them onward. The shadowed figures inched closer making it known that no other choice could be made. Damien led Gerard, gripping onto his arm more so for the older man's sake. The stairs gave off a surreal chime as their shoes stamped down them that mixed amongst the music of human powered machines.

Price walked on the workroom floor swaying between workers. Most of their face were tarnished by flame and soot, so wrinkled that even the children looked ancient. Hardwork and sweat replacing a youth that could never be regained. Most did not mind nor pay attention to this lunatic prancing about their work. Their focus was chained to the hot pots of liquid metals boiling away impurities in mixed ores. These various pots all funneled into a great tube that ran underneath them, cooled by a faint steam that smelled of burnt copper. The ones that did mind mostly focused on Damien and Gerard. The discomfort, the shame and the anger mixed into a stain that besmudged the humanity from their souls. Damien wore his concern like a cowl trying to hide from their venomous gazes. 

"This is what I call the cog-room," detailed Addy. "Quite fitting, I'm sure you can tell. This is what powers my work here, oh great Van Kirk. Is it to your liking? Of course it is."

"Pompous miscreant," hissed Gerard. If Addy heard, he didn't show it. Here he was all that ever was. The last straw, the ultimate beginning. The further they moved into the bowels of Addy's kingdom, they more they understood that his reign was absolute. Some of the figures behind had trailed off, keeping uncomfortably close surveillance of the workers who had held that anger on their face only for moments.

Another doorway, stretching high above them, constructed of a sturdy iron opened to Addy. This place was a maze and Damien was running his head working to remember where they were. Cardinal directions held no meaning in this place or they had been forbidden. 

"This is where the magic happens," grinned Addy. "This is what feeds our revolution."

Revolvers laced with metallic cartridges layed upon a near endless belt that displayed hundreds of fabrications and iterations. Each was distinct and Damien covered the holster of his revolver in a subtle sweep. Rifles were patched together on a perpendicular conveyor that ran above their heads. Hundreds of mechanical hands wove each weapon together from a near endless supply of unique pieces. Damien's eye caught crates of spherical bombs to his left, small enough to fit into the palm of a child.

"They say that the Empires that have ruled this land for hundreds of years are the ones with the true power," spat Addy. "So, I asked myself: What if we had better weapons than them?" 

He picked up one of the revolvers, waiving the end around like a wand as he grabbed one of the bombs in his other hand. The sphere danced into the air above his head, then landed pristinely on the tip of the revolver's barrel. 

"Let me show you something," grinned Addy. He hucked the bomb in an instant past Damien's head. The sphere whizzed by, yet not sound could be heard. One of the shadowed figures behind them fell to the ground after a sickening crack painted the floor red. The trigger of the revolver hissed a bullet straight into the bomb and Damien gasped, shoving Gerard down to protect him with his body. A ripple of sound pounded outwards then sucked back into a screaming vacuum.

Debris lingered on the ground smoking like super heated coales ripe with blisters. The shadowed figures once behind them were gone and Addy laughed, setting the revolver back on the expansive bench. 

"You see, when you have guns like these, you don't need monarchs," he concluded. "And these are just the beginning. Your little watch isn't so special."