.^^ new Construct ^^

— Dashiva —

I froze, when the boy sat in the Matriarch's favorite chair, but then paused for an entirely new reason... because of exactly how casually he had sat down, holding the glass of wine in his left hand, primly situated between the first two fingers of his hand. His legs crossed at the ankles, his back was straight, yet he gave off a picture of noble relaxation.

Then we all looked at the painting of the Tyrant's elven wife, the painting ripped, but kept because of the beauty of the woman it depicted. He showed the first signs of confusion, and shock, and I noticed the similarities. If it wasn't for his round, human ears, I would have taken him for her dread husband/cousin, the Tyrant Himself.

He cleared his throat, and looked into the fire again, relaxing once more as he sipped the fine vintage. "Yes... very familiar... I wonder, is this wine pressed from berries found in the forests of Ulfavir?" He asked, not looking away from the fire.

"It is, Yes." I answered, and watched the Matriarch look from the painting, to him, and back, then to me. She narrowed her eyes slowly, and I shrugged, with no more answers than her, at the moment.

She casually directed my husband and her two other sons to keep him company in the other chairs, then pulled me out of the room with a gentle-looking, but iron-like grip.

"Why and how have you brought the Tyrant's spawn into my home?" She asked directly, skipping the nonsense, a new thing for her.

"He's human, it's not his fault he's albino-"

"I don't care about the coloration of his skin or his pale hair, no; I see the posture of his back, the way he holds himself! How, even in furred rags, he reeks of nobility and arrogance! Where did you find him?" She snapped.

"Ulfavir, the Deeps. He was born there, he thinks. Lived at the Temple we were sent to explore, inside a Construct of his own creation. He's a human, anyway, so he can't be related to the Tyrant! You're overreacting! So what if he's a natural Noble? He's probably a bastard of some other noble line!" I growled back.

"What Noble line do you know of, other than the Faequell's, that has white hair, mechanical magic, and blue eyes?" She hissed.

I paused, thinking hard. "I... maybe some eastern or southern Clan?"

"No! Only the Faequell's! I am a genealogist, I keep the family records of every clan outside of the Deep! I know the name of every child born, of every noble line, and the name Rune is not amongst them! But the features match!" She started pacing.

"Well so what? He's literally no one, a gifted craftsman who sells his work for trade, he's not a King, even if his parents were! He holds knowledge of the Ancient Dwarves, and it's filled with things that re-write the history of the Dwarves! A new Hall of Stories, with four extra panes? Honestly! And who knows what happened to the other eight!! He could have memorized them and broken them, for all we know! He could be the only one who's ever read them!" I snapped back at her.

"And so what? Some dwarf knowledge? That's all?" She scoffed.

"And the fact that I won't even entertain the idea of harming a child, based on their father's sins! Or have you forgotten the mercy the Tyrant showed you in your time of need?" I dug deep into the wound I knew still bled for her, shamelessly.

She flinched, and shook her head. "No... I haven't. But that debt ended when he died, and I won't have a resurgence of his bloodline. They are strong, yes, but they are also cunning, and they take to ruling like fish to water. Mark my word, if you give him a position of authority, you will see just what type of person he really is."

I frowned, a sudden thought occurring. "You don't want him to claim his inheritance."

She tsk'ed. "Oh of course not! This estate, the money we got from Him, and the Fish-hatchery are all wonderful, but it's less that I don't want to give them away, than I don't want to give them to him!"

I scoffed. "A petty, flimsy, parchment-thin excuse! You've only just met the boy, and you've already made a snap judgment, and decided to sabotage him! Honestly, you don't deserve to call yourself a mother. He's been raised by an emotionless Construct, never had any parents, taught himself his own form of magic, and taught himself how to make wonderful creations! Have I shown you the Bow I got from him? He's amazing!"

I drew the bow before she could answer, and her eyes grew wide at the flaming, spectral arrow that blazed to life. I gently lowered the bow, letting the arrow dissipate, and then frowned at her again.

"Now, I won't hear any more on this subject, not even from my Matriarch! His inheritance is his by law, IF he's actually a Faequell! If he isn't, this entire argument was over your paranoia!" I snapped, and walked away. I composed myself, before reentering the dining room, and finding them all around the fire, suspiciously looking into their wine glasses.

"Well, we've reached a decision, Rune, you may stay with my Apprentice for the night, and we'll have more appropriate rooms ready in the morning!" I smiled warmly.

He shook his head. "That's alright. I'll sleep in my workshop. I want to start on that Flyer in the morning, actually. When is the first day of term, for that College?"

"Term? Well, you're to be assigned a Master, of the same Art as yours, and apprentice with them until they decide you are properly taught. There's no set time limit, really." I hummed.

He smiled. "So there's other TinkerToy Mages here? That is what you called me, right? I like it. Sounds festive!" He laughed, and it was an innocent laugh, full of amusement and joy.

The Matriarch paused in the Hall, hearing it, and glanced at me. "Fine... we'll see how it works out." She conceded, and walked away.

—

I groaned, rubbing my eyes. "What, Yalja?" I grumbled at my husband.

"Your sister is asking for you." He sighed, rubbing his cheeks tiredly, and holding a sheet around himself like a robe.

"Uuuugh... which one?" I covered my head.

"This one." The bane of my existence dropped my boots on my chest. "I need you up and dressed, chop chop! My son is in need of tutoring, and the council has decided on an answer for the Rune-Boy! Wake up!" She yanked the blankets off of me, and wrapped them around my husband, mostly for his vanity.

I grumbled some obscenities at her, and stood, stumbling over my clothes into my washroom. "Gimme... gimme a moment... not a morning person..."

She shrugged. "Don't really care, I haven't slept in three days! Now I'll go kiss my son, then return to my sleepless, thankless job!" She swatted my rump, and strode out, taking the stoic look and replacing it on her happy features.

I groaned again, and Yalja rubbed my back. "I know, she's very stressful, isn't she?" He murmured, hugging me gently. I leaned into him for a moment, then sighed, and began getting ready.

"How long did he drink with you guys?" I asked, pulling my tunic on and lacing my boots simultaneously.

"Drank us all under the table, actually, calm as can be. He said he didn't have a good constitution for alcohol, but I think that was a lie... he didn't even seem to mind it, three bottles in. Not even a blush. Lucky brat." He sighed, and struck a dramatic pose, covering his eyes.

I smiled and patted his hip. "I'm sure it was all luck, my love. Now kiss your loving wife, she has to go be mean to her nephew all day." I sighed.

He nodded and kissed me sweetly. "Good luck, my love. And if the boy really is... well... just promise you won't let the Matriarch do anything..." he struggled for the politically correct terms.

"Dickish?" I supplied dryly.

He snorted. "Yes, that."

"I promise." I nodded, and kissed him, pressing him all the way into the mattress, then pulling back reluctantly, and walking towards the rooms that were given to Yeshiva, down the hall.

I slammed the doors open loudly, and threw his boots onto his chest, as he floundered in surprise, just like most mornings. "Wake up! It's almost dawn! We've work to do! Up and in the hangar in ten minutes!!!" I snapped, and walked away towards the hangar, snagging some breakfast for all three of us as I went.

The hangar was filled already with a colossal hammering sound, and I walked in to find the Construct hammering out massive metal plates with its fist, under the direction of Rune. The flyer was already in pieces, with all the important bits placed on long tables for either study or repurposing, I wasn't sure yet.

I cleared my throat, in between the pounding sounds, and Rune smiled down at me from his vantage point on the construct's shoulder. "Ah! Hello, Lady Dashiva! How's your morning going?" He shouted.

"Terribly, so far..." I muttered. "What are you doing?" I raised my voice to ask.

"Just making some More armor for the Construct! I plan on making his limbs more sturdy, better covered! I also plan on recreating those anti-gravity engines over there, and placing some around his body! Their workings are a bit odd, but I've already figured out the basics of them!" He laughed, and the Construct stopped hammering, holding the piece of metal to a gap in his armor, where it fit perfectly.

"Wonderful, set it down so I can Rune it!" He called to the Construct, slipping down with a swift, easy grace that no human I'd ever seen had mastered.

I sighed and sat down on a table. "So those glasses reveal to you the nature of things?"

"No, my eyes do that naturally... the glasses just help me see! I'm somewhat blind, in case you hadn't noticed." He shrugged.

"No... I hadn't." I hummed.

"Oh... well, I am. It's no big deal." He shrugged, and started carving Runes into the armor, the same ones on the other pieces.

"Where'd you learn the Dwarven language?" I asked, seeing if his air of casual honesty would continue.

"The Construct taught me the Runes, and their meanings. Faranza taught me Elvish, Gothed taught me gnomish, human, and elder Romnidrian, and Ophelia taught me the language of the Water Spirits. There's quite a few of them... but my brain is so sponge-like, I never stop learning!" He grinned, and finished the first side, continuing on to the other, after flipping the massive piece of metal with his bare hands.

I raised an eyebrow at the display of raw physical strength, and looked at the Construct. "So you said... he was only sorta sentient. A figment, a leaving, of someone else's mind."

"Basically, Yeah." He nodded, and handed the plate up to the giant, who slid it into place, and then heated it until it fused with his other armor. Most of his armor was finished already, burnished a dark Soot-Black, and carved with red Runes, while his joints still showed a bit in places, glowing and pulsing red.

"But he's not alive." I continued.

"No." He shook his head firmly, and started marking another plate of metal for cutting and hammering.

"But you can talk to him? Is it psychic?"

"No, it's a language, the language of machines. All machines speak, and the ones I make are... extra vocal. I don't know if that's a TinkerToy Mage ability, or what, but no machine I've ever seen that I didn't make could speak like he can, though they sort of speak." He hummed, and suddenly pressed a black knife from his pocket to the metal, cutting it like butter.

"Alright... So what are your plans, now?" I asked.

"Wait for an answer from the Council... then work with the College and my new Teacher until I get bored? I get bored very easily, when nothing stimulates my brain." He grinned, and dropped a big chunk of metal off to one side.

"And how much did you eavesdrop from my conversation with the Matriarch last night?" I chuckled.

He paused, mid-cut, then continued. "Just that she's a bit crazy, and needs to rethink her priorities... and you're both wrong. I'm not an Elf, and I'm certainly not nobility." He said the word like a curse, and finished that piece, moving to allow the Construct to hammer again.

"I'm inclined to agree with you, of course." I shrugged.

The hammering hid Yeshiva's approach, as he slunk up behind me, but I spoke between the swings. "You do well, to use the environmental sound to your advantage, my Apprentice, but you should remember that the longer someone is listening to Environmental Sound, the less effective it is to disguise different motions."

He sighed, and sat next to me. "Dammit... what are we doing today, master?"

"We're taking the both of you to the college; you for your lessons, and him to find a Master. After we hear the Council's Decree, of course." I said blandly, and watched as the door whipped open, allowing the council into the hangar.

The elves and humans alike winced at the level of sound, and tried to speak several times, but I noticed he had on ear-blockers, this time, likely hearing them approach just like I had. 'Tricky little shit... I like it.' I grinned.

One of them eventually cast a silencing spell, halting the sound of the banging, and he snapped his spine straight, surprised and intrigued suddenly by the new magic.

"Oh! Didn't see you there! How fortuitous, that you would come see me just a day after our first meeting! Have you come to discuss terms more thoroughly, or offer a counter-proposal?" He asked amicably, cleaning his hands with a rag. Suddenly, all the grease and oil fell off of his body, and he stood there, as impeccably clean as the night before.

The Council Head stepped forward. "We have come to accept your proposal, with a few addendum's."

He shook his head. "Then you have come with a new proposal. Either you accept, and parlay is over, or it is not done, and this is simply your return sally. Speak your proposition, then, and I will consider it." He sighed.

She smirked slightly, and nodded. "I suppose that is true. In your proposition, you asked for a Warehouse, Assurances your work would be attributed, a supply of material for your work, and a License to sell your work legally. In return for these things, you agreed to loan us your Research on the Temple and Construct, and give us first pick of your works, which will be paid for appropriately. That was your proposition, correct?"

He nodded. "That is Correct. Your Return?"

"We will do these things, with two addendum's. First: your weapons will be classified as unfit for sale to citizens, and solely for the use of expeditionary forces and soldiers, and you will not sell them to our enemies in the other archipelagos. Second: you will allow the Construct to be studied, and if it is possible to recreate it, we would like you to do so." She nodded.

"That's four addendum's, not two, first of all. One: no civilian-sale, Two: only to members of your archipelago, Three: allow the Construct to be studied, Four: Create more. I disagree with numbers two, three, and four. I never intended to sell weapons to normal civilians, in the first place. I restate my original offer, with the addendum of not selling advanced weaponry to civilians who are not part of the expeditionary forces. You may deliberate again, if you wish, but the Construct is purely my work, as you can surely see, and therefore is none of your business." He shrugged, and gestured at the improvements he'd made in the short amount of time.

The Construct stood, his new armor mostly finished, but still needing Runes, and cracked its neck loudly, breaking through the silencing spell, and groaning in its language, making Rune laugh.

They glanced at one another, and she sighed, walking back over to deliberate again.

"Take it elsewhere, for Shistu's sake! God's above you people need to learn how to negotiate properly!" He grumbled, and began inscribing the armor with Runes, as they all shuffled out of the building, keeping a tight, whispering group.

I looked at him oddly. "You worship Shistu? The Dwarven god of Luck?"

He laughed. "Worship is a bit much, but he's my favorite god to curse with, if that's what you mean!" The armor piece rolled over in his hand, and after inspecting the Runes, he handed it up, and watched carefully as it was placed, heated, and then alchemically turned into the black iron the rest of his body was covered in.

"Alright, Buddy, that's almost everything, how you feeling?" He asked.

The giant pointed at his face, still unchanged, and made a groaning sound.

"You want a new helmet? Alright, that can be done... get me that big piece over there." He pointed off at a large piece that had been the nose of the Flyer, at one part.

It was carried over, and he began cutting it, carefully reimagining the Construct, Rune'd the inside and out, and eventually stepped back, letting the giant pick up the helmet to place it on. Almost immediately, it too blackened, and the groan was almost happy, this time.

"Yes, Yes, you look very fierce, Construct." Rune chuckled, as the Council came back in, and saw the Construct in its new Form.