Amazon Apocalypse 4: Chapter 16

I walked back the way I’d came with time to spare, so I stopped by the artificer shops. Looking through the windows and studying what was on display was educational for me. For some of my projects, like working on my staff, I’d been completely on the wrong track as far as the Dragon Lodge was concerned.

The thing that made me stop in my tracks was a store that sold golems. I had rubble from the ones we’d fought back outside of Crownhill, but the magic running through those things had been complicated even before I saw one broken. These golems, on the other hand, were still a cut above other enchantments, but nowhere near as complex as the ones I’d fought.

I stood outside the window of the shop. The place sported the kind of floor to ceiling clear glass that spoke of an impressive marketing budget. Far more than the enchanting shops to either side boasted.

The golem on display was a lithe female figure that shared a similar feminine figure to Bridget. Her face was carved of solid jade and shaped into a neutral expression. I could tell at a glance that whoever made these things certainly had a lot of passion for their craft. They’d perfected more than just enchantments. This was art.

I wondered if the creator would take contribution points in exchange for a lesson or two. I still had some time before meeting back up with Cyra, and having my time with the theorycrafter cut short had left me with a hunger for knowledge. The Dragon Lodge’s campus had so much to teach.

The golem on display was even wearing an apron, and next to her was a broom. Clearly, this was some sort of servant golem intended to serve as a maid. From the extremely high cut of the maid’s dress and the immense amount of attention put into sculpting lifelike curves into the golem, I suspected she was meant to be more than just a servant.

Next to her were several other models dressed in a variety of skimpy outfits. Some resembled waitresses, others flight attendants. Others wore martial artists’ robes and a few even had rather impractical armor. In every case, I was pretty sure the outfits were largely for show.

“Don’t stand in the street peering up the golems' skirts, lad,” asked a small but stout fellow entering the same building. “We have ones inside for that.”

I turned to look at the man speaking to me. He was only about chest height, but his shoulders were broader than mine. He had a braided beard and wore a tiny cap that almost covered a dining plate-sized bald spot on the top of his head. Besides the undersized hat, he was finely dressed and instantly gave me the impression of a skilled craftsman.

“You work here?” I asked.

“Aye. Have since I bought the place nearly a hundred years a go. Come on in. Don’t worry, I don’t mind young lads standing around and staring. You might not be able to afford one of these fine ladies now, but I play the long game. Fall in love now, then save up for a decade or two, eh?” he chuckled as he opened the door for me.

Within, the golems on display abandoned the whole serving aesthetic, and many of them were completely naked, which showed they were fully sculpted down to the very last detail. Without clothes in the way, the flow of energy through them was much more apparent. Dragoneyed Mage combined with my artificing instincts revealed a lot about how the golems moved and the control module within them.

Unlike the ones on display at the front, these were active. Six of them strode around in glass containers scattered throughout a wide room. One lounged with her legs crossed, casting a lonely gaze toward a crowd of drooling young men standing around the glass case. Another danced around a poll with a similar crowd. My eyes scanned each one, watching the magic flowing through these facsimiles of humanoid life.

Was that a monster core inside them? It looked like they came from a very specific monster, perhaps an elemental, though different from the lava elemental I’d harvested a core from. And it looked like a lot of work had been put into the joints so they would bent fluidly. I couldn't tell what gave the golems intelligence, but there was a dim spark of simplistic intelligence in there beneath a next of restrictions and protocols. It was probably the spirit of a humanoid monster, and it took a lot of convincing to control a golem properly, let alone as seductively as the ones on display.

The dwarf next to me chuckled at my studious expression as I studied the golems.

“Don’t fall in love yet, lad. Our cheapest models require a C-Grade Artificer months of work, so the prices aren’t low. The models start at fifty thousand gold, or a thousand contribution points if you’re a student here. When you’ve saved up, come find me in my office upstairs. I can make a custom body, though the personalities vary from model to model. The names Dane Delverson, of Delverson’s Sensual Golems. Enjoy yourself, lad. I know I sure did in my day. It’s what made me chase becoming an artificer so bad.”

I sensed Dane looking to depart. I could have wandered around pretending not to be an artificer and probably stolen some secrets from him, but this guy seemed pretty genuine and proud of his work. I decided to simply be genuine with him.

“I’m actually something of an artificer myself. I love your designs.”

“Oh?” the dwarf looked less interested than I thought he would. Artificers were supposed to be rare, but maybe he had a lot of people claiming to be artificers.

I needed something that would catch his interest. Perhaps I could trade information? My secrets to good golem making in exchange for his? I had a few mannequin parts I’d been working on in Morgathor’s satchel.

I pulled out an arm I was half finished with. “My own work, if you’re interested.”

The dwarf glanced at the inscribed mannequin arm, at first disinterested, but with increasing intensity as he scanned the enchantments.

“Let’s take this conversation up into my office. I have some of the proper tools up there.”

We ascended a set of stairs together, rounded a corner, and then arrived in a large but spartan corner office. The grease-slickened gloves and hand tools in the corner told me that this wasn’t his real workspace, just somewhere he conducted sales. Dane gestured to a seat in front of his desk and then sat down on his own, setting the mannequin arm down on the table.

“Alright lad, I see what you’re trying to do. Trying to fence stolen goods to me, eh? Which of my competitors did you swipe this arm from? I don’t recognize the make at all.” He eyed me like one might eye a dangerous criminal being interrogated.

“I really did enchant that. I’m an artificer, I swear!”

“Horse shit. I know the names and faces of every C-Grade artificer in this city.”

“I just got here earlier today. I’m here as a student, actually.”

“Mhm. And how exactly did a young man at your age get the artificer class? You can’t be what, no older than seventy? I can hardly tell with you beardless folk. If you’re an artificer, you’re the youngest one in the city.”

I frowned. It seemed like I needed another set of excuses. Seeing how well it worked with the theorycrafter, I decided to pin it all on the Samhain family.

“I married into the Samhain family, actually. This mark here should be proof of that.”

I rolled up my sleeve and showed them the mark Myrina and I shared. At that, Dane finally looked like he believed me.

“Well damn. Here I thought the Samhain’s only ever conquered honest craftsmen. I never would have guessed that they’d bring one into the main family. Usually they look down on a lot of the crafting clans. It’s the way of the warrior for them.”

“Admittedly, I’m a pretty competent spellcaster too. I reached C-Grade through my class.”

“Ah... alright... alright. Damn, if a lad like you had beaten me to being a C-Grade artificer at your age while also being a C-Grade fighter and getting into the academy as a student, I’d have to hang up my hammer in shame.” Dane Delverson let out a laugh, then wiped his brow, where a little sweat had beaded up on it. He’d regained some of his confidence now.

I chuckled along with him and made a mental note to keep the fact that I was a Master Artificer to myself. I’d let him think I just had the artificer class, and that it was only at D-Grade while I focused on my C-Grade class.

“So... I greatly admired your golems from the window, and not just for the artful sculpting work on the exterior. I was hoping you and I could chat about artificing. I could even pay for some tutoring, if you like. And I'll share what few secrets I have as well as recompense.”

“Yes, yes, I know exactly what you mean. It’s been a long while since I did any tutoring, but if you’re capable of this kind of work already, I’ll give you a lesson or two. Just a few tips to guide your studies.” Dane Delverson ran his fingers along the length of the mannequin arm. “Let’s start by figuring out what you were trying to do. Then I’ll point out where you could do the same thing a bit more efficiently...”

Dane turned out to be a surprisingly skilled teacher in the art of artificing. His work down below was was a clear enough example of his talent, but being good at something didn’t necessarily mean someone was also good at teaching it.

Two hours passed, and in those two hours I learned tips and tricks that would have taken hours of experimentation. Dane Delverson got so into teaching he forgot I was paying for a lesson and kept talking well past our agreed upon time. He was someone who really enjoyed his work, and while I could tell he was skirting around a few trade secrets, he wasn’t shy about sharing everything else a professional Artificer ought to know.

Eventually, we were getting close to the time I was supposed to meet up with Cyra, and I had to be the one to bring up leaving.

“Oh, leaving so soon? We’re just getting to the good stuff!” Dane said.

“What do I owe you for the lesson?” I asked.

He waved a meaty hand. “That? I just rambled on and on. Been a long time since I took classes at the academy and tutored anybody. Consider this session on the house. It’s just me brushing the rust off. Next time I’ll charge you ten contribution points an hour. How’s that sound?”

“Perfectly fair,” I said, shaking hands. “By the way, I have one last question.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve talked a lot about the pattern of energy flow in golems. What about the naturally occurring patterns in people like us? Surely if we could copy what we’ve got, we’d end up with a powerful golem. After all, I can punch pretty hard these days.”

Dane Delverson froze, silent for the first time since I’d gotten him talking.

“Lad, I know exactly the line of thought you’re going down, and you’re better off cutting it short now.” His gaze was sharp enough to cut.

“What’s so wrong with copying people to make golems?”

Dane Delverson sucked in a breath and lowered his voice. “Doing that would require knowledge of things better left unstudied. The secrets you seek stray dangerously close to the heretical art of cultivation. A promising young Artificer like you ought to keep his nose clean and walk the straight and narrow. Got it?”

“I got it.” I nodded, though now I was even more curious than before. My class wasn’t called Sage of Forbidden Knowledge for nothing.

He showed me to the door, where there was a familiar face. Borelius LImstave was lingering around one of the jade statues.

“Excuse me,” he said, heated flush to his cheeks. “I’d like to make a purchase.”

“Ah, looks like I have a customer already.” Dane Delverson rubbed his hands together. “I have to warn you, lad, these golems are quite expensive.”

“My family has given me a modest expense account. I’m sure I can afford it.” His eyes flicked over to me, where they widened in recognition. "Carter of the Samhain Clan? I didn't realize you were a man of culture as well..."

“Enjoy your golem, Borelius,” I chuckled as I left the shop to find Cyra.

***

I was the first to arrive at our agreed upon meeting spot. Cyra was a few minutes late and looked a bit worse for wear.

“Looks like you just got into a few dozen fights in a row,” I commented when I saw her torn and ragged clothes.

“You could say that.” Cyra rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.

I gave Cyra one of her spare sets of clothes. She’d left most of her things in the tent in Morgathor’s satchel, so now she could dress well enough for a restaurant.

“Cheaper, or more expensive?”

“We can pick someplace nice. I’ve already found a good source of these contribution points,” Cyra smiled wide. “Turns out they’ve got an arena back there and bets are allowed. I’ve already doubled what I came in here with several times over.”

“Nice. I found a few leads on more contribution points as well. It looks like artificer work can earn a pretty penny.”

We found a place, sat down, ate, and talked. I told her about my theorycrafter session, which was a bit of a disappointment. Then I told her about my artificing tutoring session, which had gone far better than I could have hoped. The two balanced one another out, and all in all, I was rather satisfied with things.

We were just finishing up the main course when someone kicked down the door.

In strode a big woman with tattoos lining her muscles that glowed with lifelike images of monsters and beasts.

“Where is she? Where is this so called Cyra the Unbeatable? I, Lauria of the Phantomfist Clan demand a rematch!”

<Note>

So, as you guys have probably guessed, I'm promising 3 chapters a week while secretly trying to deliver 4. But shhh... pretend this is still a surprise.