Episode 9.1 - Just Rewards

Episode 9 - Rising Sun

9.1 - Just Rewards

We made the return trip without further incident, marching briskly all the way home. Unfortunately, we never did manage to get Eshu to open up. As for what I learned about Ko, well, what am I supposed to say about it?

 We arrived home just yesterday. This morning, Lila announced we were off to see the result of a project she gave instructions for before we left.

"Come on, don't be so slow!" Eshu chrips, skipping ahead of us cheerily, Ko hot on her heels. I'm strolling a few paces behind them, Lila at my side. I smile watching Eshu's ever-infectious energy and Ko try to match it as she runs afte-- I was not looking at her legs just now, alright?

"Watch'a thinking," our demon coos, floating at eye level beside me.

"I'm thinking," I reply with a sigh, "That this might not be such a good idea; there's no reason she had to come along. Her last collapse was sparked by Flint."
     Lila shrugs a little too causally, and it annoys me, "She's been fine around the other villagers, hasn't she?"

"You know this is different. What if she snaps again?"
      She floats closer, letting her breath brush teasingly against my ear, "Would that be so bad?"

I flinch back, not in the mood to be made fun of, "How would that not be bad?"

"'Cause whatever this is ain't natural."
     I scowl. Why can't it be? I was unsure at first, too, but isn't it good to have Eshu back to her regular self? We don't know how to help her 'episodes', so we should just count our blessings that they've gone away. "Look, maybe it's something in the world’s lore that doing the ceremony 'fixes' things."

"You don't believe that any more than I do," Lila frowns.
   
Before I can reply, the girl in question calls out again, "Seriously, come on! What are you two on a date or something?"

"A-a date, with her?" I stutter, only warranting a satisfied grin from Eshu.
      "Dating your doggie, how bold, Mistress," she adds.

"Alright, come 'ere you!" Lila replies, floating off in pursuit and leaving me behind to slump my shoulders dejectedly.

****

““““Hoooooh,”””” that about sums up our group reaction to the village's newest building. Built out the back of Flint's forge is a large wooden warehouse. While simple in its construction, it’s clearly sturdy and well thought out. Neatly organised shelves and benches line one wall, while tools and work areas are nearby. Most striking perhaps, is the row of two dozen robot corpses in various states of deconstruction. Various limbs and metal panels have been taken off, some nearby are being experimented on.

 Apparently, Lila tasked Flint with this job before we left on our little scouting trip, and he hasn't disappointed. The fact is, sci-fi robots from a game set in the far future are an absolute treasure trove of parts. Alloys we'd need specific facilities to produce ourselves, the weapons they carry that are far in advance of our own - and most of all, made up 'bullshitium' - you know the stuff, supermetals that a far-future setting has that allow for outrageous leaps in logic. Sadly, the Scout-Drones are the cheapest class of robot from that game, so their construction matches that affordability, but it's still a massive boon worthy of stripping for parts.

I also notice that the shed has no eye-level windows. Instead, there are gaps high up and two massive skylights, allowing for plenty light but preventing any villager from peeking in and seeing the topic of their worst memories. I imagine that thoughtfulness was Flint's doing, though I doubt he'd ever admit it, heh-heh.

"'Parts you wanted, milady," the towering old man announces, sounding comically polite. I'd forgotten how different and deferential he is in front of Lila.

"Come on, man, you're ruining your image," I say, elbowing him in the ribs. Fiery eyes bore into me, "Every noble lady needs herself an armoury boy!" he rumbles.
      Lila curtseys in the air, perhaps enjoying playing the part, "Heh, good job Mr Flint, you've more than exceeded my request, and in such a short period of time at that."

I swear to god, behind the wall of bushy white facial hair, I think the old man actually just blushed! This patriotism doesn't befit you; what happened to my cool-guy smithy!

"Now then," Lila floats over to a pallet loaded with piles of raw material, different coloured metals and other components. She flicks through the menu before settling on one item. With the familiar 'ding' of a purchase, a square appears on the ground in front of her. It's a somewhat nondescript silver box, with a few buttons on its top surface. Lila immediately sets to messing with the controls.

"What is it?" Ko asks. Standing in her shadow is Eshu. As soon as we entered and met up with Flint, she went all quiet, hiding behind Ko meekly. I guess it’s not the worst possible reaction, at least. My eyes drift as I'm looking at the two, down to her le– No I don't! And I don't think Ko saw me look, so it’s fine! Probably! Maybe…

"A replicator? Pretty neat idea," I answer, nodding with approval at the item from WarLands and trying to distract myself from my prior thought, "It can save a recipe, repeating construction of something you've already made before."

"Meaning," Lila cuts in, pressing one final button and then another in the system menu, "Flint won't need me here to use the menu's feature for this!"
     The pile of raw materials glows a hot white, and with an almost anti-climactic puff of smoke, a turret appears in its place. "Perfect," the 'Countess' nods, "I set it to buy anything we can't provide from the shop. The green button there, you wanna' do the honour Mr Flint."

Flint's barrel-chested goodness swells with pride, "If I'm worthy!"
      He presses the button, and the remaining resources glow like before. A second gun turret appears. It's a sleek contraption, a smooth barrel atop a four-legged tripod, two handles at the back and a thinner nozzle at the front. These were powerful in the game, you could rip one up and hoist it around like a minigun - how useful that was is debatable, but I remember it feeling really cool to do so.

 "Heh-heh-heh, this here is the same type of 'laser' that those Killer-Drones use, taste of their own medicine."

"Hoh," I clap lightly, genuinely impressed by her foresight to have started a plan for this before we even saw the massive drone armies out there in the wilds.

"Blacksmith, Sek is at your disposal; use him well."

"I am?"
     Lila nods, "I want ya’ to draw and measure out a map of the barrier's exact dimensions; buy whatever measuring devices you need from the menu. With that, you guys should be able to work out the precise number of these turrets it would take to cover us on all sides. Flint, you'll make as many as possible manually, any we're short on we can buy outright. Although they're pretty pricey, so the less we have to rely on the menu for our defences, the better."

"Right you are, Countess!" Flint friggin salutes.
     "Ah, ya, that does sound smart, sure thing," I add.

"Very well, we'll be off then," Lila says, beckoning the girls. Flint takes a sudden step forward, "Actually, ma'am, if I might..."

"Huh? Sure, shoot."

"Thank you!" he bows, and I could swear I hear the sound of his old man's back groaning. He leads us over to the rear door and a particular set of workbenches.
      "Begging your pardon, but I got a bit carried away experimenting," he says, scratching wryly at his beard.

"These are awesome," Ko's eyes sparkle, and I'm inclined to agree.

"Here, boy," the blacksmith continues in his more familiar gruff tone of voice, tossing me a blade. It weighs almost exactly the same as the longsword I've been using; it's even the exact same length. The key difference is the rows of razor-sharp teeth lining the blade's edge.

"Pull the 'andle."
     I do so, and, slowly at first, then faster and faster, the blade revolves, its cutting teeth blurring together into a chainsaw’s menacing silhouette.

"Should cut through those drone things armour like butter - certainly if you ever face ones that don't have as easy a weak point as those gemstones."
     I ogle the blade, it's plainly incredible. I let the latch free, and it slowly spins right back down. I suppose it’s likely that the lore of Escape states blacksmiths double as metallurgists and armourers in that way fantasy loves to conflate jobs together - but I also can't help but think Flint is simply an incredible old craftsman.

"For you, Milady," Milady? He's speaking at Ko, who looks just as surprised by the address. As Lila's blood sisters, that must make Ko and Eshu her heirs in Flint’s eyes? Heh, all that afternoon tea 'training' might actually pay off.
     "The blades are too delicate to apply to the claws on your gauntlets," he says, sounding slightly bitter, like a man who'd tried very hard to make it work, "So these instead."

He hands Ko, well, if I didn't know better, I would have sworn they were the same old gauntlets I've seen many times.
      "Your hits are quite strong already, so I thought, with metal sturdy enough to survive the strain, you could well tear through those bastards. Excuse my language..."

"Thank you very much! Did you make them from memory? They're a perfect replica," Ko replies, trying them on. If you look closely, you can tell the polished metal is a slightly different colour, a silvery-blue sheen.

"For the little miss," Flint looks over to Eshu, but she shies even further behind Ko's back.

"Sorry 'bout that," I begin to say, but Flint shakes his head and instead hands me a round object, "Nothin' for her to apologise to the likes of me for. Her daggers are already fairly small, as I understand it. The chainblades those metal men used are already a similar size - I have some lads working on making them hilts and sheafs - I'm sure she can make use of them and the rest your man Tom's folk can have," he says beckoning with his chin towards the table covered in the chainblades and laser pistols that were once affixed to the Scout-Drone’s arms.

 "That'll be a great help, I'm sure the Estolpfo will be very grateful," Lila says, and again I could swear this old man blushes!

He turns back to me, his eyes going to what he handed me. It's a small round dish with a strap on the back, a buckler, I think they're called. "The little miss ain't the sort of fighter to wear much armour, idea is not to get hit, I suppose, but sometimes there's a blow you can't avoid, eh? A hit, a strike that can't be changed. Nothing deeper to such things, they just happen sometimes, and maybe it'll come in handy someday, that’s what I thought."

I step over to Eshu, and she cautiously lets me put it on her arm. She tries it out a bit. Clearly, it's very light, yet the colour of the metal implies it's probably made of unbreakable sci-fi mumbo jumbo; it could be a genuinely life-saving thing someday.
Eshu shyly nods at Flint.

"You really have outdone yourself, old man," I grin, warranting an expected frown in my direction.
"Nothing less than the Countess and her ladies deserve... And their dog, too."

"Ah, come on, not you too! Stick with calling me 'boy' like it's a swear word! I'm begging you!"

"Pah!" he replies. A chuckle escapes Ko's lips, and before long, we are all laughing.

"Well then," Flint says, apparently done sharing his goodies, "I'll grab my yard stick, let's be off measuring that shield, don't dally, boy!" he bellows. I sigh, but honestly, I can't get mad at this guy; dude is a machine! All this in just two weeks? After he'd spent the weeks prior to that forging like mad to help construct the new settlement? I mean, the guy is a friggin' blacksmith, yet here he is dismantling robots!
     Before I know it, he's dragging me off back to the fort, leaving the girls waving a tad bemused goodbyes in our wake, as though seeing me off on a voyage out to war.

Not making Eshu a dagger, but a shield with all that talk about hits you can't avoid - I wonder, just maybe, does he know? Was that his way of telling her he doesn't blame her for what happened?           Nah, now I really am going too far. If I glaze this old man any further, it'll dip into hero worship, how lame! Even so, I look at the chainsword on my belt as he drags me off; truly, old men are the coolest, ain't they?