by S. R. Witt
Robert smirked. “Right you are. Now, let’s go get the treasure out of the chest, and we can divvy it up. Eldred, you’re with me.”
“Sounds good,” Karzic croaked.
“Shhhh,” Sandra cooed at the dwarf, uncorking the vial. “Save your strength.”
Osmark headed for the small chamber, Eldred trailing a few paces behind. He could almost feel her anticipation building—he was handing them a perfect ambush on a silver platter, and any assassin worth their salt would know it. Once inside the room, he opened the chest and glanced down, a lopsided grin splitting his face. “Well, this is more than I expected.”
And it was true.
Much of the chest was filled with a king’s ransom worth of gold coins and polished gemstones, but there were two other vitally important items resting on top of the pile of loot: First, was a fat golden disk, about the size of an old-world CD, with the image of a noble-faced man in profile and the Latin phrase Imperatorius Factio Signum on the top and Domini est Terra on the bottom. His Faction Seal. The second item was a thick leather-bound tome studded with bits of metal and cogs.
An Artificer’s Guidebook—a prize almost as rare as the Seal.
“Raise your hands, and step away from the chest.” Eldred’s voice was as smooth and venomous as a serpent. “You made a big mis—”
The word mistake froze on her lips as a guttural cry sounded from outside the treasure chamber. Karzic’s tortured voice rose higher than Robert thought possible. It was a pained, frantic plea for mercy that held no words, only an animal’s cry for life. Apparently the Coldskull poison wasn’t just deadly, it was painful. All the better.
Osmark drew his pistol and spun, bringing the barrel up to head height. As he’d hoped, the summoner had her back to him, distracted by Karzic’s death cry. Osmark let out a sigh of relief as he pressed the repeater’s barrel against the side of Eldred’s head. “Who made a mistake?”
The summoner froze, her body suddenly as rigid as a statue. “I’ll tell you everything,” Eldred said, panic giving her voice a frantic edge. “You want to know who sent me? I can tell you who sent me.”
Osmark offered Eldred a smile as hard and cold as a straight razor. “I already know. I’ve known since Targ slipped up and showed me his tattoo in the elevator.”
“Then why?” Eldred asked, turning slowly to face him, her hands still raised. “Why fight the Goliath when you knew we were traitors?” He could see her doing the calculations in her mind, but none of it added up to the Accipiter. Her sense of self-preservation was too strong to gamble like Robert had. She’d never try to buck the odds like that.
Which is why she had lost, and Osmark had won.
“Because I needed you.”
The repeater roared three times in quick succession, and Eldred’s head disappeared into a cloud of moist red vapor. Blood pumped from the cratered stump of her neck, then her knees collapsed, and the winged woman fell to the floor.
“And now I don’t,” Osmark said, smoothly holstering the repeater.
Sandra peeked around the corner of the doorway, her short sword in hand. “All clear?”
“All clear,” Osmark replied, folding his hands behind his back as he loomed over Eldred’s corpse.
“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Sandra said, trying to force a smile. It didn’t work.
He shook his head and shrugged noncommittally. “Traitors. I thought things were bad enough in the boardroom, but this is taking it to a whole new level. I have to figure out how Sizemore got his people in here because it shouldn’t be possible. He must have someone on the inside.”
Sandra frowned at that suggestion. “I don’t believe that’s possible.”
Osmark shrugged again, unconcerned with what she believed. Not about this. She was a phenomenal assistant—capable, loyal, witty—and a deadly security consultant, but he was the tech genius. He was the inventor of V.G.O. and the father of the Overminds who ruled this world. So in this, Sandra’s opinion didn’t matter and he couldn’t afford to spend time or energy arguing with her. He needed to get back to town, get his gear patched up as soon as possible, and talk with Rozak before the day was done.
“Let’s just see what we’ve got, shall we? Then get the hell out of here.”
Sandra counted the money while Robert examined his loot.
There was nothing for her, or anyone else, in the chest. It was all his, and there was plenty of it. He took the Seal first, eager to finally have the coveted item in his inventory. Osmark didn’t bother trying to pull up a description—the Faction Seals were extraordinarily rare, and there was an expectation that players who found one would know what it was and how to use it. Next, he examined a new pair of Artificer’s goggles with better bonuses, an extra ability, and space for an extra lens when he got around to making one:
<<<>>>
Master Artificer’s Goggles
One of the most important tools in an Artificer’s bag of tricks are his goggles. The master model has five different lenses, each of which provides a different bonus:
Magnifying Lens (clear): Provides a +15% bonus to any Engineering task involving intricate or detailed work.
Engraver’s Lens (blue): Provides a +15% bonus to any Engineering task related to repairing Divine Geometry patterns.
Harvester Lens (green): Provides a +15% bonus to any Engineering task related to disassembling engineered items for parts or plans.
Surveyor Lens (telescoping): This lens provides a +15% bonus to any Mining tasks.
Marksman’s Lens: This lens provides a +10% bonus to Ranged Attack Strength when using any Engineered weapon.
Empty Lens Mount: This mount can be used to install any lens that can be found or created.
<<<>>>
Last came the Artificer’s Guidebook. A heavy, old thing that felt right in his hands—as though it were made for him and him alone. He flipped back the front cover and noticed the first few pages were already marked up with what looked like blueprints. Before he could thoroughly examine them, though, Sandra’s voice cut through the room.
“Boss, want to see what I found under this obscene pile of gold?”
He stowed the book for later examination, and Sandra handed him a long hooded cape, a garish top hat, a pair of gloves, and a padded jacket, all woven with the same geometric patterns he’d come to recognize as the mark of the Brand-Forged Artificers. His armor set was complete.
<<<>>>
Geometrically Threaded Cape
Armor Type: Light, padded
Class: Ancient Artifact; Set Item
Base Defense: 10 (20 vs. Mechanical Creatures or Automatons)
Special: 1 Sigil Plate
Primary Effects:
+20 to Intelligence
+10 to Reputation with all Friendly Factions
+10 Renown
Secondary Effects:
Part of the Artifactory Engineer’s Uniform Armor Set
+5 Armor against all mechanical or automaton attacks per set piece worn
All Stamina Costs are reduced by 15% (2 pieces)
+10 to Movement Bonus (3 pieces)
+25% increased chance to avoid Movement Restricting Debuffs (4 pieces)
+1 Large Mounting Bracket (5 pieces)
+1 Sigil Plate when the full suit is worn (6 pieces)
<<<>>>
Geometrically Threaded Gloves
Armor Type: Light, padded
Class: Ancient Artifact; Set Item
Base Defense: 5 (10 vs. Mechanical Creatures or Automatons)
Special: 1 Small Mounting Bracket, 1 Sigil Plate
Primary Effects:
+20 to Intelligence
+10 to Reputation with all Friendly Factions
+10 Renown
Secondary Effects:
Part of the Artifactory Engineer’s Uniform Armor Set
+5 Armor against all mechanical or automaton attacks per set piece worn
All Stamina Costs are reduced by 15% (2 pieces)
> +10 to Movement Bonus (3 pieces)
+25% increased chance to avoid Movement Restricting Debuffs (4 pieces)
+1 Large Mounting Bracket (5 pieces)
+1 Sigil Plate when the full suit is worn (6 pieces)
<<<>>>
Geometrically Threaded Gentlemen’s Hat
Armor Type: Light, padded
Class: Ancient Artifact; Set Item
Base Defense: 5 (10 vs. Mechanical Creatures or Automatons)
Special: 1 Sigil Plate
Primary Effects:
+20 to Intelligence
+10 to Reputation with all Friendly Factions
+10 Renown
Secondary Effects:
Part of the Artifactory Engineer’s Uniform Armor Set
+5 Armor against all mechanical or automaton attacks per set piece worn
All Stamina Costs are reduced by 15% (2 pieces)
+10 to Movement Bonus (3 pieces)
+25% increased chance to avoid Movement Restricting Debuffs (4 pieces)
+1 Large Mounting Bracket (5 pieces)
+1 Sigil Plate when the full suit is worn (6 pieces)
<<<>>>
Geometrically Threaded Jacket
Armor Type: Light, padded
Class: Ancient Artifact; Set Item
Base Defense: 20 (40 vs. Mechanical Creatures or Automatons)
Special: 2 Medium Mounting Brackets, 1 Sigil Plate
Primary Effects:
+20 to Intelligence
+10 to Reputation with all Friendly Factions
+10 Renown
Secondary Effects:
Part of the Artifactory Engineer’s Uniform Armor Set
+5 Armor against all mechanical or automaton attacks per set piece worn
All Stamina Costs are reduced by 15% (2 pieces)
+10 to Movement Bonus (3 pieces)
+25% increased chance to avoid Movement Restricting Debuffs (4 pieces)
+1 Large Mounting Bracket (5 pieces)
+1 Sigil Plate when the full suit is worn (6 pieces)
<<<>>>
Osmark wanted to stop right then and there to exchange his old gear for the full set of Geometrically Threaded Armor, but he was filthy—covered in gore and grime and oil. He refused to stain his new wardrobe with the blood of traitors. When he left this tomb behind, he wanted no reminder of the Coldskulls. He leaned against the pedestal holding the treasure chest, fuming silently about Sizemore. The man would pay for everything he’d done, but what fate could possibly be terrible enough to fit his crimes?
As he glanced at Eldred’s ruined body an idea occurred to him. “Do you have a port-scroll back to Tomestide?” he asked his assistant.
“Of course, boss,” Sandra replied, tapping a scroll case strapped to the outside of her left thigh. “I never leave home without at least one emergency escape hatch.” She paused, stealing a sideways glance at him. “But don’t you have a port-stone?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” he replied, an edge of arctic ice coating the words. “But I have something else in mind for that.” He pulled the opalescent ball from his inventory and opened its item description in his interface.
<<<>>>
Port-stone
Activation allows instantaneous travel between the user’s current location and a predetermined location (the port anchor).
The anchor may be changed to the user’s current location by willing the update.
Cooldown: The port-stone requires a cooldown period of 1 hour after each use.
Current Anchor: Tomestide
<<<>>>
With a malicious grin, he activated the stone—not teleporting back to Tomestide, but rather changing the anchor location to the small alcove with the pedestal. Oh yes, Sizemore would pay all right—and he would pay for a very, very, very long time. He silently closed out of the menu and turned his attention on Sandra.
“Alright,” he said, rubbing his fingers over the smooth surface of the stone. “Before we go, we have some work to do. I want to salvage what we can from these wonderful machines. We’ll pack this chest”—he thumped the heavy box with his fist—“then carry the rest on our backs when we teleport out.”
Sandra groaned, then nodded. “Of course, boss. But where should we even start?” She paused, chewing on her bottom lip as she looked around. “There’s just so much of it.”
“Easy,” Robert replied as he absently scratched his chin. “Start with the buzzsaw and the flamethrower the golem had strapped to its arms. Then we’ll move on to raw materials. I think you’ll find something interesting over there,” Osmark said, gesturing toward the far corner of the room.
Sandra groaned again, but set to work.
THIRTY-ONE:
Class Change
Sandra scowled at Robert as they stumbled through the portal from the Artifactory and back into Tomestide. “Rozak can wait, boss. You need food, rest”—she paused, lips pressed into a thin line—“and probably a priest just to take the edge off. Honestly, Robert, you’re half dead. You can’t even stand on your own two feet. You’re exhausted—and I should know, because I’m exhausted. Please.” She reached out and placed a hand on his forearm. “Just a little break.”
Osmark waved away his assistant’s concerns, adjusted the hood of his travel-stained cloak to hide his face from any unfriendlies who might be lurking around Tomestide, and continued down the street. The immense weight of all the loot and raw materials in his inventory made the trek slow going, but he wasn’t about to delay meeting with Rozak even a second longer.
“The inn is always open, and so is the church, but Rozak? His shop will be closing up any time. If I don’t catch him now, I won’t be able to get in to see him before tomorrow morning. And if that happens, the rest of my schedule will be off by at least eight hours. Maybe more. We can’t afford that, Sandra, not with everything happening tomorrow. This needs to be done, and it needs to be done now.”
Sandra huffed angrily, arms folded across her chest in disapproval, but didn’t try to stop her boss from carrying out his plans. “At least let me carry some of that scrap, then. You’re over-encumbered. It’ll go faster if I—”
Robert squared his shoulders under the weight of his burden and turned to face Sandra with a cold, determined stare. “I appreciate your concern. I do. And I know you’re just doing your job, but this isn’t open for discussion. I need to speak with Rozak immediately. Alone.”
Sandra flinched away from the hard edge underlying Osmark’s words. His chest tightened at the hurt in his assistant’s eyes. He’d rarely raised his voice to Sandra, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d shut her down so completely. But Rozak was temperamental at the best of times, and Osmark couldn’t risk having the presence of a stranger upset the dwarf before he had a chance to lay out his plans.
“Very well,” she replied coolly with a dip of her head, jaw clenched tight. “I’ll round up a priest, head over to the inn, and have some food prepared for you.” Then, without another word, she turned on one heel and set off, cold anger marking her steps.
Osmark shook his head—no matter how much he learned, women remained a mystery.
He put her from mind and made his way down Tomestide’s many side streets, trying to stay off the main roads where enemies would most likely be posted. Still, despite his aches and pains, and the near fatal encounter with the Coldskulls, Osmark felt good. His plan was ahead of schedule. The new gear he’d retrieved from the restricted area would make him even more powerful than he’d expected. And he had enough supplies to build a respectable arsenal of engineered toys.
Even Sizemore’s treachery had played into Osmark’s hands.
If the senator had been a little cleverer, things could’ve been much trickier for Robert. Trying to explain the threat Sizemore posed to the other board members would’ve been a hard sell if Sizemore had kept his scheming hidden. Overt aggression, though, was another matter entirely. There wasn’t a single member of the board who was going to sit
for the senator sending assassins after Robert. After all, if Sizemore could turn on Osmark, he could turn on anyone.
“You grabbed the wrong tiger’s tail, Senator,” he whispered, eyes scanning the darkness for potential threats.
The sound of steel striking an anvil reached Osmark’s ears as he rounded a corner and spied Rozak banging away at a piece of glowing metal with his oversized hammer. Osmark wondered if the dwarf was actually building something or if all the activity was just for show.
When he reached the shop, Robert raised his voice to make sure the dwarf heard him over the racket of his work. “I’m back, sir.”
Rozak stopped hammering to glare at Osmark through his heavy Artificer’s goggles. “You look like something the Iron Devil ate then shat out,” the engineer remarked with a measuring look.
“That’s more accurate than you might think,” Robert said. “Can you give me a hand with some of this?” He dropped a thick bag on the deck, packed full of scraps.
Sandra had taken most of the treasure back to the inn, but Osmark had hauled the spoils of their battle with the Goliath and the Scavlings himself. With his limited strength, his inventory would only hold so much, so the rest he carried in an oversized bag Sandra had so kindly provided. His shoulders ached under the burden, and his legs wobbled with every step, burning from a combination of exhaustion and hunger.
“That’s quite a load of scrap, lad,” Rozak said as he dropped his thick leather gauntlets next to the anvil, eyeing the bundle askew. Rozak walked down, flipped back the leather flap covering the sack, and grunted in approval. “Quite a lot indeed.” Surprisingly, he bent over and slipped the bulging sack over his shoulder, as though he were carrying a bag of pillows, then scuttled into the shop.
Osmark let out a grateful sigh and followed.
Rozak hauled the load over to one of his many workbenches, deposited it on the scarred wooden surface, then hustled outside to retrieve his work and his tools. Robert used the time to unload the rest of the salvage from his inventory proper, glad to have the weight off his back. After stowing everything for the night, Rozak closed the shop and dropped the bar across the door.
