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Yole was an artificer, a known
master of magic and machines. His modest workshop in the mountains was an open
secret among his former peers. He was known to hide there for months or even
years on end, rarely coming down to share his findings, and even more rarely
allowing visitors. That was the case until recently, as he hadn’t been seen in a little over half
a decade.
Wilson was a fresh out school
rookie, nothing more than an errand boy for his superiors at this point. He may
have graduated from the same artificer academy as Yole, but he was nowhere near
as renowned or respected. He hoped that would change soon.
“Just around the bend, I believe,”
Wilson mumbled as he climbed the mountain where Yole’s workshop was hidden. The
secluded location was revealed to him recently, along with the simple task of
checking on Yole’s condition. It was not the most important job, but Wilson
hoped the old master would have some pointers and advice for him.
“Will the old man even give me the
time of day?” Wilson wondered in concern. In truth, all he needed to do was
confirm Yole’s health and progress, idle chatter was secondary. “At the very
least, I can brag about meeting him to my friends,” he assured himself as the
modest building came into view.
The workshop wasn’t much to look at,
but Wilson rationalized that was the point. Nestled beneath a ridge and set of
oak trees, the wooden structure looked no more exciting than a hunter’s cabin
at first glance. However, the metal accents and the fact the house wasn’t so
much built next to the ridge but built into it betrayed its real function.
Wilson quickly knocked on the door,
but he received no response. Repeated attempts produced the same result, not
even a grumpy reply or angry threat. Concern mounted for the rookie, uncertain
of what to make of the situation.
“Considering his reputation, I doubt
Yole is one to leave his workshop often,” Wilson considered, “Is he out for a
stroll? Asleep?” The young man checked the door’s handle, and sure enough, it
was locked tight. Usually, a lock would be no problem for any artificer;
however, this was the door to Yole’s home. Obviously, one of Wilson’s skills
would struggle to open such a door, which was likely protected by an intricate
locking mechanism. Yet, the door opened with the application of a simple lock
picking device.
“I would expect better from Yole,”
Wilson shrugged as he opened the door. “To be fair, only his close associates
know where he lives, so I guess he doesn’t feel the need.” Wilson trudged
inside the darkened home, an odd smell assaulted his nose. “Burnt out candles?
Mold?” Wilson guessed at the stench, “not quite either.”
The rookie navigated the compact
workshop, cluttered with machinery, both whole and in pieces. It was slow
going, and the building seemed to stretch on forever, but Wilson persisted. He
found his way to the far side of the structure, marked with a series of windows
covered by curtains. The rookie opened the curtains out of instinct. Light to
trickled into the room and revealed a beautiful view of the mountainside.
“Lovely, but where is Yole?” Wilson
scanned the room, “You would think I would notice-” The young man’s gaze
stopped dead in place, he found what he was looking for. Across the room, in a cleaned
out corner, was an old man in a chair, with a ragged gray beard, a prosthetic
arm, and eye. His eyes were open, but his body remained unmoving, not even a
sign of breath. More shockingly was his companion, Yole’s metal right hand was
locked in an embrace with another equally artificial limb.
Seated in its own chair, was a
complete mechanical being, with a feminine shape and visage, but still wholly
artificial. The construct was seemingly pieced together from various prosthetic
limbs attached to a torso, with a smooth head placed on top. The face looked
almost human. A perfectly carved simulacrum of a young woman’s face betrayed
only by its metallic hue.
Wilson approached cautiously, his
skin crawling from the presence of the dead body and the machine straight out
of the uncanny valley. Upon closer inspection, he spotted a piece of paper
clutched in Yole’s left hand. With great care, the young man pried the
parchment from the elder’s hand and read what was written.
“I will bring her back,” the note
began and repeated relentlessly until the very end. Wilson’s eyes almost glazed
over reading the repeated words until he spotted a difference in the very last
line. “I brought her back.”
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It's always the simplest most mundane tasks that uncover startling truths.Be sure to read the previous stories in this loose series, Loved and Yearning.
Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy
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