Chapter 124: Artist’s Fugue.

The town storehouse was not in the best of shape. Despite showing clear signs of being refurbished with its windows and doors wide open to allow the place to air out. Even then, it stank. Whatever had been inside had long rotted away.

Not to mention, even with a helpful dab of whatever magic was available or means, it did little to cover up the obvious cracks or the signs of rotting wood.

I did not envy whoever it was that had to empty this place, let alone clean it. Even still, after all the work they did, the smell lingered. A stuffiness in the air that couldn’t quite be ignored. Luckily, I didn’t need to stay inside the building.

With the help of my knights and soldiers, maneuvering the slabs of stone outside wasn’t much of an issue. There was a small area, likely where carts had once come and went, almost like an old-fashioned parking lot. It was overgrown, with weeds here and there, but still it served.

As the slabs were placed down, they sunk into the soft ground before finally settling. Once all of them were placed outside and arrayed for my inspection, I finally took the chance to properly assess them. They weren’t rush jobs, nothing like the slabs Terra had made for me during the second event. They were sturdier and testified to Terra’s growth.

I had half a mind to run her down and see just how much she had developed. But she was apparently busy with modernizing the town, that, and I had my own task to do. Admittedly, her task seemed more important. Just putting in simple plumbing would make her a god in my eyes.

As it was, Terra worked for a construction company back in the city, according to her. Which hopefully meant she knew what she was doing. And it helped that her magic was well suited to digging the earth. Though, how they were going to get flowing water and make it work was a whole other issue. An issue I needn’t bother myself with.

The tools Lance gave me were notable. They felt good in my hands, clearly made with quality in mind. They were made of metal, but when I held them in hand, I could almost feel their desire to be used. And, somehow, it almost seemed like they greedily slurped up the magic that radiated out from my being. Which was an additional oddity.

A few testing blows saw that they were devilishly sharp. Capable of shearing away stone like it was butter. It gave me ideas, but ultimately, the question was, what exactly did I want from this? Rather, a more appropriate question, a more artistic question would be, what did the slab want to be?

The answer was obvious. It wanted a form. It wanted to be. Nothing special about that per se. The only issue was, could I meet its expectations?

With a vague idea of what I wanted, I began. My bolstered sculpting talent, helping along the way, but I was already beginning to feel the limits of it. Back during the second event, I had clearly plumbed those depths to their limit. The seemingly endless inspiration that had fed into me was running dry. And for the first time, as I worked, I found myself stumped.

Eventually, an answer came from an unexpected source. My talent for dance. A talent that proved to have far more breadth than I had originally thought. From how I walk, to how I breathe, to every little thing.

Most of it, wasn’t worth much. Just a rehashing of my etiquette training from when I was a child. Some of it, was worth more than I gave it credit.

Ever since arriving in this city and gaining my new form. It was never really a concern, no, I’d never really given it much thought. I shifted my posture, how I moved. Most of it was instinctual, my own talent coming to the fore, my own knowledge.

Still, there were inconsistencies in my gait, how I moved. It mostly came out when wearing a suit. It was a psychological thing, I’m sure. A subtle shift in mood and attitude that made me appear more masculine, closer to how I had been.

I’d hardly noticed it, but there had been comments, which made me reconsider what I thought I knew. My new talent didn’t just help me to better fit into my role, but also, as strange as it sounds, it gave me a sense for how I was presenting myself.

It was slow, but sure. Yet, it was only on reflection that it came out. I’m better at reading body language, subtleties. I was already good before, but now it was getting to an interesting, almost prophetic new sense.

Even still, I was learning by the day. An endless supply of small inspirations here and there, slowly feeding me information that just came oh so naturally. Which is why, now, standing before the blank slab, I began to think of the task before me as something else.

I thought less of it as simply a task, but as more of something else. As a precursor to a grander stage.

How they were made, the intent put into them mattered. This showed with Fathom, with Estrella, Luna, and even with Cobalt. Each had a different personality, befitting their original purpose.

With those thoughts in mind, I knew immediately how I was used to doing things wouldn’t work. Simply hammering away without care, nor concern, desiring to simply shave it down to size was not the intent I needed. No, there had to be flair, panache. Within the first few strikes though; I couldn’t help but curse.

This wouldn’t work. The slab was ruined. Even if there was plenty left, it felt tainted, wrong.

With a click of my tongue, I had it set aside. A new one was placed in front of me. I barely needed a moment before I started chipping away.

I had nothing but time. Time to experiment, to grow, and mostly, to distract myself. Something to focus on, lose myself in, instead of considering the colossal failure my talk with Liche had been. Or rather, what it was that possessed me to what I did. To reveal my darkest secrets and for what?

That Liche was missing, that Joan wasn’t immediately available had my teeth itching. An uncomfortable weight settled on my shoulders, a burden that seemed to say, that Liche, now knowing who, what I was… Would abandon me.

Only through expression of my talents could those thoughts be scoured away. Perhaps what they say about tortured artists was true. For in my desire to escape, it bled into my work.

In the end, the product came out wrong. A mangled mess. One I couldn’t begin to tell head from toe. It felt like, I’d taken a huge step back. Like I was once again learning to crawl, when I had been walking.

It was frustrating, and yet, something whispered, told me that I was on the right path. So, with grit teeth, I progressed.

“Bring another.” And so, another was brought forward. Another ruined. And so it went, up until night fell.

Tired, and yet, brimming with energy, I wanted nothing more than to push on, and yet, somehow, in the span of a single evening I had ruined almost every slab in the storehouse. The few that were left made me realize, that even if I wanted to press on, that it was no longer an option.

Chagrined, I made my way back to the inn, leaving my soldiers to clean up the mess.

I had dinner with Diana, as promised. I made my request for more slabs, and she didn’t seem to mind.

I also was further informed as to what was going on. Rather, that Faust and Tera had found traces of the ley line. Ley lines were comparable to veins in the human body, with major vessels or organs being the places of power where they all intersect. Some would call those dragon veins, and not just mere ley lines, but I wasn’t well versed in all that, nor did I really care.

What I did care for, is that by finding traces of those minor veins, they would be able to trace them to the major arteries, and eventually civilization or the center of this realm. She continued to explain that where we were, could be considered as something like the end of a river, a kind of tributary. With the whole realm essentially being a basin, or large self-contained river.

Only, now like a tapped keg, what was inside was now steadily streaming out. The flow was steady, sure, enough to siphon off for arrays and such, but only just. Not enough for any major workings. But the flow of energy made it easy to follow to their origin points.

There was additional speculation, that at least we’d maintain functions for far longer compared to the rest of the realm, granting us an advantage if we were to simply sit by and wait. As we’d be downhill, whereas everywhere at the top would empty first. An option that held some allure, if not for the unknown threat we may face. After all, we had no idea what might happen if the realm ran dry.

On the other hand, it was entirely possible that the denizens of this realm would recognize the leak for what it was and attempt to stopper the flow. Whether or not they could mattered little, but it did put us in an awkward position for when they do notice us.

Consequently, if we could follow the flow up stream to them, they could very much do the same to us. Which is why Diana wanted me to bolster the defenses, so that larger groups could head out and attempt to inspect the surrounding regions. After all, it was unlikely they’d be happy to see squatters sitting on a breach in their realm. A breach that may very well spell its end.

Ultimately though, it was clear we were on a timer. Not just that, but there was a lot more to consider than just the end of the realm. Waiting for the realm to run dry had benefits, as it gave us an advantage, weakened the residents, and made our jobs easier. It would also make it harder to come to a peaceful resolution, especially if we waited till the last minute to give our offer.

If we made a move too soon, we’d have to face the residents of this realm at their best, at the same time, without them being desperate, they may not resort to drastic actions.

It wasn’t an easy problem. And it reaffirmed my decision to let Diana take over. I wasn’t exactly in the right headspace for coordinating people, nor did I have the proper skillset to lead. Not yet. Especially when the executive’s lessons were still branded into my mind.

As of right now, I was just a tool. A weapon. And what I really needed was time to readjust and find my own way. So that I could learn to wield myself and not be wielded by others.

Our talks done, we split. With morning, I came to find a slew of new slabs in the storehouse. And once again, I spent the day cutting and carving into stone. Only stopping briefly to consider my growing mountain of failures over lunch.

With night, I reconvened with Diana, requesting more stone.

This cycle continued for a few days, eventually, Terra herself met me at the storehouse one morning.

“Hey-ho!” She shouted out on seeing me. “I wanted to see what you were up to, after all, I’ve been making all these slabs. I think I’m entitled to know why it is you need so many.”

“I don’t mind. As to why I need so many, well, I had an epiphany.” I answered her. She didn’t argue, but she sat and watched me work for about half the day, citing she was taking a break from all the work she was doing.

I didn’t mind it. We talked about this and that while I worked. She even went ahead and made more slabs while she was idling, allowing me to up my work pace.

“You sure your improving? Honestly, it almost looks like you’re getting worse.”

“It’s a process… admittedly, I’m not sure myself, but something keeps telling me I’m on the right track.” Was all I could say in my defense.

In the end, she simply shrugged and continued. After we had lunch together, she left, leaving me to my work.

A whole week passed, at least, before something… clicked. It wasn’t momentous really, the final product was still a failure. But, something about this particular project, felt different.

Out of the stone slab, a soldier was coming into being. The face, the hair, the eyes, all the way down to the shoulders. I’d started on the arms when the mistake was made, when the piece needed to be discarded. Yet…

It was uncanny. How the soldier looked. With every rendition, that uncanniness grew. That feeling inside me swelled like a key being slotted into a lock, a very frustrating lock that needed to have the key jiggled and twisted, so that it could fit in just right.

The moment it fully slotted in, it all came together. After a little over a week’s worth of time, I had a statue. It was still rough around the edges. Angles were a bit too sharp, proportions not quite right, and the center of gravity was just slightly off.

It was minuscule, but staring at the statue before me, it made sense. What was before me wasn’t a hastily constructed statue made of stone, no. It was almost as if a person was standing before me, with gray skin, blank eyes.

I forewent making armor, or anything fancy. Knowing that armor was going to be made for them. They were nude, but tastefully so. The muscles, the framework of the body, almost like they were wearing a skinsuit. A statue almost fitting for the Greeks.

I ran my fingers along its arm, wincing as I felt the roughness of the stone. A clear sign of my own failure, but… I wasn’t ready to throw out a finished product over a minor annoyance.

With a breath, I started the process. Placing my hand over their chest, I let my magic flow into the stone. Frost crackled into being, coating its form as my magic etched itself into its body. Line by line, with the chest, where a human’s heart would be, being the epicenter.

I went slowly, deliberately. Not wanting to mess this up. Not at all. Not at this juncture. I spent the better part of the day with my eyes screwed shut, a hand on its chest, slowly working away. It was deep into the night when I finally finished the last line.

In that moment, there was a small sound, a small, almost imperceptible zap as the magic began to flow from the core to all its veins. I stepped back, as the core slowly came into being, as ambient energy was slowly sucked in, feeding into the construct.

There was a subtle change as the stone shifted, changed. A shift as magic flowed through veins into stone, almost like blood into flesh. A light ripple ran through the statue, a flex of fingers, toes. A roll of its shoulders, a shift of its neck, the blinking of eyes.

It felt almost alive as its chest seemingly moved when it took in a breath, exhaling dust and impure energy. Every cycle that worked through the soldier further refining them. Improving them.

It took, what felt like forever for the process to finish. The soldier, the familiar, on being complete, took the chance to take themselves in. A startling light gleamed in their eyes, as they looked at their hands, their form.

Only to then take in its surroundings. Seeing my other soldiers, my knights standing by, and when its eyes settled on me, it kneeled.

I immediately felt the connection between us. It was strong, the donated piece of soul I gave growing, thriving on all the attention I gave in its construction. In a matter of moments, it was clear, this soldier was well and beyond anything else I had ever made.

“Stand.” I commanded, and so they did. They stood, unabashed of their form, unconcerned for anything else, save for my undivided attention. It almost preened under my scrutiny. My own growing desire to be seen, seemingly rubbing off on my newest subordinate.

A part of me considered giving him a name. Yet, the truth wasn’t so kind. This soldier, was disposable. A mere tool to serve. Even then, knowing that, sensing those thoughts, the soldier only returned an acknowledgement, and pride over our link.

In a way, it was because I was their parent… a mother… perhaps… though, the thought of such a thing still strikes me as odd despite my resolutions. In another, it was because I was their creator, a being almost akin to a god.

It makes me consider older stories, of Frankenstein’s monster. Of an older myth of a craftsmen that made a statue and wished it to be real. Was this so different?

I suppose not, though, whether or not my creations turn on me, is entirely dependent on how I treat them. After all, even if they think me a god, even gods can be usurped.

It was late, my stomach growled, but… I had many more slabs. And my own hands itched to keep working, even under the moonlight, so I worked.

Come morning, another was finished. A feverish energy had taken over as I worked without pause, without break. Only stopping briefly as the slabs ran out to head to the inn, wolf down a meal, and demand more.

Terra came by and watched in fascination as I worked. As each new soldier came out better and better…

“It’s almost like they’re alive…” She said in awe as I finished my latest one. I was focused on making them, not animating them. Once they were done, I could focus on etching them one by one, until they’re all ready.

I ignored her as I worked. Stone was shorn away, slabs beat down into the shape of men and women of various heights and sizes. They were not uniform, not at all. The inconsistencies, the minor issues went away as the range of what I could do grew.

I let those thoughts whisper in my head, guiding my hands. Letting the spark ignite my potential, turning it into a raging fire.

Day and night I worked and worked. Never quite satisfied, never quite done. Each new statue, closer to my ideal, closer to what I envisioned.

My work, did not go unnoticed. People came, visited, the crows above gathered in number, watching with curious eyes. Worried faces gathered to see me work, to try and dissuade me, but the fire was too strong. The need to press on too much.

In the end, they sat back and watched, marveled at my progress.

Until finally, on the third day, A final strike of my hammer rang out through the space. I stared at the finished statue. It was almost alive, not just standing their but perfectly balanced on one leg, almost like a ballerina posing for a show.

It looked too precarious, like an errant breeze or touch would send it hurtling to the floor, and yet, that was not the case. It was solid, it would take a hefty push to topple it. It was the culmination of everything.

I felt empty. My potential, wholly and fully burnt away. Tools fell from my grasp as I meandered back to the inn. Without pause, without hesitation, I climbed the stairs and went to my room, where I promptly collapsed into bed.

Even before my body hit the bed, I was fast asleep.