South-Eastern Mainland, Varnhollow—a strange place, even by Ash Company's standards.
Varnhollow wasn't built on the land. It was carved into it—an entire society nestled in the hills, tunnels coiling like a burrower's nest. Trade flowed beneath the earth, lit by phosphor lanterns and glowing sigils etched into rock. The scent of iron, coal, and old oil hung in the air like a blanket, heavy and familiar.
"Well, we're here," said Prowler, turning on his heel. "Now, about the payment."
Fornos didn't speak. Instead, he produced a gemstone from his coat—a sun-red prism, polished and dense with mana. Without a word, he tossed it underhand to Prowler, who caught it with one hand and grinned.
"Thank you for your patronage, Black Mask." He gestured to his crew, and they began boarding the golem engine, now emptied of Ash Company personnel and supplies.
The massive train hissed, engines purring like beasts soothed by fire, and within minutes, it rumbled out of sight, swallowed by the tunnel systems of Varnhollow.
Ash Company stood in the half-light of the underground station. Twenty-five golems—among them, Thornjaw, Craterhoof, Kindling, and the twin Aegis units—waited idly beside crates of food, barrels of oil, and tool-covered wagons.
"So... why are we here?" Roa broke the silence.
"You were all so dazed from the ride I thought you'd forgotten how to speak," Fornos replied. His voice was teasing, but the edge of impatience was there. "But to answer your question—this is where I made my first team. Before Ash Company. A group made for one specific purpose: golem construction."
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Wait. Then what about me?"
"You're our field engineer," Fornos said, turning to him. "Your job is to make sure our mobile units stay functional during operations, and to handle fortifications as we move. These people? They're for building golems. From nothing."
As he spoke, Fornos reached into his coat and produced a small whistle—an odd thing of twisted bronze with three holes.
He blew into it.
The sound was like a jagged knife on the ear, shrill and bone-rattling. Several of the children clutched their ears; even the handlers flinched. A few golems twitched slightly, though none activated.
Moments later, footsteps echoed from one of the side tunnels—a young man sprinted into view. He skidded to a stop, panting slightly, then straightened and began to recite a poem in a clear, rehearsed tone:
"Through stone and flame, from root to sky,
The mask walks silent, but the forge won't lie..."
Fornos stepped forward and finished it:
"…so open the gate, and mind the eye."
The man smiled brightly, then bowed. "Welcome, sir. Master has been waiting for your arrival."
He turned, gesturing for them to follow. They moved through tunnels that grew narrower, warmer, and more metal-laced the deeper they went. The stone turned from rough-cut to chisel-marked, and eventually to fully reinforced iron corridors, etched with rune-paths and scrawled blueprints pinned right into the walls.
They finally arrived in a dome-shaped cavern, its walls carved smooth, with machinery half-buried into the stone. Dozens of incomplete golems lay in rows—some missing limbs, others just shells of bronze and brass. In the center was a workshop stitched together from scrap, tarps, and over-engineered scaffolding.
A sign above the entrance read: The Iron Shop.
"Konos," Fornos said.
A distant clatter was followed by a loud curse and the sound of someone tumbling over a crate. Then, a figure emerged from behind a stack of gears and rolled blueprints.
He was an old man, maybe late sixties or early seventies, with a beard that looked like it had been soaked in grease and never forgiven him. His goggles rested crooked on his forehead—one lens cracked, the other tinted green. He wore an absurdly oversized coat patched together from fireproof fabric, blacksmith aprons, and bits of golem plating.
"By the gods, you're actually here!" the man shouted. "Still got the same eyes. Master Fornos! You came. You brought them all. And—wait! Is that Kindling back there?"
Fornos groaned. "Shit."
He turned around and waved his arms frantically at the others. "Everyone forget what he just said. Now."
But it was too late.
"Wait, your name is Fornos?" Roa tilted her head, grinning.
"Well," Peter said, arms crossed, "at least now we won't have to call you 'sir' or 'you' anymore."
Even Martin chuckled, and the kids immediately started whispering the name Fornos to one another like it was a forbidden word that had just been set free.
Fornos shot Konos a glare.
"Didn't I specifically instruct your team not to refer to me by name when I'm in the mask?"
Konos blinked, then looked confused. "Oh... right. You did. I just—got excited. You never come down here in person. And Kindling! She's still functional?"
"She's one of our best," Peter answered, clearly taking the opportunity to insert himself as chief engineer.
Konos ignored him and marched straight past, putting a hand gently on Kindling's arm. The golem shivered under his touch—just faint enough for Peter to notice.
"She remembers me," Konos said, smiling. "We built her with personality anchors. Can't fake a response like that."
Peter frowned. "I thought I was the only one allowed to do field tuning."
"You're the field guy," Konos said dismissively. "I'm the core structure guy. Big difference."
Roa leaned toward Martin. "I like this guy already."
Martin shrugged. "He's like someone threw Peter in a furnace and made him nicer."
Konos turned back to Fornos. "So... what's the plan? Just a check-in? Or are we finally building something bigger?"
Fornos paused. "Both. I've got a new objective. One that needs more than just endurance golems and field units."
Konos' eyes gleamed behind his cracked goggles. "Then we're gonna need more hands. And I've got just the crew."
"Your disciples still around?" Fornos asked.
"They're still dumb," Konos said, grinning, "but willing. That's good enough."
Fornos turned to the rest of Ash Company. "We'll be here for a few days. Refit. Resupply. Some of you will assist Konos. The rest—scouting assignments will be handed out tomorrow."
As the group began to disperse, Peter approached Kindling and placed a hand on her side, whispering something. The golem made a low humming sound, calm and warm.
Konos chuckled. "Tuning her again? Careful. She might start liking me more."
Peter gave him a look. "She already does."