Knights of the Platinum Dragon: A D&D Story

Chapter 29: Forging Ahead

The heat of the forges, the rhythmic pounding of hammers on metal and the whirring of machines stirred a sense of comfort within Technus' body, the sensation of returning home rising into his chest. He had felt that way upon arriving within Brother Ruberix's chapel, and the feeling returned as he descended the flight of stairs from the Temple District down to here.

But the sensation was as fleeting as the wind, for it settled in that was no longer within the glorious, sanctified halls of a Turning Cog temple, but still within the city of Thalmont. And the machines here paled in comparison to those of the manufactorums he had spent countless hours within as an acolyte.

The forges at home were as large as houses; here, they were no bigger than ovens. Instead of mighty hydraulic presses slamming down to shape steel in a single unerring strike, the hammers here were grasped in the hands of smiths and carpenters, slowly beating nails into place or crudely hewing red-hot iron into a desired form. And the whirring he heard was little more than the turning of spinning wheels and the clunking of looms, worked at by women making clothes to shield their fragile organic bodies from the elements.

Technus was in the Craftsman's District of Thalmont, one of the lower districts of the city, accessed by a flight of wide stone stairs that led down from the Temple District to where the scent of incense and the chanting of choir boys were replaced as the heat of open flames and the sound of churning coals washed across his face.

The sight and sensations were glorious to behold, the blood and oil in Technus's body both bubbling with pride.

This was just as sacred to him as the chapel he had been to above; after all, tinkering and invention were sacred skills to the Order of the Turning Cog, for Erathis' domain was not just civilization, but also invention. Society could only progress with the continued development of machinery, after all, and the Turning Cog was the epitome of that belief; the logical conclusion, the doctrine fulfilled.

Sadly, until further notice, he could not meet with Brother Ruberix and discussion the quest for the meteor. The timer he had set was still ticking away in the corner of his vision, seeming to creep all the more slowly with each send that passed in a way that made his temper flare and his patience fray.

Sadly, there was nothing he could do but wait. Brother Ruberix outranked him, and unlike weak organics, Tech-Clerics did not disobey.

If one part of the machine refused to work, the entire mechanism would falter. Their mission would be compromised, its success put at risk. And it would be him held responsible.

Disobedience of the laws and doctrines was heresy. And heresy was something he would not entertain.

And so he had come to the Craftsman's District of Thalmont, where all the smiths, tailors, wheelwrights, carpenters and others who worked the hard crafts had their businesses. And to 'Fire in the Wholesale'.

As he pushed through the wooden door beneath the hanging sign, crafted from painted iron in the shape of two crossed pistols each firing a bullet, the sounds of the district faded behind him and were replaced by silence. As the latch clicked shut behind him, he scanned the room, somewhat disappointed to see nothing but a small chamber with racks of guns laid out on each of the walls, and the wooden shop counter opposite him as he entered. He also quickly realized that he was the only customer here when he heard no footprints on the floorboards, nor saw any figures obscuring his sight of the pistols, muskets, blunderbusses and other basic firearms.

That was, except for the shop's proprietor.

Sitting behind the counter, filing its clawed fingers was a tabaxi – one of the cat people – with a thick coat of grey fur, large deep purple eyes, and a tail that coiled and twisted in the air as its owner gently purred. It seemed to be gaining pleased from doing its nails, so much so that it was only when Technus strode towards him, his steps clunking on the ground, that the tabaxi looked up and hurriedly put its file away, sitting more alert as it noticed a customer.