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Engines of Obsession: Chapter 12
🕑 Added 2025-08-04 01:48:23 +0000 UTCChapter 12: Farewell to the Frontier
"So you are telling me that you failed to find out where this murderous boy was going next, failed to find out where this enigmatic woman was headed, and also have no idea if they were responsible for the assassination, because you managed to get the Watch after you?"
Turner winced, but he answered calmly, "That's about right."
Turner kept his hands on his lap, slightly away from center. The bandage at his thigh wasn't seeping blood, but no sense risking it on this expensive furniture. His arm still ached, but it was the deep thigh wound that had slowed them down, especially going cross-country to avoid the roads. After a week of healing, he still walked with a limp. Nora's stitches were still in there, but it looked to be closing up well.
Lord Byron paced back and forth, rubbing his chin. Despite his scathing review of the situation, he seemed more thoughtful than angry. Perhaps a bit brooding, from the faint frown, yet his voice was even and more curious than sharp. His butler remained nearby, watching the exchange, with some glances of distaste slipping in toward the wreckage of the machine-bug that lay on the table.
"Well," Byron began, as he finally halted his slow pacing. "We can guess that this Reginald creature will be going back to his creator, in the short term. Missing an arm, he'll need fixing. But from what you said of the shop, this 'Blakely' woman uses some sort of witchcraft to stay hidden."
Nora sighed, "Correct... but not any witchcraft I'm familiar with. This is something you hear stories about. Maybe something from before the Death."
Byron nodded, turning on his heel again. "Despite the setbacks, you've gotten a name. That's more than I had before." He frowned, "But from the sound of it, this Blakely woman is far too young to have been behind the incident that killed my brother."
By now, Milo was confident enough to speak up, since Byron seemed more interested in results than etiquette. "Maybe she is an apprentice? Or maybe she studied the original device?"
"Apprentice seems more likely," Nora replied. "Even if that girl underestimated her age, she'd still have at least a decade gap between when the incident happened and when she'd be old enough to enroll. Maybe a little less if she were a true prodigy."
Turner lifted a finger to grab attention. "That reminds me. That girl -- Gretchen? -- she also mentioned that Blakely had healed her of some old leg injury. That's a far cry from building animated puppets and machines like this."
"That's true," Byron mused. "And very strange. You said this Reginald was speaking?" He crossed his arms, deep in thought. "Perhaps she is unaware of what her creations are doing? Or perhaps she herself is not the source, but someone she works with?"
Martin, always silent until he'd thought through his words, broke in to speak. "She might help build them but not make them move. It sounds like she's an alchemist, not an engineer."
"It doesn't matter," Turner replied, which caused every head to turn toward him. "We don't know if she's innocent of willingly doing these things, or if she's behind it for some reason of her own. All we do know is she's our only real lead right now, and we don't even know where she's gone."
Turner was aware that his voice had risen steadily in his frustration, so he took a deep breath. His thigh was throbbing, aching enough that he could focus on that to try to keep his anger from rising.
"He's right," Nora said. "At least we have a name. If we can find anyone who knows her, we may be able to track down more about what's going on, or who taught her." She looked back at Martin before speaking again, "Whatever memory effect was on the town, it was powerful witchcraft. Healing the girl was powerful alchemy, as well. I also know both, but she's far greater in skill than I am."
A soft grunt from Turner, and he added, "That sort of effect is also true magic. The sort of thing I have only seen a few times in my life. I've never met anyone who could come close to something on that scale."
Byron shook his head, "I'm still not sure it was even magic. I don't believe in such things, but it would certainly have to be something... powerful. Some trick we don't understand." He dropped himself into his chair and made a gesture. The butler, quietly listening nearby, delivered a glass of some sort of wine to his hand.
"Regardless, we do have options," Byron continued. "I was reluctant to get involved before, but you have brought me irrefutable proof that this is still ongoing... and dangerous. I have a proposal for all of you, since you have come further than anyone in thirty years."
That caught Turner's attention, along with that of everyone else. Resupplying had tapped out most of their profits from the Hodgeworth trip, and the trip to Laston had been expensive. Turner knew the group was out of money again, especially after he'd scrounged up replacement bullets for him and Milo. Unless they scrapped the single automaton for the metal value, they were broke again.
Lord Byron likely knew that. Perhaps this was his way of providing aid without charity.
"I will provide you with transportation to Grunthal Academy, along with a small stipend." He began. "My family will provide you with lodging during your stay, in order to investigate matters at the Academy. Now that you have a name, well..." He sipped his wine. "Someone with that much talent had to learn it somewhere. Even if they did not study at the Academy, it is likely someone there is aware of where they could learn this much."
The room went silent. Milo and Martin exchanged uncertain looks, while Turner shot a glance toward Nora. The woman was tight-lipped, her jaw clenched, but she relaxed after a short breath.
"That would seem to be the most likely place to find information," Nora agreed, cautiously. "You don't have anyone in the Academy to find this yourself?"
Byron didn't miss the tension Nora showed. "Is this a problem? It is my understanding that you left the Academy on... perhaps not good terms, but not bad ones. Am I wrong, Miss Graves?" He switched his wine glass to his left hand and used the right to rub his chin.
"As for having people there -- of course I do." He shook his head, "But making some official inquiries as someone of my position would draw attention to the investigation. If, as you guess, this has something to do with the assassination in Laston, there may be political elements at play. It not only would put my family in jeopardy, it would also put anyone watching on alert."
Nora nodded her head reluctantly, "That is true. If they heard you were making formal inquiries they might panic. So you work through us, because I know the people at the Academy, is that it?" She grimaced. "It's true I didn't leave on bad terms, but it is an unpleasant memory. It should be fine. I know I made a few people angry by running off, but it has been nearly three years."
Milo opened his mouth... then thought better of it, and snapped it closed. In front of a client was not the place to ask questions like this. He quickly thought of another and clumsily slid it in. Turner could tell it was a quick save so he didn't look bad. Byron probably could tell, too. "Would it be better if we went in without you?"
Nora smiled, faint amusement even catching in her eyes. "No, no... you've improved your reading greatly, but it will take more than that. Speaking to academics is very different. You will need me there. Even if they're still angry, we can likely get what we need, if it's there at all."
Byron cleared his throat. "Yes. However, I do have other matters to attend to." He gestured to the box that had been brought in. "Also, you should take the remnants, both arm and device, with you. I will see to it they are secured for transport. Nikandros will be in touch to provide you with tickets, as well as pay for lodging. I have no doubt that this task has depleted your funds... and if you cannot sell the automaton, you will need some compensation."
"Sir," Nikandros began. Byron gestured to silence the protest.
"No, no. They did me a great favor," he pointed out. "While the mystery is far from solved, I now, for the first time, have hope that my brother's death will have some sense to it. Surely you cannot object to some compensation for that?"
Nikandros paused, then sighed. "Of course not. I shall see to it. I presume you would like discretion in this matter?"
Lord Byron snapped his fingers. "Ah! Yes, and not just from you." He nodded to Turner and the others. "Please, keep my involvement in this quiet, if at all possible. If you absolutely need my name to find out something, I leave it to the discretion of Mister Turner here."
Turner startled, pointing to himself. "Me? I am flattered, my Lord, but are you certain?" That earned him a dirty look from Nora, but it would be best if Turner double-checked.
Byron laughed, "Of course! Your cautious nature is quite famous in this city, I've found. You want to stay out of trouble. If you need my name, the situation must be truly dire, yes?"
Turner couldn't argue with that. His face heated up, but he merely nodded. "Ah... yes, of course." His thigh throbbed again, a reminder that he was in more danger than ever before. It wasn't the worst injury he'd ever received, but certainly the worst in the last few years.
Nikandros stepped forward, "Very well. Shall I show you out?" It really wasn't a request. Turner, for once, was all too ready to go.
Sparston was the last stop for the train before it would head back east, so it did not receive daily stops. Despite Byron's influence, it was another five days before Turner and the others could schedule the trip.
Turner's thigh wound was still tender and healing. Nora's medicine wasn't magic, just very good alchemy and knowledge. She'd stopped using expensive honey once the wound closed and the stitches came out, but a light herbal paste kept the pain to a minimum. It would scar, but lightly. The limp would last a few more weeks, but at least he wouldn't be riding the train with stitches.
"It's so much metal..." Milo blurted out, interrupting Turner's thoughts. The two hunters were staring at the behemoth of a train engine. Even from several cars away, it was an impressive sight. A massive bulk of wrought iron and steel, hissing and belching smoke and steam as the engine idled.
Nora chuckled, "Steel and forged iron are much more common out east." She gestured to Turner. "Turner here knows much more about that than I do, but I know they have massive foundries for it. Even the forges in this city are small in comparison."
Turner walked up to join the two brothers and Nora, nodding. "They import iron and coal from all over, but mostly from the 'Ore Mountain' of the East. The region is rich in iron and coal, so they've built massive furnaces." He grinned, "I'm not a blacksmith, so I don't know the details, but good steel is a lot easier to get once we hit the northeast. Might even be able to give your rifle a good checkup."
Martin grumbled, "I hear the folks out there don't look kindly on us from the frontier."
Nora put a hand on his shoulder. "It depends, but you're already quiet enough that it won't matter." She looked at Milo, then back to Martin. "Even if you speak up, your accent isn't very strong. As long as you follow our lead and don't do anything too strange to them, it will be fine. I look much more exotic out here than in the city."
Turner chuckled and hefted his bag up. Clinker was staying behind, in Lord Byron's stables, so the group had to handle their own luggage. One large trunk in the baggage car handled everything they didn't carry.
"You'll be fine. The city is busy and you'll probably feel cramped, but it's the smell that gets to you," Turner reassured them. "You'll be more uncomfortable there than they will be with you. Most people there will leave you alone if you don't get in their way. It's the Academy I'm worried about."
Milo now turned his head, curious. "Isn't it basically like Findral Academy here?" He gestured to the north part of the city, where the tall spire of the bell tower dominated the skyline.
Turner shook his head. "No. Findral Academy is... it's basically like a training camp for handling yourself on the frontier. They teach a lot of what you two already knew as hunters, or have picked up traveling with us. Just more standardized, I guess."
"They also teach reading and writing," Nora pointed out. "And mathematics, but only for accountants. It's an expanding school. But Grunthal is different. They're both called Academies, but Grunthal is more appropriately called a University now."
Milo frowned in confusion, "What's the difference?"
Nora put on her lecturing tone, "The Academy focuses more on pragmatic solutions. The University is a collection of schools -- often in competition for funding -- that offer a mix of practical skills and the theoretical ideas that move civilization forward. Many of their ideas are impossible, or even pointless to the common man, but will eventually provide an insight that the more practical schools can use."
Turner snorted, "Practical skills for living in the city, not for out here. They teach dueling, not fighting, for example." He shrugged, "But some of what they teach is useful. Look at Nora here."
"True," Nora allowed. "But that is what lets the cities grow. I learned my witchcraft from my aunt, not the University... they don't teach anything directly like that. They do have an Alchemy school, that's where I went. And that's where we'll be checking first. It's the closest thing to magic they teach there, but it's in fierce competition with the Chemistry department."
Milo had a blank look now, and Martin had long ago lost interest in the technical details. So Nora clarified, "Chemistry is the science of understanding what things are made of and how they interact. Alchemy is the science of understanding what materials do, and how their properties can be drawn out. It's a subtle difference, but important, because neither has managed to copy the other entirely. Something in how they work makes them do different things with the same materials."
Finally, it clicked with Milo. "Oh... so you're saying Alchemy is more like a... what did you call it? A practical magic? And chemistry is not? Or is another kind of magic?" He was having trouble grasping it, but Milo was a smart and reasonable man.
Turner shrugged and answered now. "Something like that. Chemistry is seen as science... if you do it following the instructions, it works the same every time. Alchemy is still more mysterious. For some reason, two people doing the same thing can get a different result."
"Not quite," Nora corrected. "They get similar results, but the potency and scale are different. A less talented alchemist may even fail where a talented one succeeds, even if they follow the same procedure." She shook her head. "There's some element to it that hasn't been pinned down yet. Maybe it's just a science we don't fully understand yet."
The train's whistle blew, and Turner clapped Milo on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I learned a little from Nora, but most of this stuff? We don't need to understand it. Just follow her lead and you'll be fine."
Turner hoped that would be true.
