Chapter 86: Revolution!
Inside the clocktower, the air was warm and smelled of cedar, oil, and ozone. The walls were lined with thousands of ticking clocks, creating a rhythmic, hypnotic hum that seemed to mask any conversation from the outside world.
Grandmaster Brokk hobbled over to a workbench, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. He didn’t offer them tea. He offered them a glare.
"So," Brokk grunted, his mechanical eye zooming in on Damien with a whir. "You’re the human who made a scene at the gate."
"News travels fast," Damien noted, leaning against a stack of gears, his Will Armament humming faintly to shield him from the ambient mana pressure of the workshop.
"I have taps on the border gate scanners," Brokk tapped his metal temple. "I heard the audio log. The Prince asked if you could hold a wrench."
Brokk spat into a metal bucket.
"But holding a wrench doesn’t make you an engineer, boy. Do you even know what an Artificer is?"
He picked up a small, lifeless mechanical bird from the table and held it up.
"In the human lands, you categorize power into Combat and Support. You think Blacksmiths just hit metal and Alchemists just mix potions. But the Dwarves know better."
Brokk’s eyes gleamed with a fanatic pride.
"A Blacksmith forges the body. An Alchemist brews the fuel. But an Artificer? We breathe the soul."
He injected a tiny pulse of mana into the bird. It didn’t just move; it snapped to life, chirping and fluttering its wings with a fluidity that looked alive.