The keen whirr of disk blades joined the incessant pounding of hammers. Gangly-looking frames, wide-shouldered and heavy-legged mockeries of human anatomy, went through a conveyor belt. Another process awaited these skeletons: motors and gears for moving parts, an arrowhead-shaped box that housed the machines' energy source, and the head unit with crystals that would serve as their eyes.

  Behind these were steel pieces that passed through lanes. Metalworkers shaped them into angled and curved forms, which were placed on another series of conveyor belts. Finished pieces passed through lanes of crystal needles that fired prismatic light strands. These treated parts glowed in transient hues of blue and orange; their brilliance long turned into cold smoke by the time workers from the other end of the belts took them.

  Awaiting metal frames received their armor pieces from their flared feet to the characteristic insectoid head that topped the process. These finished constructs were lifted out of assembly by pulleys, made to stand still until the mechanics and artificers received orders on what paint to use and weapons to install on them.

  It was the usual trip to the machinists before an operation for the Gray Fox. There was a faint smell of paint that mingled with the smoke of metal being cut at the time. Metal being shaped and deformed drowns practically every other noise, but the crime lord came prepared with a pair of earplugs to dampen the overwhelming cacophony. So much was being done on that day that the attendants did not notice him passing by, though he received nods from the more observant supervisors whose ear protection made them practically deaf.

  The Gray Fox mused at the thought of adding specialized automatons to his production teams. Workers could not be expected to duplicate every detail with exact finesse. If constructs could be used to ramp up assembly, then he could quickly expand to more consistent exports, especially when revolutionary groups had been on the rise outside the Empire. It would take years and many failed prototypes to arrive at an optimal build, but time was not something he had the luxury of spending at his current stage.

  Doctor Hollegrehenn was inside one of the testing rooms. A new version of the Class 64, the crime lord thought. It had the same upper body, but it stood on a four-legged platform: a mantis stripped of claws. There were no weapons installed on its manipulators; on its shoulder was an attachment that resembled a broadsword's sheath more than a third of the machine's height. It was connected to a storage tank-like apparatus on its back.

  "An interesting modification you have there, Doctor Hollegrehenn."

  "Just in time, Doctor." Hollegrehenn stood up from the machine's control apparatus. It had the size of a radio backpack, but it was a screen with a device that connected a crystal ball through a thick cable. "This is my Class-64, Model HM."

  "Model HM?"

  "Of course, Doctor. Can stand for High Mobility or... Heavy Munitions, if you prefer, Doctor."

  "I would say High Mobility suits this better, on account of its legs."

  "Perhaps, but here's its weapon demonstration."

  Hollegrehenn returned to the construct's control device. Some buttons pressed, and a few flicked levers caused the scabbard-like attachment to split into four sections, revealing a spear tip-like crystal with a crackling yellow glow. All four legs dug into the floor; a surge of energy formed a searing ball of lightning. The chief machinist chose not to discharge the weapon and cut the energy flow. Small, electrifying forks forced out of the weapon before the protective metal layer hid the charged crystal from view.

  "Pardon if I stopped the model from firing at all." Hollegrehenn tapped down on a few levers on his console. "The amount of static this weapon produces is yet to be adjusted to be safe. There is not enough space in this room to keep the control unit protected from unneeded electrical discharge."

  "Interesting. How many of these... units can you assemble?"

  "That reactor technology you have rediscovered made producing these easier." Hollegrehenn went beside the Gray Fox. "I can safely provide up to eight units based on our current material and tooling."

  "That would be enough for the upcoming operation." The crime lord approached the idling machine and looked at the weapon system up close. "How many shots can this weapon fire before depleting its energy store?"

  "This cannon mechanism can unleash up to ten seconds of a single continuous volley, but it can fire a chain of up to twenty-four short bursts... when fully charged."

  The Gray Fox nodded before turning his back on the inert mechanism; he kept a steady face as he walked his way out of the testing room. He gestured Hollegrehenn to follow him. They toured another output end of the assembly line, where the newly made battle machines were fitted with the same gun they used during the Altrecht incursion. The barrel was shorter while the fighting machines kept the same length of the crystal spike. One of the workers attached a drum-shaped magazine under the weapon. A self-reloading function was added to these automatons; another redesign of the gun would be suggested to ensure the machines can resume action without their aim resetting in the heat of battle. They stopped before a crew of six who were arming the constructs. The Gray Fox asked:

  "We made adjustments to the Imperial guns compared to the last time, yes?"

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  "My men made certain that these guns are more than capable of using the drum magazines." Hollegrehenn took one of the ammunition carriers to inspect. "Two hundred fifty rounds each, and the machines carry up to five magazines."

  "I expected them to carry more than that."

  The Gray Fox examined the machines; their armor felt heavier than before, and this was due to changes in the hydraulics to accommodate the added weight. He looked down and saw that half-dome feet of the previous iterations were replaced with wider and more articulated ellipsoid versions. He found no space between the floor and the new construct batch's limbs.

  "There were... last-minute changes, Doctor." Hollegrehenn knocked his hand on the machine's ironclad arm. "We are yet to develop armor layers that attain advantages in both weight and durability. The targeting systems should compensate for fewer bullets."

  "All this, for enemies we do not know if they're still alive." The crime lord looked at the exit from the production facility. "I should leave you to your work. Let me have a word with Mister Norton if there are any... needed changes. Before I go, those HM units you've shown me. Make sure all eight of them are ready in ten days."

  "Ah, o-of course, yes, Doctor."

  Doctor Hollegrehenn stayed behind and returned to the crew in charge of arming the machines. Blinking twice, the master machinist stared at the constructs; his eyes shifted back to the Gray Fox, whose back vanished when the door of the metalworks area snapped shut.

  The crime lord left the production area and spotted the familiar green glow. He was meeting the right people at unexpected times: saved him minutes to come up with a meeting, the Gray Fox thought.

  "Just the man I need."

  "Master. Good to see you've been around."

  "Come, Mister Norton. There are matters to discuss." The crime lord did not look back; his advisor should be following him from behind. "Your strategy is much needed now."

  Awaiting them in the Gray Fox's study was a map of Luminberg spread across his desk. The ink has dried, though its scent was stronger than it was supposed to be. There were small trapezoids where the towers stood. A small tray of various tokens was placed in a small box; slopes and angles piled on top of each other.

  "I was about to show my idea with a better presentation, but this will do." Norton's breath hissed in the room.

  "You must have noticed that I've spoken with Doctor Hollegrehenn about the constructs." The Gray Fox stood at where the map showed the western edge of the city of Luminberg. "The improvements are split between better armor protection and some special units with a more powerful armament. Do you think this can affect your planning?"

  "I highly doubt that would change the manpower I needed." Winston picked up five orange beads and two blue cubes, placing them on one of the towers. "I'll need thirty experienced men, and twelve of the fighting machines. These are for each tower, if I wasn't clear on that."

  "Only thirty? Here I was thinking you'd need at least a hundred for every tower."

  "We can only defend positions long enough for your devices to finish their tasks." Winston looked at the Luminberg's southern and western gates. "Relief forces from House Melvich's Stoltich and Drusenheim garrisons would certainly be alerted to the commotion. We would not want to be caught fending off hundreds of Imperials at once. I strongly suggest against losing more men for minimal gains."

  "I see..." the crime lord followed where his advisor placed more markers on the map. "I'm thinking... since we have created functional and portable versions of the dimensional devices, is it possible to place those around the city and make the creatures fight the Empire's forces outside?"

  "If the 'wall' you speak of cannot be breached from outside, then those creatures should serve as passable distractions." Winston added, "I've seen the devices... can we consider this, conjure? Rather, bring forth about a few dozen of the beasts."

  "The longer the portals remain open, the more monstrosities are drawn to it, yes."

  "I'd assume the initial shock of seeing these animals can confuse the ranks." Winston was looking at the roads that led into Luminberg. "These are trained men, no matter how long they are yet to see war. The beasts are uncontrollable, so I'd assume we would get a few hours of diverted attention, at most."

  "That's plenty enough." The Gray Fox's gaze was centered on the heart of the city: Brillanz, the Tower of Sages. "Earlier work on my machinery proved that magical energy can be drawn from living beings regardless of whether they are in the open or are in hiding. Luminberg's seat of power is constructed with materials that defy our present knowledge."

  "Do you suspect that the trap you intend for the city would not affect those inside this... relic of a building?"

  "My analysts returned with more questions about the material." The Gray Fox took the cone that represented Brillanz. "Faint magical energy traces. Even I cannot conclude anything."

  "Regardless, it is impossible to shelter an army inside that little space."

  "We are about to perfect the optimal combat outfit for our men to move around while the field is active." The Gray Fox balled his hand into a fist. "The fabric prevents the wearer from being drained of strength when the Wizards' Wall is active."

  "I almost forgot that."

  "It is up to you to advise your men on how to be careful with moving around in them." The crime lord walked away from the table. "One small tear is all it needs, and the protection is compromised."

  "Making them wear another layer over it should be easy enough."

  "Good thinking, Mister Norton." The crime lord said, "You can test the outfit yourself by going to the armorer."

  "I shall do exactly that." Winston nodded once. "If you excuse me, Master."

  "Yes, yes. Return to me in case you've thought of any needed changes."

  The Gray Fox watched his advisor leave his office. He sat down in front of his desk, looking at the city map with a hand resting on his cheek. He pulled out something enclosed in a black box from a drawer. Inside was a picture: a nearly yellowing photograph of a couple. Both of them smiled before the camera. She held the man around his waist. An image long drained of color, but all these memories were fresh, untarnished, in his mind. The crime lord reached for the spot where those hands met before. All he felt was the cold metal that stood in place of his left arm.

  "You may have done what you did to serve your country, but I felt for once that I, we, were happy... once upon a time."