Heskit stalked through the halls under the cover of his bodyguard. In a way, this place was comforting to him because he was surrounded by things that were familiar to him: forges and workbenches, lathes and clamps, and all the tools known to engineers and alchemists of all the world and of any race. The smell of coal and metal carried through that place on the night breeze. Ratfolks swarmed the halls like an invading army, pillaging the place as they went. He hoped that his lackey Chillachilla had gained access to his target, the prototypes of the secret arsenal, otherwise the choicest loot would have vanished.
To the right he saw long rows of muskets of new design; he immediately ran over to them and grabbed one. It looked like a half-finished prototype. The barrel was bound with copper wire, and a small telescope was mounted on top of it. "Nothing special." Heskit thought. "Just a minor attempt to get the snipers that my own bodyguard already has. These are just poorer quality crude imitations than I found in the Empire." Since they didn't have access to manastone to mix with gunpowder, humans would never be able to get the same range or firepower. He hoped that the rest of the material they found there would be more worth considering, otherwise it would be a wasted night.
"This way, oh most perceptive of lords!" he heard her call him Chillachilla.
Heskit moved down the long corridor and found himself in another machine shop. "This is already something else." he thought to himself as he saw the short, wide, round bulge of the repeating barrel. This was worth having. He stepped to the artifact and put a paw on the cold metal of the barrel. Yes, that was worth it.
He looked down and saw the mechanism that would rotate the barrels and the firing pin that would light the fuses at the same time. Very clever! He wondered if the metal's tolerance would hold up against the use of manastone powder. Most likely not, but still, some of those new lead and manastone alloys he'd been experimenting with might do the trick. He hadn't had an accident with them since the last autocannon had gone off, killing ten of his helpers.
"Hurry! hurry up Get it!" he ordered Chillachilla.
His footman yelled orders and a few slaves obeyed. There was a grinding noise as they rolled the barrel across the floor, but Heskit didn't mind; he found it relaxing.
He continued down the halls while wondering what new toys he would find in that strange and exciting place.
♦ ♦ ♦
Elysia felt for the handle. She had half hoped to find the door locked, but it was already unlocked, and she suspected she knew why. There was a very familiar smell in the air, a mixture of musky scent, wet fur, and the stench of sewers. There was no doubt that the ratfolks were there.
"We should go tell the guard" she whispered to Frey.
"And tell them what? Something like 'we just entered the duke's secret armory and found out there were some ratfolks there; honestly, we didn't want to steal anything, just take a look?' Being hanged for theft is not my idea of a great death."
"In that case, maybe we shouldn't have come," Elysia murmured, already regretting having agreed to participate in that crazy plan. In the heat of the moment, it had seemed to her that there was a certain logic to it all, though she realized then that it was just pure insanity. They were in a place they had no reason to be, and they were most likely surrounded by ferocious ratfolk warriors. By the time help could reach them, they would most certainly be dead, and even in the unlikely event that they survived until reinforcements arrived, they would almost certainly be hanged for spies.
"How did I get into this situation?" Elysia wondered.
"Are you going to stay here all night…, or are you going to open that door?"
Half expecting a sword to strike at her face, the catgirl opened slowly and cautiously. Before her loomed long corridors. It was all in the dark, except for the light filtering in from outside.
Frey brushed past her and lumbered down the corridor, his massive sword poised to inflict her death. He could not do anything but follow him, since he did not like the prospect of being left alone in that vast building with echoing spaces.
♦ ♦ ♦
"There is a problem, oh most determined and responsible of bosses!" Chillachilla said quietly, and Heskit turned to look smugly at his lieutenant.
"Problem? What problem can there be, Chillachilla? Explain yourself! hurry up Hurry!"
"Supervisor Quee thinks that now that he has seen the mechanized vehicle called a tank, there might be trouble. He thinks the supports might not be strong enough to hold the weight. It would be unwise to take it down the sewers."
"Tell Supervisor Quee to fix that problem quickly, otherwise he will have to be replaced by someone more competent. We must take the tank! We must study the engines! We must see how it works! The Marchin Clan must possess this weapon.
Heskit climbed to the top of the tank. His followers had illuminated the place with the bluish glow of magical lamps to better see what they were doing. Just being on top of that powerful machine caused Heskit's tail to stiffen. He settled his forepaws on his waist, assuming a commanding stance, his eyes lowered to the floor of the room.
He scanned that room with his eyes, the largest of the rooms since it was the place where the only tank prototype was built. It was awesome. All the pieces, lovingly made by hand, were on nearby workbenches. Huge schematics hung with thumbtacks on the walls to serve as guides for the apprentices. At the top there were all kinds of pulleys, cables and guide ropes so that the pieces descended to their corresponding place. It was a web tangled and intricate enough to warm the heart of any engineer.
Nearby was a partially assembled prototype tank, which from every vantage point looked like a carcass half-eaten by a vulture. At the top were the galleries from which the masters could supervise the work of their workers and make sure that everything was done correctly. Yes, there were definitely some ideas there that could be adapted to the ratfolk cause.
Heskit turned and, after a while, was lost in contemplation of the huge mechanical monster, overwhelmed by the possibilities that insinuated itself in its design. There was no doubt that the tank was the most amazing concept.
He ran a paw over the riveted metal and felt his heart race. He could see himself driving one of those machines, though it would be bigger and better, with a manastone-powered engine and a flamethrower instead of the cannon he had then. Spells would bounce off the outer shell, and arrows would be deflected by the thickness of the walls. His enemies would be turned to bloody pulp by being crushed by the machine. He'd have a periscope to look out of, so he wouldn't have to expose his head to enemy fire, and he'd put tracks on it instead of those silly carriage wheels, because that way he could easily ride over the roughest of terrain. .
It was a design with which the ratfolks would conquer the world, and he, Heskit One-Eyed, would be responsible for it.
♦ ♦ ♦
Elysia saw before her a huge open courtyard, in the center of which was a gigantic pit without a cover from which came the familiar smell of sewers. The courtyard was dotted with eerily flickering witchlights, and by the glow she could see a horde of wererats moving back and forth between the well and the building itself. Each carried a chest or piece of machinery on his shoulder. Apparently, they were ransacking the place, and Elysia wasn't quite sure what the two of them were going to do, since there were too many ratfolks for them to defeat.
♦ ♦ ♦
Heskit climbed down into the tank and looked at the controls. There was a small seat made to fit a human driver, but most of the compartment was taken up by a monstrous cannon and an enormous boiler. The small steering wheel would allow the tank to be steered to the right and left, and the other wheel would serve to guide the cannon. It was all too easy.
Suddenly, Heskit knew exactly what he wanted to do, and since he was a master warlock engineer, there was no one there who could stop him. He was going to do a test drive with that vehicle; just to make sure it worked. In addition, with that they would save the effort of taking it to the mouth of the well and lowering it into the sewers.
He barked out some orders and called two slaves who he soon had loading the boiler with firewood. After a few minutes, he had enough pressure in the engine to get going.
Heskit pulled the lever and the steam-powered tank leapt forward.