"Aetherhaven? Wait... are you Magnar's special invitation?" Professor Ironwood's eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and recognition.
"Magnar..." I thought for a second, piecing together the implications.
That made much more sense than Ulysses buying my admission. "Yes. I think so."
"Well, that certainly explains a lot." The professor's eyebrows shot up, and he let out a low whistle.
I glanced back at the workbench, where now a dozen and one golems had finished assembling. They were an impressive sight, standing in neat rows, each one a perfect replica of the original. The automatons, all in unison, turned to the first golem, their glowing eyes focused on it as if awaiting further instruction.
The original then looked up at me, its voice clear and eager. "My master, what is your next command?"
"Help the other students," I instructed, waving a hand towards the rest of the class.
The golems immediately scattered, moving with purpose towards the various workstations. They began assisting the other students with their projects, offering materials, steadying tools, and in some cases, correcting minor mistakes. The class buzzed with renewed energy as the automatons quietly and efficiently lent their aid.
Professor Ironwood continued to marvel at the helping hands.
"Incredible," he murmured, more to himself than to me. "The precision, the intelligence... You've essentially created a small workforce, Micah. And all within the span of a single class."
I took a moment to observe the other students' creations. Most of them were working on exactly what is expected for beginners.
One student was struggling to create a mana-storing ring, the glow of the mana crystal within flickering weakly as the integrity wavered. Another was crafting a crude shield, embedding it with a fragment of a horn or claw. A few others were focused on assembling basic weapons. I saw several daggers, one set of bracers, an insult to the term sword, and a heap of metal that resisted an untrained hand.
I noticed a girl nearby attempting to make an amulet. The concept was solid, but the execution was lacking—her mana circles were unbalanced, causing the amulet to pulse erratically. One of my golems stepped in, gently guiding her hands to correct the circles, and soon the amulet stabilized, emitting a steady glow.
Another student was crafting what appeared to be a basic light source, a simple mana-powered lantern similar to the outcome of the enchantment class. It was functional, but nothing extraordinary. The golem assisting him adjusted the placement of the crystals, refining the design slightly to make the light brighter and more efficient.
As the professor moved around the room, examining each student's progress, he nodded approvingly at some, offering advice or gentle corrections to others. But his eyes kept drifting back to my golems, now finishing their tasks and returning to me, one by one. Each time one approached, I instructed it to wait at attention, and soon enough, they were all standing in a row, perfectly still, awaiting further orders.
As the class wound down, Professor Ironwood clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention to the front of the room. "Alright, class, before we conclude, I want to take a moment to review the artifacts you've created today. This will not only give you a chance to see what your peers have accomplished but also offer valuable lessons in artifice."
He began collecting the artifacts, one at a time, placing them on the podium at the front of the room. The first was a mana-storing ring, its glow faint but steady. "This is a good attempt," he said, holding the ring up for everyone to see. "The mana storage is functional, but you need to be mindful of the stability of your enchantments. A steady hand and careful focus will ensure the energy doesn't waver. Remember, the strength of an artifact is often determined by the precision of its crafting."
Next, he lifted the crude shield with its simple protective spell. "A shield's purpose is to protect, but remember that the strength of your enchantment must match the intended use. This shield might stop a weak blow, but a stronger force could easily overwhelm it. Consider layering your protective spells or reinforcing the shield's physical structure to enhance its effectiveness."
He continued through the artifacts, offering praise and constructive criticism alike. The speed-enhancing amulet earned a nod of approval for its concept but a reminder to ensure the mana circles were perfectly symmetrical to avoid erratic behavior. The light source, though functional, was praised for its efficiency after the golem's adjustments, with a suggestion to further refine the crystal placement for optimal brightness.
As Professor Ironwood placed each artifact on the podium, he made sure to highlight a specific aspect of the work that deserved recognition, while also offering a lesson on how it could be improved. It was clear that he wanted us to learn not just from our own mistakes but from those of our peers as well.
Finally, he reached my golems. There was a noticeable shift in the room as he carefully placed the original golem on the podium, its glowing eyes dimmed in its dormant state. The whispers and murmurs of the other students grew louder, a mix of awe and skepticism filling the air.
"Do you think there's anything wrong with those?" one student whispered to another.
"I can't imagine what he'd criticize," another replied. "They seem perfect."
Professor Ironwood let the murmurs settle before addressing the class. "Micah's golems are indeed impressive. They've demonstrated a level of complexity and autonomy that is rare even among graduates. But as artificers, it's crucial that we develop the ability to critique our own work, to always strive for improvement, even in our finest creations."
He turned to me, a prideful expression on his face. "Micah, I'd like you to come forward and critique your own work. Show the class that even something as this can be analyzed, and perhaps, refined."
I hesitated for a moment, but then nodded and made my way to the front. The class was silent, all eyes on me as I approached the podium. I looked down at the golem, its small form perfectly still, waiting for my command.
"These golems," I began, "were designed to do everything... to assist with tasks, to follow commands. They do that well, but there do nothing exceptionally."
I paused, gathering my thoughts. "First, their energy efficiency. While the golems can operate autonomously, they eventually will empty the mana crystals embedded within them. If I were to redesign them, I would work on improving their mana capacity and integrating a system that allows them to draw ambient mana."
I glanced at Professor Ironwood, who nodded for me to continue.
"Second," I said, "is their durability. While these golems are functional in a controlled environment like this, they might not hold up as well in more demanding conditions. I could enhance their structural integrity by reinforcing their joints and using a more resilient material for their outer shell."
I could see a few students nodding along, understanding my points.
"And finally," I concluded, "there's the issue of adaptability. Right now, these golems are limited by their size. While small is useful, it limits their ability to act in any capacity outside of support or assistance. In the future, I would like to work on giving them a greater degree of autonomy, by integrating a more sophisticated decision-making matrix as well as sizing them up."
I stepped back, the weight of my own critique settling in. It was strange, pointing out the flaws in something I had made to a crowd, but it was also liberating. A tiny fleck of my inhibitions left me after I returned to my seat.
Time is my weakness, my master and my destroyer. Instead of pushing myself for weeks on end, I could have help from perfect helpers. Golems imprinted with my commands would work without me without betraying my design.
Professor Ironwood smiled, clearly pleased with my analysis. "Thank you, Micah. That was an excellent example of the kind of self-reflection every artificer needs to strive. Remember, class, our work is never truly finished. The moment we think we've reached perfection is the moment we stop growing."