After a grueling week without rest, my workshop had become a factory floor of constant production. My hands and tendrils had moved with mechanical precision, assembling joints, programming brass plates, and calibrating mana suction enchantments until the final worker unit stood before me, its four arms positioned at perfect right angles.

Now, standing in the sunlit courtyard of the administration building, I watched Elder Fargill inspect the hundredth unit with undisguised glee. The kobold's claws tapped against the dark steel chassis, his beady eyes reflecting the metal's gleam.

"Magnificent," he murmured. "Simply magnificent."

Behind him, the other Council members observed with varying degrees of interest. Morrg scowled, his massive minotaur frame tense with disapproval. Akassi seemed thoughtful, while Sathrak maintained his usual stoic demeanor.

That completes our arrangement, I said, my mental voice projecting to all present. One hundred worker units as promised.

"The Tireless," Fargill corrected, patting the unit's shoulder. "Much better name. More marketable."

I hadn't chosen the name. It had emerged organically among the enclave's citizens after witnessing the machines working continuously for days without stopping. The name had spread quickly, and I found I didn't mind it. It was accurate, if nothing else.

The Tireless, then, I conceded. Are the human slaves prepared for release as agreed?

Yudron stepped forward, his white robes catching the light. "Yes, all arrangements have been made. They will depart in three days' time, escorted safely beyond the Hellzone's borders."

Barkatus shifted beside me, his hand resting casually on his sword hilt. I'd noticed his growing restlessness these past days as I focused exclusively on production.

"Three days?" I asked. Why the delay?

"Logistics," Sathrak interjected. "We're organizing a single large convoy with thirty of my best warriors as escorts. All one hundred and fifty humans will travel together."

A group that size will attract every monster within miles, I pointed out. Wouldn't smaller groups be safer?

Sathrak's scaled face remained impassive. "Security concerns take precedence. We cannot risk having freed humans wandering our enclave or learning too much about our defenses. A mass exodus is the most prudent solution."

I studied him, noting the tension in his posture. This wasn't about logistics; it was about removing a perceived threat as quickly as possible.

"My warriors are more than capable," Sathrak continued. "They'll ensure the humans reach the edge of the Hellzone safely."

I should accompany them, I said. My combat capabilities would significantly increase their chances of survival.

Fargill's tail lashed in agitation. "Absolutely not! The water system remains unfinished, and we have orders for thirty more Tireless already paid in advance. Your skills are required here."

The kobold's eyes narrowed, his merchant's mind clearly calculating profit margins. "Our agreement stipulated completing the water project. You've delivered the initial hundred units, yes, but your obligations aren't fulfilled."

I glanced at Yudron, who offered a slight nod of confirmation. I had indeed promised to complete both projects.

Very well, I conceded reluctantly. But someone should represent my interests in this convoy.

I turned to Barkatus. Would you be willing to accompany them? Ensure they reach their destination safely?

His face lit up immediately. "Gods, yes. Another week watching you tinker with brass plates and I might lose my mind."

"A human mercenary escorting freed slaves?" Morrg scoffed. "How do we know he won't simply abandon us once beyond our reach?"

Barkatus gave his word to remain in my service, I replied. That is sufficient guarantee for me.

"I'll go," Barkatus affirmed, squaring his shoulders. "Been itching for some real action anyway."

I turned back to the Council. Arctur should accompany him as well. A representative of the enclave alongside my representative.

Sathrak nodded slowly. "Arctur is one of our finest warriors. His presence would be... appropriate."

Barkatus grimaced slightly but didn't object. His relationship with Arctur remained strained, their fundamentally different perspectives creating constant friction.

"Fine," he muttered. "The lizard can come too."

Fargill clapped his scaled hands together. "Excellent! Then it's settled. Now, about those additional thirty units…"

First, I complete the water system, I interrupted. Then we discuss further production.

As the Council members dispersed, Barkatus leaned closer. "You sure about this? Sending me off with lizard-boy while you stay here playing plumber?"

Someone I trust needs to ensure those people reach safety, I replied. And I've given my word to complete these projects.

He nodded, understanding the weight of obligation. "I'll make sure they get home, whatever's left of it. You have my word on that."

I watched the Tireless stand motionless, awaiting instructions, their metal bodies gleaming in the soft magical lantern light. They would replace human suffering with mechanical efficiency, a solution that felt both triumphant and hollow.

Three days later, I stood at the eastern gates, watching the massive convoy assemble in the pre-dawn light. One hundred and fifty humans gathered with quiet determination, their faces a mixture of hope and apprehension. Freedom waited beyond the Hellzone's deadly expanse, but reaching it would test their resolve.

Forty wagons lined the black sand perimeter, loaded with provisions. Water barrels, dried food stores, medical supplies, tents; it was enough supplies to sustain the journey across the wasteland. The Council had been surprisingly generous in this regard. Perhaps guilt had loosened their purse strings.

Sathrak moved among his warriors, issuing final instructions. He'd selected thirty of his finest, a mixture of orcs and lizardmen with levels ranging from the high twenties to the low forties. Their weapons gleamed as the sun rose, well-maintained and deadly. Whatever my misgivings about Sathrak's methods, he'd kept his word about security.

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Barkatus stood apart from the others, inspecting his auric steel sword one final time. The blade caught the light, the mana he had flowing through it humming with quiet power. Nearby, Arctur adjusted his pack, his red spear strapped across his back.

I approached them both. The convoy appears well-prepared.

"Well-armed is what matters," Barkatus replied, sheathing his sword. "Sand Dogs won't be a problem, but if we encounter anything larger..." He shrugged. "We'll handle it."

I've programmed three scout spiders to accompany you, I said, gesturing to the small mechanical constructs perched on a nearby wagon. They'll provide advance warning of threats.

"Your little toys?" Barkatus smirked. "Better than nothing, I suppose."

Arctur's tail swished impatiently. "We have thirty warriors, Vardiel. The journey will be safe enough."

Safe enough isn't sufficient, I countered. These people have endured enough suffering.

"I'll get them home," Barkatus said, his voice suddenly serious. "Every last one. You have my word."

Arctur rolled his eyes. "And I'll keep an eye on our mercenary friend. Make sure his heroics don't get anyone killed."

Barkatus grinned, all teeth. "Worried you can't keep up, lizard?"

"No. I'm just concerned that you'll charge headlong into the first threat we see," Arctur retorted.

The convoy leader, a grizzled orc named Durtha, called for final preparations. Humans began climbing into wagons or forming walking groups. The elderly and children were helped onto cushioned wagon beds, their thin frames a testament to years of hardship.

A small girl, no more than six, caught my gaze from atop a wagon. She hesitated, then lifted her hand in a tentative wave. I raised my mechanical arm in return, the gesture feeling strangely significant.

More children noticed, and soon several were waving. A few adults joined them, their expressions guarded but acknowledging. These weren't the bitter glares I'd received during my visits to announce their freedom. Something had shifted; perhaps the first fragile seed of trust.

"Time to move out!" Durtha bellowed.

Barkatus clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Don't burn down the place while I'm gone."

Focus on your task, I replied. I'll continue mine.

The massive caravan lurched into motion, wagon wheels grinding against black sand. The former slaves walked with straight backs, their steps purposeful. Whatever awaited them beyond the Hellzone, whether ruined villages, scattered families, uncertain futures… it was theirs to face as free people.

I watched until they disappeared over the obsidian ridge, my thoughts following them across the deadly expanse. Despite all calculations and preparations, an uncomfortable uncertainty lingered. These were lives, not mechanical parts that could be replaced or repaired.

Safe journey, I thought. May you find what remains of home.

Two days after the caravan's departure, I sat in my workshop adjusting the mana flow in a new worker unit when a sharp, electric pain lanced through my consciousness. The sensation was both foreign and familiar, like losing a limb I hadn't known existed.

I froze, half-finished parts suspended in mid-air as three distinct presences vanished from my awareness. The Brace enchantment that connected me to all my mechanical children suddenly felt incomplete, three threads of connection severed without warning.

Scout Spider Seventeen... Scout Spider Twelve... Scout Spider Fifteen...

The three I'd sent with the caravan were gone. Not dormant or malfunctioning, but destroyed. My Brace enchantment allowed no ambiguity; their destruction had been absolute.

I dropped the parts with a clatter that startled the other constructs in the workshop. The quadrupedal units stopped their organizing, and the hovering machines descended to eye level, their sensors focused on me.

Something had just killed three of my children.

The caravan. The freed slaves. Barkatus. Arctur. All were in danger.

I summoned Flyer Unit Three, one of my winged messenger constructs. Its propellers whirred to life as it hovered before me, awaiting instructions. I hastily scrawled five identical notes on scraps of parchment, my mechanical fingers pressing hard enough to tear through in places.

Caravan under attack. Scout spiders destroyed. Emergency council meeting required immediately. ~ Vardiel

I secured the notes to Flyer Three and gave it instructions to deliver them to all five elders. The construct shot out through the workshop's high window, its propellers a blur as it raced toward the administrative district.

My tendrils unfurled as I burst through the workshop doors, startling a group of goblin children who scattered like leaves in a gale. I rushed through the streets like a mad ghost, scaring even more of the citizenry in my path.

The administrative building loomed ahead, its black brick façade gleaming in the lamplight. I entered the main hall and waited, each passing second feeling like an eternity. My tendril tips tapped an agitated rhythm against the stone floor.

Yudron arrived first, his white robes billowing as he rushed toward me.

"I received your message," he said, his aged face creased with concern. "What has happened?"

My scout spiders are dead, I replied, the words tasting bitter. All three, simultaneously. The caravan is under attack.

Yudron frowned deeply. "Come, let us go upstairs to the council chamber. The others will join us there."

We ascended to the familiar circular room where the Elder Council conducted their business. Akassi arrived moments later, her small frame carrying an air of authority that belied her size. Sathrak followed shortly after, his scaled face impassive. Fargill waddled in last, breathing heavily from the climb.

"Elder Morrg is away on business in the southern tunnels," an aide informed us before quietly withdrawing.

"What is this emergency?" Sathrak demanded, settling into his chair.

The caravan has been attacked, I stated flatly. My three scout spiders were destroyed simultaneously. Their Brace connection was severed completely.

Akassi's eyes widened. "Are you certain? Could it not be a malfunction?"

Fargill leaned forward. "Yes, perhaps your machines simply broke down in the harsh conditions?"

No, I said firmly. The Brace enchantment allows me to feel their presence at all times. I felt them die. All three, at once. This was no malfunction or accident.

"They could have been ambushed by monsters," Sathrak suggested, his tail swishing dismissively. "Or perhaps one of the humans damaged them. These things happen."

My tendrils coiled tightly in frustration. That's impossible. Scout spiders cannot be ambushed; their sensory arrays detect threats from all directions. For all three to be destroyed simultaneously would require a massive, coordinated attack.

"Vardiel is right," Yudron interjected. "This is deeply concerning." He turned to Sathrak. "You must gather whatever militia you can spare and send out a rescue party immediately."

Sathrak's scales darkened slightly, the lizardman's equivalent of a scowl. "I've already committed thirty of my best warriors to this convoy. Sending more would leave our defenses dangerously thin."

The Voiceless protect this enclave, not your men, I snapped, my patience evaporating. You can spare fighters for a rescue mission.

"The Voiceless guard our perimeter," Sathrak hissed, rising slightly from his seat. "My warriors maintain peace within these walls. But I wouldn't expect an outsider to understand our security protocols."

Then I'll go myself, I declared, tendrils flaring outward. I won't abandon those people, or my friends.

"Unacceptable!" Fargill protested, his small fist pounding the table. "You have contracts to fulfill! The water system isn't complete, and we need more worker units!"

Your profits can go to hell, I snarled, advancing toward the kobold. Lives are at stake.

"ENOUGH!" Akassi's voice cracked through the chamber like lightning. The elderly goblin mage stood, her diminutive frame suddenly commanding. "This bickering solves nothing!"

She turned to Sathrak, eyes narrowed. "You will spare ten fighters to scout the situation. Immediately."

Then she faced me, her gaze no less intense. "And you, Vardiel! Emotional outbursts and insults help no one. I understand your creations were destroyed, but losing composure won't bring them back."

The chamber fell silent. I looked around at the council members: Yudron's worried frown, Fargill's calculating stare, Sathrak's barely contained hostility, and Akassi's stern authority.

You're right, I finally conceded, my tendrils retracting. I apologize for my outburst.

Sathrak exhaled slowly through his nostrils. "I will send ten scouts to assess the situation. They'll depart within the hour."

"Then this meeting is adjourned," Akassi declared.

I stormed from the council chamber, my mechanical frame clattering against the stone floor. Anger and worry churned within me; anger at the destruction of my scout spiders, worry for the freed slaves and my companions.

In the courtyard, I paused, considering sending flyer units to investigate. But the fragile constructs would be even more vulnerable than the scout spiders. I couldn't bear to lose more of my children to whatever force had destroyed the others.

I stood motionless, staring at the distant eastern gate. For all my power, all my mechanical ingenuity, I was reduced to waiting, which was probably the most unbearable action of all.

The pain of the severed connections lingered in my consciousness like phantom limbs. Whatever had happened out there in the black sands of the Hellzone, I feared we would discover the worst.

Be safe, I thought, directing my wish toward Barkatus, Arctur, and the freed humans. Hold on until help arrives.

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