Steam Power 85/100

By the time the airship finally settled itself in the middle of a large field, beside a tall stone tower with all sorts of metal gargoyles protruding from the top, my Steam Power had depleted another three points. I wasn’t too concerned, though, because the rate at which it dropped was so minuscule now that I could go miles without a change in the number.

Perhaps the efficiency program simply applied extremely well to movement? I’d have to compare it to various actions when I was free to (if I ever was).

There was definitely no way I was going to be a metal servant to these guys 24/7, though.

If they expect that kind of dedication I’m smashing my way out of their kingdom and out into the wild, where I can roam freely until my mechanical heart pumps its last pump.

Right. Mission number one? Discover how to restore my Steam Power.

I tried the obvious.

Hey, Mikayla? How can I gain more Steam Power?

I received an answer similar to what I expected.

Steam is generated through the process of Boiling, through which the resource Water will turn to its gaseous state: Steam.

Yes... That’s basic science.

Mikayla wasn’t the best at answering my questions. And that’s just something I’d have to come to terms with. While I contemplated how to pose my next question, the court wizard called out to me.

“Giant! Come hither!” He’d climbed the stone tower and was now standing at eye-level for me. I approached and stood before him. The old man’s eyes burned with passion as he examined me, spinning his silver cane idly in his left hand. The lion’s head adorning his top hat seemed to appraise me while the wizard mumbled. “Mm. A bit dated, perhaps, but the technology is fascinating. Truly, this is a wonder no modern man could hope to recreate.”

“Where’s the artificer?” the golden-armored admiral asked as he ascended the stairs within the tower. When the wizard didn’t answer him, Grant turned to the dark stairway and repeated his question. A robed head popped out and muttered something I couldn’t catch, and Grant groaned irritably. “Abraham! The artificer isn’t here!”

The other man stopped mumbling to himself to turn to the soldier. “What?”

“I said,” Admiral Grant replied, irritation creeping into his voice, “that the artificer isn’t here.”

“Why!” Court Wizard Abraham Atkins shouted, throwing his top hat onto the metal floor of the building, a tonk sounding out as the lion landed. “The king will be here within the day! He can’t see the Giant in this condition!”

“Calm down, Abraham!” Grant shouted. “The king knows the state of the Giant. He won’t be offended by its condition.”

My condition? How rude!

I flexed a hand, examining the rusty iron skin that poked out from between pieces of oxidized green armor. The metal squealed as I clenched it into a fist, holes in my fingers whistling as the wind flowed through them.

Okay, I won’t lie. It’s a bit gross.

“This titan must be presentable if we are going to properly dedicate it to His Majesty.” Atkins sighed and dropped to his knees. “Why couldn’t we possess the one that repaired itself?”

My ears perked up at that. Or, they would have, if I had any.

There are other Giants?

Unfortunately, due to my relationship with these two buffoons, I couldn’t just ask for confirmation of this.

“Pull yourself together!” Admiral Grant hissed, grasping the other man by his collar. “If you don’t start acting in such a way that befits your title, I’ll declare you incapable to the king myself!”

Atkins’ face paled, and he swiftly pulled himself to his feet, legs trembling. “There must be something we can do!” he said, rubbing two fingers against his forehead.

“As I said,” Admiral Grant replied with a calm voice. “The king is aware of the Giant’s condition. There should be no need to worry.”

The wizard sighed. “I suppose you’re right… Still,” he continued, still rubbing his forehead, eyes closed, “it would be nice to be able to do something about it.”

“Agreed, but unfortunately--”

The admiral was interrupted by the sound of a mechanical neigh. It was processed, as though it’d been generated by a computer, or perhaps recorded by a low-quality microphone. Both men let out exasperated grunts as they glared at each other.

“Was that--?” The wizard asked.

“Yes.”

Followed by their flock of robed associates like mothers leading ducklings, the two men made their way back into the tower and proceeded down the stone stairs. I glanced around, looking down towards the ground to see a smoking metal machine stomping its way towards the tower.

A mechanical horse?

The creature was pulling a fancy carriage behind it, trimmed with gold leaf, atop which sat a man with a cloak pulled over his head, leaving his face cast in a dark shadow. Two shining silver gauntlets grasped tightly at the chains connected to the animalistic machine. The horse snorted and neighed again, the same processed sound echoing out of its hollow chest as it moved rhythmically and uniformly toward me.

“The damn artificer is here at last!” Atkins shouted, having emerged from the bottom of the tower and fallen to his knees, perhaps crying in joy.

“To be fair,” Admiral Grant responded boredly as he twined his goatee. A hand dipped into a pouch at his side and he brought forth a monocle, which he then proceeded to idly rub a clean cloth against. “He’s often late. You should’ve given him an earlier meeting time.”

The wind blew the hood away from the artificer’s face, and the light caught his face. My eyes automatically zoomed in and focused on the sole man riding atop the carriage. Each of the fingers on his gauntlets was tipped with a differently colored crystal, but my attention was drawn back to his face as his long unruly red hair blew upwards. His eyes seemed to meet mine, and a smile crept up his face as I felt a chill ripple through my iron bones.

Is that…?