The yellow-colored mag-rail pulled up to the Gun Tarum rail station and began unloading both passengers and cargo with all due haste. The one-armed gnome who had wholeheartedly embraced the nickname Moss hopped off one of the passenger cars and walked briskly towards the rear of the train. His ticket and boarding pass were checked by the Gnomish Rail Guild officials, and he was allowed access to his cargo, which consisted of one visibly annoyed mithril golem.

Suffice it to say, the emptiness of the passenger carriages did not persist for the entire trip. More and more people headed for the Horkensaft Kingdom’s capital city boarded the mag-rail with each stop. At one point there were so many people, that they were forced to squeeze in one or two extra person per compartment. Under such circumstances, Moss had been asked to commit his golem to the freight wagon, as she was taking up space.

So when all was said and done, even though Fizzy didn’t spend the whole trip in that metal coffin, she was still strapped in there for the last 13 hours. At the very least this entire experience had been highly educational, as she was able to get rather intimate with the mag-rail’s construction. She was also able to find out exactly why this vehicle was taking so much longer to reach Gun Tarum than the one from her father’s theories.

In short, it was because theory and reality never quite agreed with one another.

Realistically speaking, building and maintaining a 900 kilometer-long rail in a straight line was not only impractical, but also impossible. The mag-rail passed through multiple towns and cities and had to skirt around the really dangerous areas of the country, most notable of which was the territory claimed by one of the world’s Elder Dragons. After factoring in all the detours that had to be made, the actual distance covered on this trip from Steelhead to Gun Tarum was almost double what Fizzy had initially anticipated.

The winding nature of the ‘road’ also meant that although the mag-rail was capable of reaching speeds of over 200 kilometers per hour, it didn’t exactly have the wiggle room to do so. Not unless the driver wanted to make it fly off the rail at the first bend. Acceleration and deceleration also had to be rather slow to make sure none of the passengers or cargo inside suffered damage from rapid changes in inertia.

All things said and done, the mechanical snake’s average speed had clocked in at about 50 kilometers per hour. Which, while impressive when compared to other modes of transport, was much lower than the velocity Fizzy had hoped to see. Another thing she hadn’t foreseen initially was the fact that the train had to spend a few hours at each stop, resulting in a lot of downtime.

Overall, by the time the aspiring Artificer was able to set foot in Gun Tarum, it had been precisely 65 hours, 18 minutes and 35 seconds since she first boarded the mag-rail.

“Had a nice trip, Fizzy?” asked Moss in a somewhat joking manner.

“No, it was boring as hell!” she grumbled in response. “Just having to sit there for hours on end with absolutely nothing to keep my hands or mind busy is horrible. That’s why I hate traveling long distance so much.”

At least if she had gone the entire way on foot she would’ve been able to hunt monsters and/or bandits along the way to alleviate her boredom.

“Oh, okay,” offered her companion weakly. He really wasn’t expecting an honest response so he was caught a bit off-guard. “So… what do we do now?”

“Well for starters I need information, and if I’m going to get it, then I have to look the part.”

Having said that, the golem reached into one of the bags strapped to her backside, pulled out her usual outfit and dressed herself for the first time in three days. Moss had been granted the honor of thoroughly washing it during one of the mag-rail’s stop-overs, so there were no more bloodstains to be found on it. And while he was initially relieved she was finally covering up, the adolescent boy still found himself undressing her with his eyes. Her uncovered feminine curves had been burned into his memory by now, so he really couldn’t help himself but picture her naked anyway.

“Alright, all set,” she declared after making sure she was decent. “Come on, Moss, let’s go.”

The gnome-golem pair then set out into the city proper, and Moss became speechless the instant he stepped out of the rail station. He had spent his entire life in the gnomish-dominated city of Steelhead, so he was entirely unprepared for the sight of his country’s capital. Gun Tarum was an ancient dwarven city, built before The Great Unification brought the two cousin races together some 1,100 years ago. As such, while its population had become something of a melting pot since then, it still oozed of traditional dwarven architecture.

To begin with, it was built in the mouth of a long-dormant volcano, now known as Blackthroat Mountain. This meant that not only was it at a rather high altitude, but it was also surrounded on all sides by a roughly 60-meter tall ring of solid black rock. Solid stone buildings with predominantly hexagonal shapes covered every part of this place, even snaking up the near-vertical rim of the former volcano’s mouth. The terrain as a whole was vaguely bowl shaped and sloped towards the middle, right where the royal palace was located. A fact that Moss was made keenly aware of, as he could clearly see the peaks of the Obsidian Palace’s solid black towers in the distance, looming over the much shorter houses around it.

That was hardly the only landmark his vantage point offered him. On the opposite end of the city he could see what seemed to be countless smokestacks pumping out black and gray smog that converged into a single large cloud as it made its way heavenward. There was also a large coliseum with numerous colorful tapestries adorning its outer wall. He also spotted numerous blue-colored mag-rails much more compact than the one he arrived on darting all over the place. They darted in and out of the imposing wall of stone in the background as they traveled to and from the numerous houses, forges, mines and factories that dotted the outer rim of Blackthroat Mountain’s summit.

“C’mon, meatbag. We have work to do.”

“RIght! On my way!”

Having been reminded they weren’t here to sightsee, Moss followed diligently after Fizzy. As they walked down the street, he gradually came to realize just many golems there were around here. Both metal and stone constructs of various makes and materials stomped up and down the streets, usually carrying heavy-looking crates or bags as they went about their duties. This wasn’t his first time seeing golems used en-masse, but even a dumb boy like him could tell they were of a superior quality than the ones he spotted around Steelhead.

For starters, the golem crafters around here had abandoned the traditional two-armed two-legged humanoid shape in favor of more specialized designs. There were many of them that looked like giant six-legged beetles, which transported heavy loads upon their wide flat backs. Other models had a humanoid upper body while rolling around on a rectangular lower body that was connected to two sets of wheels bound together by steel treads. There were some regular-shaped ones as well, most likely used as servants or menial labor, as much of the city’s amenities and buildings were designed with people in mind. But even these were obviously artificial, as they had almost featureless bucket-like heads or unnaturally proportioned limbs.

And yet, being surrounded by other magical constructs only made Fizzy stand out even more. She was like a diamond amidst a pile of coal, glistening brilliantly in the morning sun. Comparing her radiant countenance to those clunky, scratched up and unsightly things almost seemed like an insult. And, as Moss soon realized, the more she collected surprised gasps and appreciative whistles from the pedestrians, the more her mood improved. He had noticed the same thing back in Steelhead, too, so by now he was quite sure she adored being the center of attention. He was glad she felt better, but at the same time couldn’t help but feel jealous from all the strangers eyeing her up.

“Hmmm hmm hmm~♪ Ha-hum-hahum~♪ Ha-hum-hahum~♪ Ha-hum-hahum~♪”

Any selfish gripes he had about the situation were forgotten when he heard the golem in front of him humming in a carefree manner. Her voice got gradually louder and she started walk with a certain spring in her step, until she flat out began singing.

“Do you know the muffin man?

The muffin man, the muffin man.

Do you know the muffin man,

That lives inside my head.”

Her bell-like voice rang out as if it were a musical instrument, carrying itself clearly over the hustle and bustle of her surroundings. There was something relentlessly cheerful about that song that attracted even more attention from the surrounding pedestrians.

“Watch out for the muffin man,

The muffin man, the muffin man.

Watch out for the muffin man,

Better hide beneath your bed.”

Moss could’ve sworn he heard one of the dwarves he passed by sing alongside Fizzy as he passed by. He was headed in the opposite direction at a brisk pace, so the gnome didn’t have time to confirm whether he imagined it or not. Not like he could fault the guy, though. It was a simple, silly, and oddly catchy tune, so Moss found himself whistling along a little in spite of himself.

“Here he comes - the muffin man,

The muffin man, the muffin man.

Here he comes - the muffin man,

He’ll kill you ‘till you’re dead.”

At least until a few verses later when he realized the song had taken an unexpectedly dark turn.

“Do you trust the muffin man?

The muffin man, the muffin man.

Do not trust the muffin man,

Stab him in the heart instead.”

“Uh… Hey, Fizzy?”

“Can you stop the muffin- Oh, what is it, Moss?”

‘Please stop singing that song you’re creeping everyone out’ were the words that got stuck in his throat. Being confronted with Fizzy’s dazzling over-the-shoulder smile made it difficult to say anything bad to her. Scrambling for a topic to speak about, he actually managed to recall a little quandary he’s had for a while now.

“Uhm… where are we headed to, exactly?”

As the two of them walked through the streets, Moss couldn’t help but notice the buildings, road and people had all become significantly seedier than the ones around the station. They weren’t quite at slums level, but the two of them definitely weren’t in the tourist section of the capital anymore.

“To the one place where I can get things done with nobody asking me any bothersome questions.”

“Oh? There’s a place like that around here?”

“There’s a place like that in almost every city, regardless of whether it be in the Republic, the Empire or the Kingdom. I got directions for it from the station while you were gawking at the smoke, and unless I was lied to, it should be… Yup, there it is!”

Fizzy raised her good hand towards a building on her right in a sort of ‘Ta-daah!’ fashion. It was a structure that stood out from the others almost like a sore thumb as it was of a distinctly more western style of architecture. Meaning that it was made out of wood rather than stone, and had four walls instead of six. It also had three floors, which was more or less the upper limit for structures around here, and a red flag with two white crossed swords on it hanging above the entrance.

“Welcome to Gun Tarum’s Mercenary Guild!” declared Fizzy in a needlessly triumphant manner.

The Mercenary Guild was an organization that could be found in nearly every major settlement on the continent. They handled the less reputable jobs and tasks that other guilds wouldn’t take, provided the requests weren’t blatantly illegal ones. This was also a very good place to go for information, as it was often bought and sold like any other trade good. Fizzy knew all this because there had been a Mercenary Guild branch office in Erosa - the town she and her family stayed at in the Empire. She has had dealings with them before, so she knew what to expect.

“Mercenary Guild? Oh boy…”

Unfortunately, so did Moss.

“What? Got a problem with it?”

“No, not particularly. It’s just, I thought only drunks, thugs, and good-for-nothing dirtbags visited these things.”

“Well, you’ll fit right in there, won’t you?! Seriously though, it’s fine. Everyone in there will become a friend of yours for the right price, and I got the coinage, so you have nothing to worry about.”

Saying that, she grabbed Moss by the collar and more or less dragged him inside, opening the wooden door by lightly bumping it open with her shoulder.

*SLAM*

Or at least, that was her intention, but nothing Fizzy did was actually ‘light.’ And now that she’d made something of a pointless racket, she let go of Moss and twisted the doorknob before pushing it open for real this time. It was still early morning, so the restaurant that traditionally took up the first floor of any Mercenary Guild office was packed with people who had been eating their breakfast. And now they were staring in a none-too-pleased manner at the mysterious mass of mithril that had walked through the door while dragging some poor sap along.

Fizzy stepped over the wooden floorboards in a confident manner, making them creak under her weight while Moss sheepishly followed behind. He was clearly out of his element in a place like this, and he used to be part of a criminal gang until a few days ago, so that was saying something. To his relief, and in accordance with Mercenary Guild tradition, the amalgamation of shady characters resumed minding their own damned business soon enough. The only reason they even bothered to pay those two any mind was to see if they were going to pick a fight or something due to the two’s loud entrance. And since that didn’t seem to be the case, they were more than happy to continue eating their gruel, sausages and mushroom omelets with gusto while Fizzy approached the bar.

The wrinkled old dwarf attending the bar wore a long-sleeved off-white tunic and slightly baggy dark gray pants, ending in a pair of town shoes that were beige in color. He had a thick brown beard with streaks of gray in it and his head was almost completely bald. The barman/receptionist put away the glass he was pretending to clean and turned his attention to the newcomers.

“Good morning, and welcome to the Mercenary Guild,” he said in a strictly professional manner. “How can I…”

His words trailed off a bit when he saw Fizzy, and his eyes narrowed in on her highly detailed face that was way too lifelike to have been sculpted out of anything but magic. The golem also returned the stair, blinking her eyes a few times as she racked through her memory.

“Sorry,” said the dwarf. “I just thought you looked a lot like somebody I knew.”

“Old man Grog?” asked Fizzy in a somewhat confused tone. “Is that you?”

Indeed, the dwarf behind the counter was the same one she knew from her time in Erosa.

“Yeah? Wait, you really are Rory’s kid, aren’t you?!”

And it would seem he remembered her as well, though he was having trouble believing his eyes.

“Ah, yeah. I guess I am.”

“How in the bloody hell… ?”

“Look, a lot of things happened over the past 6 months, okay?”

“That’s a bloody understatement, girl!” he shouted in a pleasantly surprised voice. “I thought you were dead!”

“Oy Grog!” shouted one of the patrons. “Keep it down, will ya?! We don’t need any more damned storms!”

There was a quick bout of mocking laughter among the regulars.

“Right, look,” said the balding dwarf in a quieter tone, “I’m sure you didn’t come here for this old bag of bones, and I don’t get paid to chat pointlessly. What is it you want?”

“Information.”

Fizzy reached into her trouser pocket and pulled out a bag of gold she had prepared, dropping it on the counter with a metallic thud. Grog grabbed the bag and peeked inside to confirm it was indeed gold, 300 GP worth according to the weight in his hand.

“I’m all ears.”

“I need you to point me to someone who can fix this.”

She wiggled the stump of her left arm for emphasis.

“I’ll procure blueprints and materials, so all I’m looking for is skilled labor. Discretion appreciated, but not mandatory.”

“Golem forger, eh? If you want the best, then Malcolm’s your guy. He’s a human, but he works harder than most dwarves, so he’ll get the job done. He likes a good challenge too, so I think he’ll be happy to help you out. Bit of a cunt, though, so you can kiss the ‘discrete’ part goodbye.”

“I’ll give him a try,” declared the golem.

The dwarf pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled the man’s address on it, then handed it to Fizzy.

“Here. You’ll find him in the Foundry District. Big place, lots of smoke - can’t miss it.”

“Great, thanks Grog. Next, I’m gonna need to hire a Scribe. One that’s at least Level 30 and has very tight lips.”

Grog’s eyes narrowed a bit at that request, as he was instantly able to tell exactly what the metallic woman in front of him wanted to do.

“Government keeps a close eye on that sort of thing, you know,” he warned her.

“That would be true if we’re talking about people, not items.”

“Hah. Hahaha! Ah, you cheeky brat, you always had a way with technicalities. Well, can’t say I approve, but I’m not going to turn down a paying customer. Wait here a sec.”

The dwarf went off into the back room and returned less than a minute later with another dwarf in tow. This one was a woman, with a wide nose, ashen hair, brown eyes and wearing a uniform similar to Grog’s.

“This here’s Misnia,” he said while introducing his co-worker. “She’s your gal.”

The female dwarf then led the mithril gnome up the stairs into a more private area while the bartender remained behind. Grog would’ve liked to help Fizzy out personally, but he never got his Scribe Job past Level 25 since he saw no point in doing so. The Identify, Language Comprehension, Basic Appraisal and Advanced Penmanship Skills he had from the Job were all more than enough to satisfy his day-to-day needs.

“What about you, kid?” he said turning to Moss. “You been awfully quiet this whole time. Not that I mind that sort of thing, but the stares you’ve been throwing about makes me think you’ve been itching to say something.”

“Yeah, uh… Hi. I’m Moss,” said the gnome nervously.

“Good name. It’s short and it fits.”

“Thanks. Fizzy gave it to me.”

“Ah, she goes by Fizzy now does she?”

“Yeah, about that. You’ve known her from before, right? Like, when she was still flesh and blood?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I’d like to hear about that.”

“Sorry, kid. I’m not in the habit of divulging personal-”

*Thunk*

Moss dropped a satchel of gold coins on the counter before Grog could finish his rejection. They weren’t technically his coins, though the dwarf didn’t need to know that, nor did he ask.

“Alright,” said the bartender while collecting the boy’s ill-gotten gains. “What do you wanna know about?”

“What was she like back then?”

“Can’t say much since we rarely spoke. She was squeaky, hard working, and had a few screws loose. Your typical gnome, really. Naive to a fault, and pretty talented if her old man’s boasting was to be believed.”

“What about her real name? You know it, right?”

“… I’m sorry, kid, but if she hasn’t told you that, then neither will I. I don’t think she’d forgive me for that one.”

Names had a special significance in gnomish and dwarven society, and the Fizzlesprocket name was something that would certainly turn a lot heads. The shiny lady would probably understand if she found out the dwarf had sold information regarding her past, but revealing her identity as a disowned noble wasn’t a line he was willing to cross. Especially when considering what she was doing right now.

“Ah okay… Uh… Then do you happen to know anything about a guy named Boxxy?”

Moss had heard Fizzy mumble the name under her breath back in Steelhead, just before they departed for the mag-rail station. Of course he wanted to know about this mysterious person, but he couldn’t ask her directly since it would involve admitting he eavesdropped on her. Plus, he doubted he’d get a straight answer.

“Hah, yeah I do. I assume you mean Boxxy T. Morningwood, right?”

“I… think so?”

“If you’re asking about anyone connected to the young lady with the shiny ass, then yeah, that’s probably the one.”

“Why? Were they close?”

“I’d wager so. I’m pretty sure he was her Artificer student, and a talented one at that.”

“Yeah, but were they… you know… close?”

Grog chuckled when he realized what the boy was actually worried about.

“Scared someone’s gonna steal the girl you fancy, are you?” he asked in a jovial manner.

“Shhh! She’ll hear!”

Artificers had a lot of PER so their ears were crazy sharp. Fizzy herself had proven to be able to see and hear quite a bit more than one might expect.

“She already knows, kid,” said the bartender while wiping down a shot glass.

“She… she does?”

“Well, yeah. It’s pretty obvious the way you keep leering at her.”

“You sure about that?”

“Of course. Frankly, I’d be more surprised if she hasn’t found out about your crush on her by now.”

“Well- It’s just that, she hasn’t really said anything.”

“She probably just doesn’t care about it.”

“Oh… No… I guess she wouldn’t… Nobody cares about scum like me…”

“I wouldn’t go that far. She’s still dragging you around, so that’s gotta count for something.”

“Yeah… I guess…”

“Anyway, back to your question. I doubt Mr Morningwood and your pal Fizzy were an item. First of all, guy was huge. Easily over two meters. I mean, I hear gnome women are surprisingly flexible, but that sorta size difference is just impossible. Plus, if I gotta be honest, guy was something of a misanthrope, and really socially awkward. Also, I didn’t get to see his face, but his skin was horrible. Long story short, I doubt any sane woman would want him, even if he was loaded up to the gills with cash.”

Moss was visibly relieved by that statement. The way Fizzy spoke fondly of this Morningwood fellow made him think he was an old flame or something, but if it was just a platonic student-teacher relationship, then that was good enough for him.

“You still got enough credit for one more question, kid,” said Grog. “What’ll it be?”

That was everything that Moss really cared about, but since the dwarf was offering-

“Why did Fizzy leave the Empire?”

“Dunno. Probably has something to do with her father and brother going missing when that Calamity hit, and then her shop getting trashed and ransacked. She just sort of disappeared after that, so I assumed the worst. Come to think of it, that Morningwood fellow went missing the same day, so maybe they ran off together after all.”

That incident had proven to be something of a tipping point for Erosa. Having a monster rampage through the middle of a city, killing dozens and wrecking a few buildings was the spark that particular powder keg had been waiting for. The riot and looting that flared up after that only contributed to the confusion and mayhem, causing fatalities, injuries, and massive property damage.

“Ah hahah, I’m just pulling your leg, kid!” added the dwarf when he saw the priceless face Moss was making. “Lots of people skipped town around that time, so it was probably a coincidence.”

Grog himself ended up leaving that human city as a direct result of the incident, as both the Quest takes and the Quest givers dwindled rapidly in the following weeks. The Mercenary Guild eventually deemed it was no longer profitable to operate out of Erosa, and closed up its branch office soon after. The dwarven barkeep was then transferred to this place. It was something of a step up for him, though he wished his reputation as ‘The Stormbringer’ had stayed behind.

“Not funny, old man!” complained Moss.

“I wholeheartedly disagree.”

“Why does everyone want to make fun of me? Like, seriously?!”

“‘Cus you got one of them exploitable faces that seem to invite people to bully you. You should probably work on that if you want cynical old farts like me to take you more seriously.”

“Duly noted.”

Having finished their conversation, Moss took a seat at an empty table and waited while the old dwarf continued doing his job. Fizzy came down the steps several minutes later while humming the muffin man song to herself. She walked up to the Quest Board near the bar and skimmed over the active requests before picking one out seemingly at random. She peeled the parchment off the wall and dropped it on Grog’s counter along with a satchel of yet more gold. The old bartender curiously eyed her up.

“I thought you were going to go get your arm fixed up.”

“I am,” she confirmed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t earn a bit of coin while I’m out, right?”

“No. I suppose it doesn’t.”

Grog reached over, took the money and gave the commission a once over.

Reverb Mine Basilisk Bounty (Repeatable)

Difficulty: ★★★

Time Limit: Indefinite

Deposit: 200 GP

Reward: 500 GP

Progress: 0/20

Description: Reverb Mine has been overrun by basilisks, and the owner is offering a standing bounty for every lizard gutted. Additional compensation will be provided for delivering intact basilisk claws and fangs, which are needed to prepare petrification antidotes for the injured workers.

“ … You know what you’re getting into, right? Those buggers are no pushovers.”

“I know, I’ve fought basilisks before. I can handle it.”

Admittedly she’d only fought one or two at a time in Azurvale’s arena, and she had both of her arms back then, but she was much stronger now than she was back then. Also, even if they should prove to be too much, she could still come back after she got herself fixed up.

“Alright, if you insist.”

Grog took away the money after confirming the amount, took out the crystal-ball-looking Quest Log and placed it on top of the Quest notice. Fizzy put her hand upon it, and the dwarf put his on top of hers. The magic item reacted and projected the quest details into the golem’s mind, along with a mental map telling her how to actually get to the mine in question.

“Accept quest,” she chanted.

Both the crystal and the parchment glowed with a soft yellow light for several seconds. The tracking-type magic then enveloped Fizzy and a message appeared for both her and the receptionist. The former gnome smiled contently when she saw it, but the dwarf obviously had a few things he wanted to say. Still, it was not his place to question exactly why this girl did the things she did, and they were by no means close enough for him to prod his nose into her affairs. In fact, his ability to mind his own goddamned business was why he got this gig in the first place.

But even if he saw it coming when he heard ‘Level 30 Scribe,’ he couldn’t help but feel strangely saddened at the act.

Fizzy Rustblood has undertaken a Quest: Reverb Mine Basilisk Bounty.

Because on that day, precisely 3 minutes ago, the name Cornie Fizzlesprocket and all familial connections that came with it had officially ceased to exist.