Against The World

The lights beneath Greykeep moved closer.

Hundreds of pale points climbed through the darkness. Each appeared and vanished behind stone pillars, rising steadily toward the collapsed road.

I tightened my grip on the hammer.

Melody drew her sword.

Alistair moved in front of Mary.

Eleanor and Aldren did not move at all.

They leaned over the opening.

“Those are not eyes,” Eleanor said.

Melody watched the lights.

“They are moving like eyes.”

“No. They are too regular.”

“That is not comforting.”

Eleanor pointed.

“She is right,” Aldren said. “Three columns. Equal spacing.”

“You can tell that from here?” I asked.

“I am an engineer.”

“That does not answer the question.”

“It does to another engineer,” Eleanor said.

Stone scraped below us.

A shape emerged from the darkness.

It was built like a person.

Mostly.

The figure had two arms, two legs, and a head resting between broad stone shoulders. It stood almost eight feet tall. Bronze plates covered its joints, and a golden light shone through a narrow opening where its eyes should have been.

It climbed another step.

A symbol had been carved into its chest.

A hammer beneath a Crown.

Behind it came another figure.

Then another.

Melody lowered her sword slightly.

“Golems.”

“I have heard stories,” Alistair said. “I have never seen one.”

The first construct reached the warning carved into the stairs.

It stopped.

Every light behind it stopped as well.

Silence returned.

The construct looked at me.

The Crown on my palm grew brighter.

Its stone chest opened.

Not much.

Just enough for a bronze disk to rotate inside it.

A voice emerged.

“Authority detected.”

It sounded like two millstones attempting conversation.

“That is encouraging,” I said.

“Identity required.”

“Uriah Grey.”

Nothing happened.

Mary leaned closer.

“Perhaps it wants your title.”

“I was hoping we had moved past that.”

The construct waited.

“I am Uriah Grey, King of Greykeep.”

Golden lines spread across its body.

“Crown authority provisional.”

“Of course it is.”

“Master Builder absent.”

Eleanor stepped forward.

“I am a master builder.”

The construct turned its head toward her.

“Registry not found.”

“I was not alive when you were buried.”

“Registry not found.”

“She has that effect on people,” I said.

Eleanor looked at me.

I cleared my throat.

“Can I add her?”

“Crown authority may nominate a master builder. Nomination requires confirmation by three recognized trades.”

I looked toward the workers gathered around the collapsed road.

“How do they confirm her?”

“Named representatives must state trade, identity, and assent.”

“That seems simple.”

“Simple systems reduce procedural failure.”

I stared at the construct.

“That is exactly what the Castellan says.”

“Castellan design principles govern all civic works.”

“I like you already.”

The golden lights behind it flickered.

I chose to interpret that as approval.

Eleanor did not.

“You are speaking to a machine.”

“I speak to the castle.”

“The castle speaks back.”

“That encourages me.”

Aldren descended the first step.

“I am Aldren Shaw, engineer, and I confirm Eleanor Stonehand as Master Builder.”

The construct’s chest rotated.

“One trade recognized.”

A woman near the gathered workers raised her hand.

She wore a leather apron covered in wood shavings.

“Lysa Tanner, carpenter. I confirm her.”

“Two trades recognized.”

A dwarven mason pushed through the crowd.

“Borin Deepmark. Stonemason. I confirm.”

“Three trades recognized.”

Golden light surrounded Eleanor.

She looked down as a second symbol appeared beneath the Crown on her palm.

A small hammer.

“Eleanor Stonehand,” the construct said, “Master Builder authority confirmed.”

Everyone looked at her.

She stared at the symbol.

Then she looked at me.

“What did you do?”

“I nominated you.”

“You did not ask.”

“You were already doing the job.”

“That is not the point.”

“Would you have said no?”

She hesitated.

“No.”

“Then we saved time.”

Mary sighed.

“You cannot appoint every official that way.”

“Why not? It worked.”

“Because consent matters.”

Eleanor continued examining the symbol.

“I consent.”

Mary looked dissatisfied.

“Next time,” I said, “I will ask first.”

“Good.”

The construct’s chest closed.

“Master Builder, state emergency.”

Eleanor immediately became serious.

“Greykeep requires safe housing for approximately two thousand four hundred people. More are expected. We need roads, drainage, foundations, kitchens, wells, latrines, storehouses, and repairs to the outer wall.”

The construct remained silent for several seconds.

Then every golden light below us changed from white to red.

“Current population exceeds habitable capacity.”

“We noticed,” I said.

“Sanitation capacity exceeded by three hundred eighty-seven percent.”

“That sounds bad.”

“It is bad,” Mary said.

“Fresh-water access insufficient. Fire separation insufficient. Food storage insufficient. Southern retaining wall unstable. Eastern drainage network obstructed. Civilian shelter deficit: two thousand six hundred fourteen.”

Mary opened her ledger.

“I counted two thousand four hundred.”

“Your records omit two hundred fourteen persons occupying unsafe structures within the castle.”

Mary turned toward me.

“The armory.”

“And probably the western barracks,” I said.

The construct continued.

“Immediate evacuation required.”

“Can your people help?” Eleanor asked.

“Terminology inaccurate.”

“What?”

“We are civic construction units. We are not people.”

Melody leaned toward me.

“At least this one admits it.”

“Do not insult the ancient stone workers.”

“I called them stone workers.”

“That is not the part I meant.”

Eleanor descended to the construct’s level.

“How many units remain functional?”

“Two hundred sixteen.”

“Can they build houses?”

“Yes.”

The waiting workers began murmuring.

Aldren smiled.

“With more than two hundred constructs, we can complete the eastern district in days.”

“No,” the construct said.

His smile disappeared.

“What?”

“Independent construction prohibited.”

Eleanor nodded slowly.

“Why?”

“Civic units execute designs. Living builders determine need, form, safety, and use.”

Aldren looked confused.

“You cannot work without us?”

“Correct.”

“Why build two hundred sixteen magical constructs if they cannot build by themselves?”

The construct’s golden eyes moved toward him.

“Speed without judgment caused the Southwall Collapse.”

Alistair frowned.

“I know that name.”

Mary looked at him.

“What happened?”

“An entire district was destroyed during Greykeep’s final century. The histories blamed an earthquake.”

“Inaccurate,” the construct said. “Master Builder Oren commanded civic units to expand beneath occupied homes without inspection. Foundation failure killed eight hundred twelve.”

The workers fell silent.

I looked at the stairs.

Let no wall be raised above the sleeping.

The warning was not about the constructs.

It was about the foundations beneath Greykeep.

Someone had buried the machines after people used them carelessly.

Eleanor folded her arms.

“They will move stone and perform repeated labor.”

“Yes.”

“But every site requires inspection by living builders.”

“Yes.”

“Every design requires approval.”

“Yes.”

“And they stop if the ground becomes unstable.”

“Yes.”

Eleanor smiled.

It was a disturbing expression.

“I want all of them.”

“You have two hundred sixteen,” I said.

“I want more.”

“We have not finished waking these.”

“Then wake them.”

The construct turned to me.

“Crown authority required to release civic units.”

“What happens if I release them?”

“Units enter service under Master Builder authority and approved civic plans.”

“Can they be used as soldiers?”

“No.”

Melody frowned.

“Can they throw rocks at soldiers?”

“No.”

“Can they build a wall on top of soldiers?”

“Melody,” Mary said.

“What? It is a construction question.”

The construct answered.

“Deliberate enclosure of living persons prohibited.”

“Good rule,” I said.

“Very limiting rule,” Melody replied.

“What powers them?” Aldren asked.

“Civic heart.”

“Where is that?”

The construct pointed downward.

“Below.”

“How long will it remain active?”

“Current reserve estimated at eighty-three years.”

“That is specific.”

“Estimates improve planning.”

I liked the constructs more every time one spoke.

I placed my glowing palm against the Crown carved beside the warning.

“Release the civic units under Eleanor Stonehand’s authority.”

Light filled the underground chamber.

The road shook.

Workers stepped backward as two hundred sixteen constructs climbed the buried stairs.

Not all resembled the first.

Some had four arms. Others moved on broad stone wheels. Several were little more than platforms supported by six short legs. A group of smaller constructs carried tools built directly into their bronze hands.

They emerged in perfect lines and waited beside the road.

The largest unit faced Eleanor.

“Assign work.”

She pointed toward the collapsed section.

“First, repair the road.”

“Design required.”

Eleanor looked at Aldren.

He unrolled the quarry map.

Within minutes, the two of them were arguing again.

The constructs waited.

I sat on a stone.

Mary sat beside me.

“This will help,” I said.

“Yes.”

“Two hundred sixteen magical builders.”

“Construction units.”

“That is less exciting.”

“It is more accurate.”

Around us, the gathered workers remained uncertain.

Some stared at the constructs with wonder.

Others looked worried.

A carpenter near the back spoke quietly to another man.

“What do they need us for now?”

I heard him.

So did Mary.

That was the danger.

Greykeep needed faster construction. The units could move stone, dig channels, carry timber, and work through the night.

They could also convince living workers they were no longer necessary.

I stood.

“Eleanor.”

She looked up from the road design.

“We need assignments for the new units.”

“I am doing that.”

“We also need assignments for everyone else.”

She followed my gaze toward the workers.

Understanding crossed her face.

Eleanor climbed onto a broken section of road.

“The units do not design,” she called. “They do not inspect. They do not choose materials, measure households, speak with families, or decide where a child should sleep.”

The murmuring faded.

“They will carry what we tell them to carry. They will dig where we tell them to dig. And if any of you allow a walking pile of rocks to build better than you, I will personally remove you from my work crew.”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!