Building Zoids in a World of Titans

Sela led them through the gate into a courtyard laid out for function first: packed gravel drainage, covered walkways connecting the main house to a workshop, a stable, and a separate kitchen building. Stone benches ringed a central fire pit. Tool racks lined the workshop wall, every shadow board marked and shadowed.

Alex catalogued it on instinct: drainage before decoration, tool storage before comfort. Whoever ran this place built the same way he did, function first, everything else after.

A woman stepped from the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on an apron worn over a wool tunic in muted blue. She moved like someone who had never learned to rush, brown hair loose over one shoulder, eyes the same brown as Sela's but softer, slower. A smile touched her mouth before she spoke a word.

"Sit, all of you. Eat first. Whatever else needs saying can wait until you've got something in your stomachs."

Eva Vantram is Sela's younger sister, five years her junior, and the one who stayed home. She runs this household the way Sela runs the wagons, except her cargo is people, and she has never once lost one.

Sela's ledger hand twitched at her side, the only tell Alex had seen her show.

"Welcome back, Sela. Who've you brought with you?"

Sela set her ledger on the bench. "This is Alex, Rank Seven Warden, Ziya Stonehand, his engineer, and Rhian, his companion." She met Eva's eyes. "They're staying. They saved my life on the road. You'll treat them with the respect that earns."

Eva's eyebrows rose. She looked at Alex, then Rhian. "You saved her life. Well then." She wiped her hands on her apron. "Thank you, both of you. Come inside. The stew's hot, and there's bread."

Eva showed them to three rooms off the main hall, each with a narrow bed, a washbasin, and clean linens folded at the foot. Alex's had a workbench bolted to the wall, Corwin's doing. Rhian's window looked onto the courtyard; Ziya's faced the workshop. Hot water waited in copper pitchers. They washed the road dust off, changed into spare clothes Eva provided, and listened as the last footsteps and clattering pots faded somewhere in the house.

A servant knocked on each door in turn. "Dinner's ready. Mistress Eva wants everyone at the table."

Alex found Ziya already in the hallway, Rhian bouncing on her heels beside her. They followed the servant through a connecting corridor into a dining room where a long trestle table held steaming bowls of stew, rounds of dark bread, and a pitcher of something that smelled like spiced cider.

Sela sat at the head. Beside her stood a man broad through the shoulders, hands calloused and nicked from tools, sandy brown hair cut short and practical. Steady hazel eyes assessed Alex with a carpenter's measured gaze. A tool belt rode his hips over plain work clothes, worn even here.

Corwin Vantram is Eva's husband, the estate's builder and keeper of its bones. He is even-tempered and dry-humored in short bursts, a man who trusts a job done slowly over one done fast, and he says what he means without dressing it up first.

"Alex, Ziya, Rhian." Corwin's grip found Alex's hand and held, testing it the way he'd test a joint before trusting his weight on it. "Sela told us what you did on the road. She doesn't praise easy. Neither do I. But thank you. You kept my sister breathing. That's a debt this house doesn't forget."

Behind him, a girl slipped into the room, small, quick, all knees and elbows at eight years old. Dark brown hair like Eva's, hazel eyes like Corwin's. Practical play clothes stained at the knee with grass and mud.

Mika Vantram is their daughter, eight years old, quick and curious and constitutionally unable to slow down. She says whatever she's thinking the moment she thinks it, and she has never once learned to filter first.

She stopped beside her father's chair, head tilted. "You have Zoids? Sela said you have Zoids. Can I see them? Are they big? Do they roar?"

Corwin's hand settled on her shoulder, gentle but firm. "Not tonight, Mika. They're stowed. The guests need food first."

Mika huffed but subsided, climbing into the chair next to Alex's place. "I'm Mika. You're Rhian, right? You're small too. Want to see the cats after dinner? I know where all of them sleep."

Eva appeared from the kitchen, ladling stew into bowls. "Sit. Eat. Questions after."

They took their seats. Eva ladled stew: root vegetables slow-cooked until they melted, meat so tender it fell apart at the touch of a spoon, broth rich with marrow and herbs Alex couldn't name. Fresh bread rounded out the table, still warm, crust crackling under the knife, alongside sharp cheese and pickled vegetables with real bite.

Alex took his first spoonful and stopped.

The flavor hit in layers: sweet carrot, earthy turnip, the deep savory base of bone broth, a bright note of something herbal cutting through the richness. Then came texture, meat yielding, vegetables holding just enough resistance, bread soaking up broth without dissolving.

His body recognized real food before his mind caught up. He ate the second spoonful slower. The third went slower still.

Ziya ate with the same deliberate pace, eyes closed on the first bite.

Rhian attacked her bowl with both hands, spoon in one, bread in the other. She sat straight, napkin tucked at her collar, chewed with her mouth closed, folded her free hand primly in her lap between bites. Four minutes in, a question about the cats derailed her into a story about the one with the torn ear, bread forgotten in her fist, stew dripping onto the table.

Eva refilled her bowl without comment.

Mika climbed into the chair beside Rhian, legs swinging.

"Does your Zoid bite? Could I feed it something, if it wanted?"

"The Arosaurer doesn't bite anyone. It's a machine, not an animal."

"Machines can still bite, though. Corwin says the sawmill blades will bite you if you're not careful with them."

"That's different. The blades are just sharp metal moving fast. The Arosaurer's a whole different kind of thing."

"How is it different, really?"

Rhian's expression shifted from patient to engaged, and Mika's questions came without filter or hesitation.

"The Arosaurer has autocannons and claws built in, but it doesn't eat the way you're thinking. It runs on energy from its core instead."

"Where does the core even get its energy from?"

"Well, it comes from the Titan the Arosaurer was built out of, originally."

Mika turned it over for a moment.

"So does that mean the Titan's still in there, somehow, inside it?"

"In a way, yeah."

"Does it remember being a Titan, then?"

Alex's spoon stilled against the bowl's edge.

"It's more like instincts and patterns that carried over."

Mika's nose wrinkled.

"That's weird. That's weird, actually."

"Yeah. It is."

Corwin snorted into his bowl.

"She asks the questions the rest of us are all thinking anyway, and saves us the trouble of asking them ourselves."

Sela set her spoon down, the only one at the table who hadn't eaten more than a few bites. Her ledger rested against her chair leg, hand never far from the spine.

"Alex, you mentioned a letter for Commander Thane earlier, along with a workshop to set up and some Titan territory that needs scouting. Let's talk through all three."

Alex wiped his mouth.

"There are three things I need done. First, I need Foreman Vance's letter delivered to Commander Edris Thane. Second, I need a workshop set up in Foothill Row, with fabrication space, core synthesis capability, and enough room for three Zoids plus the Mule. And third, I need the Stonefang foothills and the Chasm approaches scouted for salvageable Titan components, with a core for a new Zoid build as the real priority."

Sela didn't pause to think any of it over.

"Thane's office is in the Warden Hall, on the Canopy Quarter's second tier. I'll have a runner there by morning with word of your arrival. She'll see you within the week, easily."

She ticked the points off on her fingers as she went.

"Workshop space next. The old Molten Forgers bay on Forge Street, in Foothill Row, has sat vacant since their unit transferred out to the western garrison. The Council holds the lease, but the Mining Guild manages the sublets day to day, so I'll talk to their factor, a man named Goran. He values a reliable tenant a lot more than he values guild politics. You should have keys in hand by afternoon."

She raised a second finger.

"Scouting routes, then. The Chasm approaches are restricted, so you'd need a Council permit, and a Mining Guild escort's mandatory for anything past the third marker. The foothills proper are looser, though, open to Rank 5 and above as long as you file a flight plan first. I know a Tracker named Kellen who runs the eastern ridge patrols. I'll connect you to him."

A third finger came up.

"And your Zoids stay here in my compound tonight, all three of them. The stable bay's big enough to fit them. Corwin can check the Mule's suspension while everyone sleeps."

She folded her hands on the table.

"Does any of that conflict with what you had in mind?"

None of it came with strings attached, no faction alignment required. Sela's neutrality held because he wasn't claimed by anyone yet, not the Mining Guild, not the Wardens. He was an independent variable, and independent variables were the only cargo she could carry without picking a side.

"No, it doesn't. That all works."

"Good. Then it's settled, and we'll get started on it in the morning."

Eva brought a second tureen. Apple tart followed, crust flaky, filling spiced with cinnamon and something citrus-bright. No one refused seconds.

The meal stretched into evening. A servant lit the lamps, and shadows lengthened across the courtyard.

Rhian fell asleep in her chair, head pillowed on folded arms, one hand still curled around a piece of crust. Mika curled beside her, equally unconscious.

Ziya carried Rhian to the guest room. Alex followed with the blankets.

He paused in the doorway, watching Ziya tuck the blue stone pendant inside Rhian's shirt, the matching one Rhian kept in her pocket.

"I think she's going to be fine here."

"Yeah. She is."

They walked back to their own room in silence. The bed was narrow, the mattress stuffed with wool and dried herbs, the blanket heavy and warm.

Alex lay down fully clothed, too tired to undress. The ceiling beams were dark against the lamplight. Somewhere outside, a cat yowled, and the compound settled around it.

His hand found the pendant at his chest.

We're here. We made it.

Sleep took him before the thought finished.

Advance chapters on my p@tR$0n/Najicablitz.

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