Building Zoids in a World of Titans

Morning found Alex and Ziya on the vine-bridge toward the Canopy Quarter while Rhian stayed behind, already deep in a game of hide-and-seek through the estate's upper corridors with Mika. The district stepped away below them, tiered platforms anchored to massive ironwood trunks. Walkways laid in precise geometric patterns, every joint and load-bearing brace exposed and cataloged. Function dressed in timber and steel, no decorative carvings, no colorful banners, the kind of construction Alex could respect on sight, every stress point accounted for before it ever needed to bear weight.

The Warden Hall rose at the quarter's center, a square fortress of fitted stone and reinforced beam. Its entrance bore the Warden insignia carved plain, no flourish. Inside, the reception hall ran two stories high, walls lined with mission boards and rank rosters updated daily. A central staircase split toward administrative offices above and the briefing rooms below, exactly what Alex expected from people who lived and died by whether their equipment held.

A runner in grey-green tabs met them at the Hall's entrance and led them up the central staircase without a word. The climb took two minutes. Alex adjusted his tool satchel strap. He should have worn the navy outfit Rhian gave him instead of his oil-stained jacket. The letter from Elara sat folded in his inner pocket. He hadn't decided whether to lead with it or wait for Thane to ask.

Ziya walked half a step behind, eyes tracking the mission boards, the rank rosters, the way the runner's boots never hesitated on the landings. She hadn't spoken since they left the vine-bridge. Her stylus tapped once against her thigh, the same rhythm from the shop counter, when she was calculating something she didn't want to say aloud.

The runner knocked once, opened the door, and stepped aside. Commander Edris Thane sat behind a desk of scarred ironwood, reviewing a permit file. She didn't look up immediately. She kept her iron-grey hair cropped short, grey eyes that assessed before they acknowledged. A puckered scar ran along her jaw, old and unhidden, and a steel-blue sash crossed her grey-green plated armor, worn without any ornament. She read the last line, set the file down, and finally raised her gaze.

Edris Thane is the Commander of the Ironwood Junction Warden detachment, headquartered in the Warden Hall on the Canopy Quarter's second tier. She oversees patrol assignments, permit approvals for restricted territory, and argues for the Wardens' interest on the Resource Council, deliberate, quietly commanding, with a carpenter's eye for load-bearing structures and a rule she built for herself after a specific failure. Everyone proves it in the Foothills first, no exceptions, no matter whose letter they carry.

The runner closed the door behind her. Thane's gaze settled on Alex, then Ziya, then back to Alex.

"You must be Rank Seven Warden Alex, and you'd be Engineer Ziya Stonehand. Foreman Vance's letter said you'd arrive mid-morning."

Alex inclined his head. "Commander Thane."

"Commander."

He withdrew the folded letter from his inner pocket and set it on the desk between them. Thane picked it up without haste, broke the wax seal, and read. Her eyes moved line by line. She did not skim. The only sound was the letter's paper shifting under her fingers.

Ziya stood motionless beside Alex, stylus tucked into her belt.

Thane set the letter down. The furrow between her brows eased a fraction. It was recognition, not warmth.

"Elara still argues tactics like she's building a bridge. Same as fifteen years ago."

She picked up her signet ring, pressed it into the cooling wax on the permit file beside her, and looked up.

"The letter gets you a fair hearing, not automatic trust. Everyone proves it in the Foothills first. No exceptions."

Alex nodded. "That was expected. I didn't ask for special treatment."

Her stare held his. Nothing in her expression sharpened. "Good. Then we understand each other."

She reached for a blank permit form from a drawer.

"I'll issue you a non-hostile classification permit for your machines."

Alex set his hands on the desk edge. "What does that cover?"

"It identifies your Zoids as Warden-recognized constructs, not Titan threats. Their profiles match several predator types on thermal and visual scans. Without it, any patrol that picks up your signatures can engage on sight."

She slid the form toward him.

"It also keeps you off the Council's watch list for unregistered Titan-class assets."

Alex picked up the pen. "Useful. Thank you, Commander."

He set the pen down. "What Titans operate in the zones around Ironwood?"

Thane rose from her desk and crossed to a wall-mounted map. Topographical lines in faded ink, annotated with red and blue grid markers. She didn't gesture for them to follow. She expected them to move.

Ziya stepped up beside Alex, stylus out, tapping against her palm.

Thane tapped the western forest region. "Ironwood Forest. Moss-Hide Pachyderm-Types, Rank C to B. Territorial but predictable. They feed on specific undergrowth. The Timber Guild manages the harvest rotation. Low-danger resource zone, if you respect the migration corridors."

Her finger slid south to the river delta. "Riverbend Delta. Hydra-Coil Leviathan-Types, Rank C to B, and River Lurker Allosaur-Types, Rank C. Aquatic engagement requires Whisperwind Tracker specialization. That's a different Warden specialty entirely."

She moved east to the foothills. "Stonefang Foothills. Obsidian-Wing Petras-Types, Rank C to D. Crag-Stalker Allosaur-Types, Rank C. Ashfall Condor-Types, Rank C, though you won't see many, they keep to the higher ridgelines. You'll need Rank Five and above with a filed flight plan. Many mineral veins run the fault line, which is why the Mining Guild pushes so hard on it."

Her finger stopped at the map's eastern edge, where the lines blurred into a dark blank. "The Great Chasm. Permit required. No exceptions. My signature only."

She didn't name what lived there. Warden intel was unreliable past Rank B, and she wasn't going to guess out loud in front of people she hadn't cleared yet.

Alex didn't hesitate. "Can I request the Chasm permit?"

Thane's gaze didn't waver. "No."

The word landed flat. No elaboration. No softening. She didn't look away, didn't offer the polite discomfort most people couldn't help when denying a direct request.

"A letter tells me who vouches for you. It doesn't tell me what you can do. I learned that difference once, and I don't relitigate it."

She turned back to the map. Her finger tapped the Foothills region.

"Patrols have logged more activity than normal near the Chasm approaches. Two problems, actually, and neither of them's going away on its own."

"What kind of problems?"

"First one's an Ashfall Condor matriarch. Oversized, high end of Rank B. She's pushed three smaller flocks clean out of their nesting grounds this month, and now she's taken to hitting Guild supply convoys when they pass under her ridge. Foremen started calling her the Ashwing, on account of the ash-grey plumage. Second one's a Crag-Stalker pack, Rank C, denning near the Deepiron claim, and something's wrong with them. Aggression's way past baseline. They already brought down one access tunnel."

Alex leaned toward the map. "Wrong how? Sick? Territorial?"

"Corrupted, most likely. We don't have a clean word for it yet. You'll know it when you see it, if you're careful enough to see it and live."

"And nobody's handled either of these yet?"

"You think I wouldn't have sent someone if I could spare them?" She said it without heat, just fact. "An Ashfall Condor that size, with three months of caravan experience, isn't a job for a standard patrol. And nobody's thrilled about committing a squad to blast-collapse terrain to go looking for a den that might not even be where the tunnel survey says it is."

"So you're stuck."

"So the Guilds are losing money every week both problems sit there, and I'm stretched too thin to fix it myself." She looked at him, steady. "You want past the Chasm gate, this is what buys it. Kill the Ashwing and clear or scatter the Crag-Stalker pack, and I'll sign your permit. Bring me proof, not a story."

"What counts as proof?"

"Wing sample or a talon off the Ashwing. Enough confirmed carapace markers off the pack to call the den cleared." She tapped the map again. "That's it. Bring me both, the permit's signed, and the Council can argue about the paperwork after. Doesn't change anything at that point."

An oversized Petras with a three-month head start. A den full of corrupted Crag-Stalkers in terrain nobody wanted to walk into. Alex turned the shape of it over once in his head and found nothing in it he wanted to argue with.

"Understood."

"Good." Thane set the permit form aside. "Your machines stay classified non-hostile. The Hall updates the patrol IFF database today. Any Warden who engages your signatures without visual confirmation answers to me."

Alex inclined his head. "Thank you, Commander."

"Don't thank me yet. The Ashwing's not going to care what letter you're carrying."

"Fair enough." He paused. "Where can I source Vita-Alloy and Flux Metal legally, once the workshop's up?"

"Deepiron Vein Consortium. Same claim your Crag-Stalker pack's been undermining, funnily enough. Legitimate operation, Warden-inspected, Council-licensed. Ask for a woman named Kestrel, their quartermaster. Ex-Molten Forger. She knows component grading cold, and she won't waste your time."

She didn't look up from the file in front of her.

"I can't vouch for everyone further down their supply chain, though. Some of their subcontractors move product through channels the Hall doesn't audit. Check every shipment yourself. Don't take their word for grading."

"Noted. I'll verify everything."

Thane picked up her pen again. "Elara's letter said you were stubborn."

"She's not wrong."

That almost got a smile out of her. Almost. "Then find out for yourself whether that's a compliment or a warning."

The door closed behind them. The vine-bridge swayed under their boots as they crossed back toward Foothill Row.

"An oversized Ashfall Condor matriarch and a den of corrupted Crag-Stalkers," Ziya said. "You know that's not a two-week job, right? Not if she's smart enough to keep dodging convoy schedules."

"I know."

"Could be three weeks. Could be a month, if the den's dug in deeper than the tunnel survey says."

"However long it takes, then." Alex's hand found the pendant at his collar. "Kestrel first, though. I want to know exactly how bad that tunnel collapse was before we go anywhere near that den."

"And the workshop lease still needs Goran's signature. Sela said she'd set up the meeting tomorrow."

"Tomorrow works." Alex was already turning the terrain over in his mind, ridge heights, flight ceilings, how far a Crag-Stalker den could realistically extend from a single collapsed tunnel. "The Petras-Types run hot at dawn and dusk anyway. If the corrupted ones run hotter than baseline, thermal alone might get us to that den before we're anywhere near it on foot."

Ziya glanced at him sideways. "You're already planning the hunt and we haven't even signed the lease."

"Habit."

The Mule waited in Sela's compound. The Liger Zero's amber optics tracked their approach.

"Tomorrow," Alex said. "We start tomorrow."

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

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