A charcoal pencil traced the final closed line on a huge sheet of thick paper. Iron froze, peering intently at the complex intertwining of geometric schematics, nodes, and tiny text annotations. His graphite-stained fingers trembled slightly from fatigue, and a dull ache throbbed in his temples.
He blew the charcoal dust off the finished blueprint, critically inspected the result, and let out a sigh of relief.
"That's it, done," he said quietly into the emptiness of the workshop.
Rolling the massive sheet into a scroll, Iron reached for the wooden cane standing nearby. And headed for the exit.
Outside, morning was in full swing. Dornheim was already buzzing with its usual bustle. Iron unhurriedly hobbled over to the wooden benches in the central square. He sat down on the edge of a crudely built table, placed the scroll in front of him, and beckoned his team over.
Darwin was the first to run over from the workshops after spotting Iron. The young man was breathing heavily, wiping his soot-stained face with his sleeve on the go.
"Well, finished?" he blurted out right off the bat, staring at the paper roll.
Iron gave a short nod:
"Yeah."
Following Darwin, the rest began to gather around the tables. Marek walked up, followed by a leisurely Gaston and a few other workers.
Iron pressed his palm against the edge of the table and unrolled the scroll. The paper flattened out with a dry rustle, revealing to the onlookers a large-scale, minutely detailed schematic of a massive weapon. Darwin and Marek immediately leaned in closer, examining the blueprint. Neat rows of technical explanations surrounded the complex geometric nodes.
Furrowing his brows, Marek began reading the upper part of the specs aloud, tracing the lines with a massive finger:
"Alright... Turret design. First—the 'Ocean' base. The load-bearing frame. Supports the weight of the entire rig, doesn't deform from recoil. Second—the 'Omega' armored casing plus 'Prism'. 'Omega' protects the mechanism, dampens vibrations, and prevents the hull from cracking. 'Prism' keeps the turret from overheating and protects against fire magic."
Darwin, mesmerized by the complexity of the internal schematic, took over the reading, delving into the layout of the central node:
"Energy heart... In the center is a capsule: 'Chaos'—the power source. 'Sun'—stabilizes the temperature. 'Omega'—the containment chamber. Essentially, it's a small reactor. The barrel inside is 'Omega'. Focusing lens... At the very end of the barrel, a 'Celestial' is installed. It gathers the energy of 'Chaos' into a narrow beam or energy bolt. It's almost like your pistol, Iron, just huge!"
Gaston listened to the guys carefully, shifting his gaze from the general overview schematic to the mounting assembly.
"So, it's a manual turret," he concluded. "Basically, it all makes sense. Slap on some handles, a shield—and you can roll it out into position."
Iron chuckled and shook his head, watching Gaston's confident demeanor.
"No. It's an automated turret. Flip the blueprint over."
Darwin and Marek exchanged glances, then grabbed the edges of the thick paper and flipped the scroll. On the back of the sheet lay another extensive schematic, covered in a multitude of tiny lines of text.
Darwin immediately leaned in closer, skimming the text quickly with his eyes, and started reading aloud for the rest:
"A magical sensor made from 'Celestial' is mounted in front of the turret. It constantly tracks: movement, mana spikes, and changes in the energy background. 'Lumon' analyzes the signal and issues a command. After that: the motor turns the turret; the barrel aims; 'Chaos' charges up energy; 'Celestial' fires a pulse. The drives are standard: gears, reducers, worm gears, large toothed rings. The energy of 'Chaos' just spins the motors..."
Darwin tore his eyes away from the paper and stared at Iron.
"Wow... Everything is so well thought out!"
"What, first day knowing me?" Iron said.
Marek thoughtfully shifted his gaze from the schematic to the engineer himself.
"It's well thought out, alright," he said. "But where exactly are you planning to put this turret?"
Iron leaned forward slightly, resting his palms on the edge of the table.
"We have two options," he answered calmly. "First—bury it underground so that only the muzzle sticks out. That will provide excellent protection for the mechanism itself and an element of surprise. The second option is to mount the gun on our tower. The line of sight from up there is magnitudes better, and the firing range will increase. But the main problem is that building and securing a structure like this on the tower will be much harder than on the ground."
"So it turns out it's better on the ground?" Gaston asked.
"Partially, yes," Iron nodded. "Most likely, we'll combine them. Two turrets will stand on the tower, and we'll put the other three underground along the perimeter."
A brief silence hung over the square. Darwin shifted his gaze from the massive blueprint to Iron's face. The young man felt anxiety rising in his throat.
"Iron..." Darwin asked quietly. "But why are you building all this? Are we really in serious danger?"
"Not yet," Iron cut him off sharply. "But soon, I think we will be."
He paused briefly, and then said:
"So if you don't want to die—work!"
The men swallowed in unison, losing any remaining traces of relaxation.
"Okay, understood. We'll do it," Marek answered seriously for everyone.
The workers immediately started moving, wrapping up the discussion. Clara, who had been standing a little ways off until now, began loudly barking orders at the workers to haul the necessary ore from the storehouses and prep the smelting crucibles.
As the workers scattered to their positions, a familiar rustle sounded above the table. Elyria flew over to Iron. Noticing the blueprint left on the wooden surface, the spirit noticeably perked up and hovered right in front of the engineer's face.
"Oh, your new device!" she exclaimed, curiously examining the complex schematics.
"You didn't use to like them," Iron said.
Elyria crossed her arms over her chest and tipped her chin up with the utmost seriousness:
"I just grew up."
"Grew up? Seriously?" Iron scoffed mentally, looking at her, but didn't push the subject. Leaning on his cane, he got straight to the point:
"Elyria, where's Noah?"
"He's sleeping," she answered curtly. "And he most likely won't wake up at all today."
"Okay."
"Hey, Iron! Everything's ready! The furnaces are blazing, the molds are buried!" a shout rang out. One of the blacksmiths was actively waving his hand, calling for the engineer.
"Well then, let's go. You can help out a bit."
They headed toward the eastern edge of Dornheim. The spot for the first underground turret was a dead sector, covering the blind spot between the log cabins.
Work kicked into high gear immediately. Elyria levitated the heavy base frames, massive drive components, and armored casings, carefully lowering them into the deep, pre-dug pits.
Iron stood at the edge of the pit, carefully watching the process. He barely had to intervene. Marek and Gaston flawlessly coordinated the pouring of liquid metal into the molds. The rest of the men worked practically without words—they simply checked against the schematics on the blueprint, perfectly aligning the gears, and verifying the clearances of the reducers and worm drives.
A couple of hours later, the roar of heavy hammers and the hiss of cooling steel was interrupted by Clara's voice carrying over the site:
"Lunch!"
The tired workers, covered in soot and gray dust, flocked to the long tables. Clinking their spoons, the men ate their hot food, noisily discussing how snugly the toothed rings fit into the "Ocean" base. Darwin was going all out telling some tall tales, making Marek rumble with laughter, while Elyria circled overhead, curiously peeking at what everyone had on their plates. Iron sat a little off to the side, silently chewing his portion and watching the commotion.
Barely had Clara managed to gather the empty dishes when the workers got up from the benches one by one and returned to their workstations.
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